Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

the adventures of twitter girl

“Have you ever felt as if you were saving the world, one reader at a time?”

I was asked that question this evening by a fellow writer, and after taking just a minute to think about it…yes, I think might feel that way.

Sort of.

In the real world (a place I am frequently forced to visit) I do get requests for insight and advice with some regularity.  Usually things like…”how do you spell (insert word here)” or “should pick the red or the pink polish for my toes?” And I rise to the occasion like the superhero I am… “Go for the pink, it’s more flattering to your skin,” and “the S is silent in Illinois.”

If you’ve been following my blog, you know I have recently become addicted to Twitter.  I have met several very nice, very eloquent writers there.  It really is like a trendy club where the cool kids get to hang out.  I might not be a cool kid yet, but I have definitely made the guest list for some pretty happening parties.  I even met a writer who has nicknamed me The Great Gazoo, after Fred Flintstone’s snarky Martian sidekick.  She said when she was stuck for ideas or ready to give up for the day, I was there with just the right encouragement, whether day or night…like Gazoo.  I like the comparison.  It makes me feel like a Martian superhero.  

As if I didn't already have delusions of grandeur, today I started a discussion group on the website for writers to share pages and critique each other.  The response has been amazing.  I now have my very own critique, or “critty” group.  I’m part of a club.  Just a bunch of cool kids hanging out to motivate and propel each other to greatness!  Yeah…superhero stuff right here.

So I tell my family how great I am, and how I need to go dig out that baby blanket the kids used to use as a cape and they just stare at me…mouths open like big fish…crickets chirping in the background, and ask me, “did you remember to wash my shirt?” 

I didn’t.

My cape is confiscated.  The big blue painter’s tape "T" is pulled from my shirt and I’m sent to the laundry room…back to the real world. 

It would seem they didn’t get the memo from Twitter.

Until the next time…I’ll be pulling out my cape once they’re all asleep!

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