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Chasing Followers, Catching Rage

Authors need platforms.

They didn’t always. Michael Crichton didn’t have a website with a newsletter link when he released Jurassic Park more than three decades ago. Yes, he was well known for The Andromeda Strain, among other works. But he wasn’t tweeting, posting on Facebook and doing a Book-Tok dance.

Do people dance on Book-Tok? I honestly don’t know.

Anyway, to appeal to agents and publishers, even though you technically don’t need one, it makes sense to have one. I’m updating my website this year (much needed after a decade). And am trying to get followers. I’m terrible at it. And, frankly, I don’t want to, but not for a reason you’re thinking.

I’d love to have thousands of followers, and you must work to get them. That’s fine.

But with Twitter/X especially, you invariably get bombarded with the day’s events and what people think about them. Again, fine.

Once you start reading the tweets, you’re bound to get angry or annoyed because almost everyone on Twitter seems angry and annoyed. Take any political issue–Greenland, Minnesota immigration, the Buffalo Bills collapsing again (OK, that’s not political, but it’s up for discussion–and you will get heated, f-bomb-laced screeds on both sides of the issue, and it’s easy to get sucked in.

I rarely comment on anything besides joking to point out absurdity, or chiming in on something that’s universally accepted, like praying for Rob Reiner and his wife after their son murdered them. Yes, there was one lunatic who felt compelled to behave indecently, but he’s not worth mentioning.

You lose time (when you should be writing) and your mental health when you descend into that hole. So, loath as I am to do, I will venture on Twitter to post author-related things (not incessant sales pitches, which are tedious). But, like a bank robbery, I want to be in and out as quickly as possible. And if someone likes whatever I post or wants to engage in a civilized back-and-forth, great!

It is possible to ignore the noise. It is possible to disconnect (putting the phone away)! Hard as it is to do, you will feel better. Maybe that’s the key to true happiness. Powering down.

And reading a book.

They killed Gramma! (The tortoise)

Facebook feeds offer up some of the most random tidbits. For instance, this morning it notified me that Gramma, the 141-year-old Galapagos Tortoise, died in San Diego. Turns out it happened in November. What struck me was one of the lines regarding her demise: “Her loss has been felt around the world.”

Hold your horses. Kennedy’s assassination was felt around the world. More recently, putting politics aside, Charlie Kirk’s murder was felt across the globe. When Princess Di was killed in that car crash? Absolutely felt around the planet.

Do you remember where you were when you learned Gramma the Tortoise died? Yeah, right here, right now, reading this. So, I did some investigating and here’s what I learned.

Gramma’s exact date of birth is unknown, but “experts” estimated her age at roughly 140 years old, meaning she was born around 1885. Do you know who the US president was in 1885? Neither do I, let me Google it. OK, Grover Cleveland. The San Diego Zoo, where she lived since 1928, stated she lived through 20 US presidents! She lived through two World Wars. A bunch of pandemics. Disco. Pretty much everything good and bad in modern US history.

Yeah, but Gramma doesn’t know any of this. She’s a tortoise. Last I checked, they don’t think about world affairs or domestic politics. They think about “where the hell is my fruit bowl?” and “I haven’t left my enclosure in 75 years.”

Here’s how ABC News reported on her: “Throughout her time in San Diego, Gramma, a ‘quiet and constant presence,’ transformed from a black-and-white photograph to an ‘ever-endearing social media star,’ with countless videos shared of the reptile crunching on her favorite snacks, the zoo said.”

That’s sobering. A dead tortoise has more followers on Twitter than I do.

I’d like to wrap up this story as a bittersweet yet feel-good one. But I can’t because of what the Los Angeles Times reported: Gramma “was euthanized after suffering from increasing bone deterioration because of her advanced age.”

They murdered Gramma! Who the hell made the San Diego Zoo god? Aren’t you supposed to respect your elders? And not put them down because you think it’s time for them to die? Apparently, and unsurprisingly, not in California. “Hey, Gramma, you’re moving slower than normal. Let’s get that lethal drug cocktail ready!”

Gramma had absolutely no say in the matter. A bunch of goons probably lifted her up, and Gramma’s thinking, “Yay, they’re taking me inside! That’s where they keep the cactus fruit that I enjoy nibbling on. Hey, wait a second, why does everybody look so glum? And I don’t see any cactus fruit, just a bunch of bottles with skulls and crossbones on them! And a guy flicking his finger against a syringe! What the hell is this?”

Gramma’s dead. Probably against her will, but at least they didn’t strap her into a chair and electrocute her. May her memory be a blessing. And if you’re elderly and live in the San Diego Zoo, try not to stumble.