“Breezy…a perfect teaser for summer fun to come.”
There’s this song by Sara Melson (I can’t remember how I discovered it or her…Entertainment Weekly? iTunes? KCRW? I probably heard it in an episode of Gossip Girl or The Hills, embarrassingly enough) that I can’t get out my head. It’s called: “Feel It Coming.”
Now, before you let your mind go there, let me explain why I bring it up. It’s not my favorite new tune but it does capture what I’ve been feeling lately, which is namely, anticipation.
Here’s a line from the chorus: “Something better’s coming…I feel it coming” and then she sings that last bit a bunch of times. (Since I respect her copyright, I can’t quote more than two lines, so click here to read the full lyrics.) Granted, in print, the lyric ain’t all that but when she sings it, I know I can feel it coming.
But what’s the “it”? Could be that since spring is blooming like crazy in NYC this week that it’s the summer that’s “coming.” And that’s part of it for sure: I love summer. I live for warm weather and sunshine. My mood is generally better and I have more energy. Plus, the clothes are cuter. (The guys I know like the summer for the same reason: once it’s above 65, women in the city start walking around practically naked. What’s not to like–if you’re a guy, I mean.)
But this spring is decidedly different. This spring I open a magazine and there’s my name and more importantly, my book, right there on the page. This spring a messenger delivers a package and inside is a hot-off-the-press copy of said book. This spring I have not only Facebook friends but also a Facebook Fan page for my book. This spring I will walk into a bookstore and there it will be (hopefully on a “Great Beach Reads” table by the front door and not shoved in the “R’s” on the 5th floor). This spring I will somehow get up in front of friends, family and strangers and read from my book–the same one that until only recently was several different Word files on my computer under “Hamptons Novel.”
Well, Sara, you got me. I feel it coming soon, too–whatever “it” turns out to be. And you know what? I’m ready.
“Breezy…think The Real World, only juicier.”
Who knew that one needed to be so thoroughly tech-savvy to be a novelist?
I’m not just talking about knowing how to create chapter headers in Word (I don’t but I fake it well enough). Nowadays, you have to know how to blog-vlog-flickr-twitter-facebook-wordpress-upload-youtube-blip.tv in order to be a novelist, that is, if you have any hopes of being a successful novelist. It helps if you have nice friends who know how to do all this stuff (I have a Jeff, a Mary and an Anthony) but there are only so many times you can sweetly plead for their help and certainly a limit on the number the exclamation points you can put after “Thank you!!!!!!” (Six seems reasonable; seven is just desperate.)
I’ve been uploading my book-related videos all afternoon to the various viral distribution sites (if you’re on sherririfkin.com you can just tab over to the Videos page to see the same clips) and boy is my laptop tired! Believe me, as a former TV marketing person, I am very grateful to be publishing my novel at a time when all of these free marketing tools are available–especially since I don’t have the same (read: any) budgets to spend on paid marketing placements like I did when I was employed by someone else. Short of walking around Union Square with a LoveHampton sandwich board strapped over my shoulders, sitting in front of my laptop waiting patiently for my uploads to be complete seems like a far lesser evil. But I am fairly certain that once I’ve mastered the twitter-blip and the blog-vlog, there will be yet another technology for me to beg a nice, tech-savvy friend to teach me how to do. (Note: In addition to multiple exclamation points, treating your helpers to a nice meal or two goes a long way to show them your appreciation.)
Now that I’m pretty much all uploaded, at least for now, I just hope the other kids on YouTube play nicely with LoveHampton21. I certainly don’t want to be forced to send my 181 Facebook friends after them.