Why I Don’t Auto Follow on Twitter

Talis, the elf, is bored with your Tweets

Alternate title, “Stop Selling Me Stuff!”

I confess, a big part of Twitter’s allure is following, not being followed.  See “being followed” implies a kind of “leading,” and as any employer that I’ve ever worked for will attest, I’m no leader.  I’m also not a follower. (The specific language on my yearly evaluations was, “Is not a team player.”)  I don’t follow,  per say, but rather lurk in the periphery. If you’re interesting, I stick around, but only if you’re interesting.

My time spent on Twitter or any particular website is about an hour, tops (See attention span, below). I drop in, look for funny, rude, or informative stuff and then move on. Because it’s all about me. Me. Me. Me. Entertain me.

One reason I don’t auto follow is because I have the attention span of a hamster on crack.  I open my email, see “HappyFeet is following you on Twitter,” and think, “I should check them out.”  Then I spot something shinier and away I go.

If my wee attention spans holds out long enough to click the profile link, I’m looking for a couple of things.  First, that the person not be a total loon (e.g., rightwing loon).  Next, that they aren’t selling something.  “Something” may be timeshares, shoes, amazing weight loss programs or …. wait for it, books. Yes, fellow authors, I admit it. I won’t follow if the bulk of your tweets are promoting your books, your publisher, or your friend’s books.

Look. I get it.  In this market, we’re supposed to promote like crazy. I admire your willingness to get out there and sell yourself.  I admire your willingness to help your friends.  I’m sure you’ve sold way more books than me as a result.  *Cough.*  See?  This is me choking in your dust.

But it’s still boring. B.O.R.I.N.G. Like watching paint dry or snakes fuck.

Turn on the TV and there are adverts. Ditto the radio (why I switched to satellite radio).  My email is full of spam and sad little stories from every charity or political action group I’ve ever made the mistake of interacting with.  There are ads on my favorite websites and billboards by the side of the road.

I’d rather read about the funny things your kids say. Hell, even tweets about shoe shopping are more entertaining. (The topic, normally, is a cure for insomnia. Shoes, in my world, are broken into three classes: Vans, Chucks and hiking boots.)  As a rule, I’m way more likely to buy a book from the “Funny lady with the crazy kids” than “She who endlessly flogs her books.”  If you can’t think of anything to blog/Facebook/Tweet about besides your books, I’m inclined to think you’re a boring person who writes equally boring books.

Even if I don’t read your genre, I’m more likely to retweet your promos if I feel like I know you.  No, you don’t have to expose every personal aspect of your life. (Seriously, there is such a thing as too much information).  But it’s social media.  At least make a pretense of being … I don’t know … “social?”

(Edited to sort out some serious logical and clarity issues.  My brain is on wrong today.)