To be fair to myself, I am reading and editing my manuscript as often as I can squeeze it in. I am awfully busy right now establishing my presence on Facebook and. repairing my relationships with my favorite online merchants: Amazon; Zappos (recently sucked up by Amazon); CraigsList; eBay. I often don’t purchase anything but am capable of spending a day just “window shopping.” For those of you who might be interested: eBay has a fine line and a large supply of both Brooks Brothers and Tommy Bahama men’s shirts. Very reasonably priced.
Oh, and there’s this blog, certainly a worthwhile endeavor that keeps me writing, but clearly not readying a manuscript for a May 1 deadline. Writing about deadlines is so much more rewarding than actually meeting deadlines.
But to belabor the point, I have not been idle in my romp through my to-do list and I am reasonably certain I will make that deadline. What I am not doing is allowing myself any margin of error. Yesterday, I re-read. the “Tips for Editing Your Manuscript” from the contest featured in last week’s blog. After a small fit of indignation, I dutifully began working my way through the list.
The main offender, of course, is Facebook, which provides a kind of one-stop shopping for all of my sins. I have gotten so lazy that I am doing one of those things I swore never to do. I am spending most of my time scrolling through and “sharing” other people’s posts.
Occasionally, I make a kamikaze run on a political thread and succeed in offending nearly every one. Take the recent brouhaha about Joe Biden.
I am especially enjoying, this time around on FB, the humor that has been inspired by items like “Windmills cause cancer” or “We don’t want wind power. If the wind stops blowing, you won’t be able to watch television” or the incredible blooper on Fox News about the three Mexican countries.
Last week I made the terrible mistake of combining my shopping with my tiny FB addiction, and I clicked on one of the ads for clothing. I looked at a pair of linen pants and by the time I returned to my FB feed (probably ten minutes) it was packed with ads from every company on the planetthat makes linen pants.
One day I scrolled down further in my feed than ever before, into a dark and mysterious land where I was puzzled and unnerved to find that I did not know one person whose posts I was reading. Not one. Total strangers. Names not even familiar.
I am sure there is an algorithm that explains all those unknown people. I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
The Internet is calling, but I’m thinking I might try to change the display on my first ever cell phone, the one I can’t quite figure out how to answer but have encased in a pink holder (or whatever it’s called).
As a last resort, there’s always that manuscript.