I’ve been reading up on the subject to see what those in the know have to say, and despite digesting lots of what is likely very sensible advice on what someone in my position ‘should’ be doing, I still feel uncomfortable about it. All the Tweeting and Facebooking and Blogging etc it seems you are expected, no required to do. . . It doesn’t sit right.
Initially I thought that this was just something I needed to get over. That what I was encountering was a constitutional discomfort with pushing my own work, the common British ‘failing’ of not liking to ‘blow my own trumpet’ as my parents would have called it. Avoiding self aggrandisement because it is somehow rather vulgar. . . But on further reflection I don’t think that is the case. I don’t think it is entirely true to say that it is just the process of trying to overcome my natural reticence that makes me uncomfortable, I’m finding that what bugs me is the expectation that I should maintain a constant commercial agenda. That, behind any and every online interaction I have there should be the hidden guiding hand of a Social Media Strategy aimed at driving ‘traffic’ to my shop. I really fucking hate that. It means that every blog post, or tweet or whatever is basically dishonest. You are only being entertaining or interesting because if you aren’t, you won’t get people following you and if people aren’t following you they aren’t going to see your promo posts that you fit in between the fun stuff. And if they don’t see your promo posts then they aren’t going to follow them to your shop and if they don’t do that you won’t get any sales. . . ka ching. . .
I suppose the answer is to be totally upfront about it. Every promo post should be flagged as such, and the fun (?) stuff should be done for the love of it, or for the love of the sound of your own voice 😉
Oh well, I like the sound of my own voice, and I like my work, whatever anyone else thinks, so I shall continue to blog about it and if people are bored by that they’ll leave me to witter on in thoroughly deserved obscurity. . . .