In an effort to hock my writing to as many people as possible, I decided to order up some business cards. The plan is to place them around discreetly and unnoticed. I don’t want to be “that” person that hands you their card in yoga class or palms it to you after you wait on me and offer me my latte. Instead, my hope is to plaster them around like not overly secret secrets and intrigue unsuspecting citizens into following this blog. Then, they will randomly get super excited about me and click on my bibliography page where all of my previous fiction publications will be listed. (Did you just check for it? That’s still forthcoming.) THEN, boom, a book deal and a ready made audience of eager readers all basking in my joy over said book deal.
That’s the easy part. The question is: should I really be calling them business cards? I worried about this even while ordering them. Would the card purveyors be looking judgmentally at my card info, asking themselves about the ethics of printing “business’ cards for a random woman without the requisite business supplies of receipt paper, product scanners and generally elaborate desk contents? You see? That is what I think business people do–use those items in mysterious ways to accomplish baffling goals.
Mostly, I want people to be curious about my work, much of which is available for free. I want my Sarah Sorensen Google to beat out the other Sarah Sorensens who also show up when Googled. Okay, that part is petty. But the main thing is to talk about writing and what it looks like to be a writer trying to build books and publish.
So maybe calling them business cards is where we go wrong, at least in my case. Maybe I just want a pile of “chatter” cards that mean that I can talk and talk without having to say one word aloud. That is the conundrum of being an introvert, longing to say lots of things, but only to certain people, while freezing into silence in front of most. I like that blogging means talking to anybody or everybody, but in weirdly structured and controlled ways where I am unlikely to get confused or distracted.
I find that while having impromptu conversations with people that I don’t necessarily feel comfortable with, or even sometimes with people that I do, I manage to mentally wander off. Let’s say it is you that I am talking to face to face. Sometimes, I am mentally narrating you. (Rude, I know. Sorry.) Sometimes, I am wondering why you are telling me what you are telling me, unless entirely pertinent to our current activity. Thus, if I am waiting on you and you ask for a cash total, I am totally comprehending why. However, if you can veer from the script and you splash out with a comment about your labradoodle, I wonder what happened. How is said doodle of immediate importance? Whoopee, is said doodle here? Wait, did you buy the doodle or adopt him? I need to know because rescue animals are important; and I will base my level of liking you on my notion that your dog had better damn well been rescued from villains with angry faces and evil laughter. Crap, I just missed what color this dog is and now I realize that picturing him in apricot may be leading me down a false path. Then, I fall into complete chaos. I have no clue what you have been saying and I am just nodding vaguely.
Then there is the scenario where you just tell me something really boring. I am gone and planning out my next story in my mind. It is potentially about labradoodles. That is why I am smiling at you like a wax figure in a really bad museum.
When you leave me written comments, my mind focuses in and I eliminate the other stimuli. Or, you know, I reread it until I grasp what is happening. Either way.
Wait, I think this was about business cards. Huh. Well, that’s cool. Um, they are on their way. So…guess we’re all set here. Yup.