Nov 25, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Social Media Saturday
So, here’s the thing. Yah, I know. Some of you hate that phrase. But there it is anyway. What? I’m gonna pretend it doesn’t exist? Fuggedaboutit.
I’ll keep this as short and sweet as one teaspoon of sugar in your coffee. [Unless that coffee mug’s a 24 oz. tumbler. Then we’re gonna be here a while.]
So, you’re on social media. Because you have to be, not because you want to be. And you hate it. I mean, You. HATE. it. Am I right? Yup. Know how I know? ‘Cause y’all tell me so. Regularly.
Why do some of you hate it? Because y’all think you don’t have anything to say. Or sure, you can chat up the store clerk with digressions on the value of laundry detergent fragrances, or your family at the dinner table when it comes to tonight’s hockey game or next week’s NCIS episode. But then you get in front of your Twitter feed.
And you stare. I mean, you just stare.
And that blinky spinny icon thingy on whichever media site you’re looking at. It taunts you.
It says, “You’ll never be as quippy as the next guy. Never!” And it gives off a computerized maniacal laugh. Muahahahahah . . . Okay. Too far? Yah. Maybe. Let’s walk it back a few steps.
Anyway. So how is it you have something to say to friends and your family and your coworkers, but y’all don’t know what to say to your Swarm?
Two words: Performance Anxiety.
Y’all get stressed.
*Insert Gibbs slap here!*
Stop it. Stop being stressed. Stop thinking you have nothing to say.
Obviously, you have a lot to say. And there’s an audience. They’re already ready for you. Honest!
All you have to do, is not change your voice.
Did ya hear me on that? It just means write the way you talk. Super simple. Not sure you can? Record yourself. Listen to how you hold the coffee audience captive. Pay attention to those “hello” moments at the gas station. And when you’re ready to share something of yourself in the world, pick a person to address. Direct your posts to one or two people, not the world at large.
It can be someone specific: Your 23-year-old daughter. Or the Postal Clerk you chat with once a week. Or it can be a general idea of someone: A 30-ish tall, dark and handsome guy named Rain. Or some insecure Italian redhead named Josie. The point is, you know how to reach these people. You already speak their language. So speak it into your keyboard.
Yah, it takes some practice. And here and there you need to pick a different audience. Maybe you send your tweets to Paige and your Facebook posts to SuperGirl. LinkedIn is for those business cohorts who said you wouldn’t amount to much [insert snickering laugh here]. But once you know who your audience is, you’ll recognize your voice. And you’ll be able to say everything you need to say.
Promise.
TWEET THIS: Social Media Saturday: That Time You Thought You Had Nothing to Say @MollyJoRealy #socialmedia
And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!
May 15, 2013 |
Yesterday I was on the phone with my web designer [read: know-it-all brother who does this for a living and is graciously helping out his sister who knows nothing about behind-the-scenes maintenance].
It was the first time someone explained SEO to me in terms I could understand. My blog just isn’t getting the popularity I need it to. Granted, my efforts have been more toward my bigger writing projects like The Unemployment Cookbook and Amara’s Light. So when I haven’t understood SEO or how to promote the Blog in a better fashion, I’ve been okay with that, knowing someday it would come. The traffic. He will build it, and they will come.
Let the construction begin…
He mentioned something that stuck. Like a popcorn kernel between the teeth. Like packing tape to a cardboard box. Like dried-on food on a day old plate. Yeah. It was that kind of stuck in my brain.
I’ve heard it before. And now my Google Guru has said it: If you want more traffic, you have to direct them.
Right now, my Blog voice is shouting directions every which way. I’m less flight director and more flag performer. I write about everything. Everything. Recipes. Creative writings. Poetry. Snippets of upcoming projects. Photos of life with the Frog. My housing project ideas. Crafts. Frustrations.
Nippers says “hi”.
I’m just a little bit all-over-the-place disorganized.
And I’ve been told to pick a direction.
And I can’t.
My Blog is my Blog. It’s my Life. It’s not a lifestyle blog. I don’t focus on one aspect. It’s me. It’s my online sharing of things I think you’ll enjoy.
Am I wrong?
If I choose to direct the Blog toward only Biblical prose, what happens to my food posts?
If I decide to focus on creative writings, how I incorporate my homey moments?
If I land in the kitchen, is there a place for travel?
My Blog is more than my Blog. It’s me.
And just as you don’t limit yourself to reading only Cookbooks or only news or only how-to articles, I can’t limit myself, either.
I am incredibly complicated, intricate and multi-faceted; surrounded at times by mystery, sometimes in the dark, sometimes brought to light. Much like a Diamond.
Yes. That’s it. We’re all diamonds. Some are rougher than others. But we’re all diamonds. We all have much to share.
We’re All Diamonds
My Blog is an outward indication of the parts of me I choose to share. any given day I can turn and reflect on a different aspect, thought or idea. Any post can be centrally focused or have a plethora of cutting edges shining through.
