Mind over matter . . . does it matter?

In my last blog I outlined one of my outside the box schemes to promote my book. It involved going back to my old alma mater. The plan essentially boiled down to finding a student who was a whiz at social media. As a member of the Twitter universe, I now follow and am followed by over 200 twitterers (or is it tweeters? Possibly twits? Or maybe nitwits). I’ve probably read a dozen tweets and sent out about twenty; I doubt I have sold one book through my tweets.

Okay, so I’m back on campus. Then what? I start walking around campus and look for the nerdiest kid?

What do I say?

“Hey there young man/woman. Do you like to do the tweet? Would you mind tweeting for me? If you’re good, I’ll even pay you.”

In that scenario, I can see myself being arrested for solicitation.

Maybe I should just walk up to the prettiest girl I can find and offer to buy her a cup of coffee, or lunch, if she would be willing to share some thoughts on how I could find the nerdiest kid on campus to help promote my novel.

I just blew that idea.

My wife enjoys reading my blog—so that’s out. And now she wants to go with me on my campus outing.

Damn!

But no . . . wait a minute, this could work out perfectly.

What is more adorable than a middle-aged man and his wife, sharing a walk down memory lane? I’ll point out various landmarks on campus. We’ll smile a lot, and I’ll tell everyone we meet, “You know me and my wife first met and fell in love on this very spot.” It’ll be a lie, but my God what an opening. Naturally, we’ll fall into a patter of banal inanities: “So, what are you majoring in? . . . That’s nice. . . . Can I give you some sage advice on meeting the perfect guy/girl?”

At this point my wife will elbow me in the ribs; we’ll all laugh. And taking the bait, he/she will ask what we majored in and what we’re doing now.

Once hooked, all I have to do is reel them in. It’ll be perfect.

God, it’s really great living inside my mind. Wish reality was this easy.

 

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About authorwilliamcrawford

A graduate of Northwestern, William Crawford began telling stories at the age of five to his cousins late at night while on family vacations in the Great North Woods. This quickly progressed—if you can call two decades quickly progressing— to political satire. In 1996 the author created a parody on the OJ Simpson saga; My Search for the Real Killer, not by OJ Simpson became a minor cult classic. The author’s real ambition was to become a novelist. Over the years he developed several storylines. Once he retired from his safety position in government he turned that ambition into reality. The result is the Floating Man, a mystery thriller that takes place in the past and present replete with psychosexual overtones and historical figures and events that are woven into a story of love, discovery, ambition, greed, death, and redemption.
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One Response to Mind over matter . . . does it matter?

  1. Robert Kacic says:

    Middle-aged man? How long do you plan on living? 110 or 120?

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