A Gram of Insta, Please

Feels like I’ve spent my whole life avoiding social “connectivity” even if it’s only been a little over 20 years since my first fling with “Welcome to Compuserve!” where I got addicted to those early chat rooms, and email opened up a rather fun (and efficient) means of communication. Ah, the 20th Century concerns that many of my 20th Century cronies disdained. I was finally part of the Cyber Age, like it or not. I still remember the first email breakup. It wasn’t traumatic. It was just… kinda… interesting. I accepted it; she wouldn’t.

I’ve gone into most social media kicking and screaming. But, as a writer, if ya wanna swim (and not worry about the Jaws of self-doubt), ya figure out what ya wanna do and how ya wants ta do it; then ya consult with some 12-year olds and do what they say and then sign yer ass up and gitcherself crackin’ on whatcha wanna do. Simple. Those 12-yos will respect and support you.

After Twitter, Soundcloud and YouTube, I’m now on Instagram. Conventional wisdom states that an author needs to establish his “brand” on all the SM sites. Nope. I know what I’m trying to do and I know not to fight on E=00_igtoo many fronts at once. The WWII Luftwaffe had great aircraft and pilots but their high command wouldn’t let ’em use those Me262s the way they were meant to be used. The Wehrmacht also had a horrible grasp on how to handle their V-2 program. Thank you, Mr. Von Braun, for defecting to the proper enemy.

I still refuse to do Facebook.

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