Will I lose ratings for this? Possibly.
Will I find my way through the Blogosphere? Probably.
There are many blogs that draw attention to Cooking. Books. Reviews. Writing. DIY Home Crafts.
But there’s only one Real Mojo. With many sides.
Shouldn’t there be only one Blog with many stories?
This Blog post is appropriately linked up with Shell’s Things I Can’t Say weekly linky-list. Her topic this week? “Your Blogging Voice”.
This is my voice. At times scratchy, melodic, stern, wishful, and strong. This is my voice.
I don’t think I could change it if I tried.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 14, 2012 |
In the aftermath of the incident from yesterday’s post, I’ve had time to reflect on what happened. I received a lot of encouraging comments and support. This post is a collage of my later thoughts, reactions, and observances.
- Don’t be afraid of the Ugly Words. It’s okay to say, out loud, “I’m being stalked.” “Take me seriously.” and “This is not good.” Even when it feels foolish. Even when a part of you wants to think this is just a mistake, a misunderstanding. It’s okay, and even right, to say the Ugly Words out loud.
- Take it for what it is. Don’t try to manipulate the situation into a drama, but don’t downplay it into a nothing. I didn’t want to appear foolish, and so this “incident” went on far too long, and I felt far too alone. I should have been less concerned with possibly being wrong and more concerned with being protected.
- Just because nothing happened, doesn’t mean nothing happened. He kept his distance. he never approached me. He never spoke to me. But he still intentionally scared me. Intimidated me. Followed me. He. Stalked. Me.
- It’s okay to still be scared, even after the fact. I tried not to be nervous today, but I had more errands to run. And I found myself sometimes hyper-vigilant. In traffic. In crowds. In parking lots. Not always. But more than usual.
- I’m much more aware how much of ourselves we give to strangers. At one location, they asked for my phone number to look up my account. In front of five strangers, I had to audibly confirm private information. With all the technology available, they should mandate keypad entries to prevent someone else from hearing my secrets!
- Everyone has told me I should have told the manager or called the police. Let’s face it: no one wants to be considered a nuisance. And without proof, the most anyone could do is write it down for later. I already felt helpless. I didn’t want an authority figure to confirm that fact.
- I know the difference between jerks, creeps, and predators. I don’t like admitting it, but the truth is, he was a predator and I was in danger. He had a look that said he owned me. He never questioned it. I was his. And the only time he looked confused was when I glared back to put him off.
- I have a right to expect more from society than my pointing fingers and looking like a fool. But society doesn’t easily throw open its arms and say “I’ll protect you.” More often, society says, “It’s not a big deal”, “Give me hard facts”, or “There’s nothing we can do.” Society made it easier for him to intimidate me, than for me to ask for help. And I find that unacceptable.
- Television is my friend. At the very moment I realized this guy was actually stalking me ~ not just looking at me, not just following me, but actively, intentionally, maliciously pursuing me ~ I recalled stories from my favorite crime dramas. I knew what to do: Be noticed. Be strong. Be prepared to fight.
- I texted Dot a few times. More than usual for that time of day. I sent her photos of the groceries in my cart. Partly because I wanted her to see what goodies would be waiting for her at home. Partly because it gave me a grounded feeling to be in contact with someone outside the situation, to pretend that it was just a normal day at the grocery store. But mostly because I wanted to leave a digital trail of where I was. I wanted to be like Hansel and Gretl finding their way back out of the forest.
- Thanks to television, I also knew what not to do: Don’t talk to him. Don’t be distracted. Don’t encourage him. But don’t back down.
- It’s okay if I lose sleep over this for a few nights. I didn’t wake up in cold sweats last night. I’m not suddenly afraid of the dark. I didn’t have nightmares. But I did have trouble falling asleep. The reality of what happened mixed with the possibility of what could have happened, and those thoughts kept turning over in my head.
- “Sunlight” no longer equals “Safe”. Even in a crowded, sunlit store and parking lot, even with smiling strangers around, I
could have beenwas in danger.
- I’m smart. I’m strong. I’m powerful. And I can fight. I knew enough of what to do to be confident. I know that was a big help in backing him down. I wonder how much braver he would have been, if I had been less so. What would have happened if I’d been more demure and timid?
- I’m thankful for my voice. I’m thankful for my inner voice giving me peace and courage in the moment. I’m thankful for my writing voice to share my story after the fact. I’m thankful for my physical voice, and I’m especially thankful I didn’t have to use it.
- I’ll be okay. Because I was okay. Because ultimately, while this incident was, and still is, very scary, I’m okay. But now I can’t stop thinking about the many women who won’t be. Whether at the hands of this man or someone else, women are in danger. And that makes me sad. And that makes me angry. And that makes me want to do something about it. I just wish I knew what.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
