I rarely tweet on Twitter. I tweet my blog updates, but that's it. I’m learning however, that as a writer - about to launch a book - I really ought to tweet to my many, many followers.
Currently, I don’t have oodles of followers though, and every time I consider tweeting, I also consider the fact that I don’t have anything of any great importance to say. I am, after all, the rather quiet one, at social gatherings. Other than comical observations and the random quip, I usually don’t offer too much as far as conversation goes. Unless, that is, someone decides to speak to me; the overtly quiet person standing off to the side. This, seldom happens. And I don’t blame them. Who wants to amble over to someone who isn’t the life of the party. Those quietly standing in the shadows aren’t the one’s laughing and making others laugh. And for good reason - it would be a very odd thing to be standing alone at a party laughing.
As a middle aged woman, it also does not bode well to venture into bars alone. Both women and men take a quick, judgmental glance in our direction and come to two (very wrong), conclusions: that we are hoping to pick up a partner for the night or that we are social misfits with a friend total of zip. So, if you are like me, and you do decide to saddle up to the bar for a nightcap before heading to your hotel room for the night, be prepared. The men that saunter up and offer conversation, are doing so with the clear intent of sex. And the group of giggling girls glancing at you as you walk in, are sizing you up, convinced that you working.
One time, while sitting at the bar enjoying my glass of Patron Silver and orange juice, a guy plunked down next to me and offered some light conversation. I politely responded. In the course of his dialogue, in which he provided (not that I wanted to hear them), his observations of me, he said, “You remind me of that pretty lady in that movie...the way you are sitting so perfect and...oh, I know the one! You remind me of Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate. She was hot too.”
For reasons I’m sure many of my fellow middle aged women will understand - I didn’t share his excitement, nor did I feel his compliment was something to write home about. Instead, I knew it meant I appeared much older than the rest and that I appeared very strong, yet very alone. And that for all intents and purposes, I also gave him (and God only knows who else), the misguided impression that I was a cougar. I respect cougars, I just don't happen to currently be one. Well, as you can imagine, the conversation dwindled thereafter.
Although I am none of those things, I do wear my middle age with a great deal of honest humility. Some might even say I am often quite self deprecating; but only in the humorous way that it’s intended. A way that hopefully reaches out with a wide sweeping arm and pulls together other middled aged women. Our boats may appear different, but they are all boats, and we are all in them together.
As a writer, I want people to ready my words. I can’t say I know why I want this, but there is no doubt that I do. With that in mind, I will try to tweet. I will try to continue to draw your interest and maybe in the process you will feel compelled to tell others to read my blogs, buy my books and so forth. You will only read the truth from me; the truth that rests in my heart and mind. I am told that to sell my books, I need to first, sell myself. Gulp. I hope people will find me worthy of their time, energy and money. And I hope - I never let you down.
Sane
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