In Which I Prove Myself a Luddite

Twitter. Sigh.

I know I am supposed to be hip and down with it and all that but I'm sorry, I just .................. don't like Twitter.

Maybe it's because the "tweets" sort of resemble the lists of ingredients on the back of a TV Dinner: a few things you recognize interspersed with unintelligible whatchamacalits and hashmarks and whatnot.

Maybe it's because they're called "tweets". (This just sort of makes my skin crawl for some reason.)

Maybe because it seems that anything worth saying (Short of communications during a revolution) should be more than 140 characters long.

Maybe because Twitter just reminds me of Sarah Palin, the Palinization of our political discourse or something fancy thing like that (It would take more than 140 characters to explain, people....)

Likely, though, it's all because I'm old, or getting old. Hell, I don't text either. And my cell phone doesn't even have letters on it!

Credit

I'm sorry Twitter. I have tried to like you. Really I have. Came across this nifty list of the Best Twittering Agents and checked it out and everything. (Those of you hipper than I am should check this list out immediately.)

You and me, little bird, were just not meant to be....

Conference Call

Next Saturday, I'll be attending the WriteAngles Conference at Mount Holyoke College.

Though I found out about the conference and registered last minute, I'm pretty excited about it. Andre Dubus III is one of the keynote speakers and some terrific agents will be there as well. I've submitted my first page to an agent panel (sort of like a kinder gentler version of Grub Street's Agent Idol") so I'm also experiencing a slight anticipatory nervousness. How else could it be, really?

I'm not much of a a Writer's Conference veteran yet, but I have been to Grub Street's Muse and the Marketplace and long ago attended the Stonecoast Writer's Conference, which is much more workshop focused.

I have to say there is nothing finer than networking with a bunch of writers! We tend to be quirky, kind people, starving to talk of our secret literary passion. Many people hope to write a book someday, but the writers at conferences have taken more than a few steps in that direction and can identify with the immense, giddy joy (and also the profound misery) of the enterprise. Also, I don't really get out much.

How do you feel about conferences?

Anyone else planning to attend WriteAngles?