Let the good times roll.
How much sharing is too much sharing? Anyone got an answer? A formula? A theory? I haven't got a clue.
As an author, from what I've been told or witnessed, I'm supposed to be sharing every opinion, past time, thought, and meal I have. That's me marketing myself. That's me creating a brand.
That's me getting on my nerves. That's why me doesn't do it.
Personally, I'm not big on knowing everything about anyone. Even the writers I adore reading, I don't necessarily adore their coffee mug collection or gardening hobby.
Not that they aren't lovely people with lovely lives, but I'm cool just reading their books when they come out.
Personally, I'm not great with sharing details about myself because 1) I'm a private person and 2) my life is about as fascinating as a coffee mug collection. And I'm good with that.
"It's no bad thing celebrating a simple life."
Post WWI, Tolkien lived a normal, ordinary life off paper and an unimaginable one on it. We could have been mates.
I'm saying all this as a heads-up. I'm gearing up to launch my second book,
Just Another Sidekick
(available August 2017), which is the next installment to
Not Another Superhero
. This means I'll be pressured - and will succumb to that pressure - to post aspects of my simple life you are not obligated to find interesting.
But doing it is a necessary evil.
However, I do have some boundaries. I won't take selfies with my meal. I won't take a picture of my feet on the beach. And I won't live tweet any sporting events. Everything else in the pursuit of marketing my book is fair game. That includes pictures of my coffee mug collection, which I don't have, and information about gardening, which I don't do.
You've been forwarned.