When It Comes To TikTok, Don't Be Andie in the Cerulean Sweater

I would've laughed if you told me I'd be making TikTok videos last year, I would've laughed. And laughed.

But I now have made about 20 videos. What changed? Read on.

Six months ago, I knew I had to break up with Facebook. Although I'd miss updates from mentors I loved and touching base with friends and family, it wasn't fun anymore. It was a drag. For months, anytime someone had good news to share: a book contract, a new house, or acceptance in a new anthology, I wasn't happy for them. I felt so utterly jealous I couldn't see straight. Never mind, they worked hard on their craft. Never mind, they earned a new house. It should be me. I was also tired of people giving me unasked advice on my book. No, I'm not self-publishing; no, I am not doing a hybrid publisher. Yet the unasked-for advice kept coming. I also noticed people weren't reading my writing anymore I was posting, or they had no idea I had posted it.

After letting friends know I was deactivating my account, I did it. I felt a lot lighter. I was still using Twitter, trying to stay active. But last month, Elon Musk took over and made decisions to which I realized I couldn't be a party to. I deactivated that account as well. I sat there staring at my laptop. Did I just shoot myself in the foot career-wise? I know social media is part of the national platform I need to have. But even when I had two big social media platforms, my work wasn't being noticed. It was a lose-lose situation. I decided to take the loss that wouldn't damage my mental health.

I took a class with Jane Friedman about building a national platform. Several people were in the same boat I was in: done with Twitter and Facebook. What now? Friedman recommended LinkedIn, building your website (which I will be doing soon), and getting new headshots (Thanks, JCPenneys photo studio). She also recommended TikTok. I thought, Janie babe, no. I'm not a twenty-something kid. I'm fifty years old and just figured out who JoJo Siwa is. I couldn't do TikTok. But there was a big gap in my platform now that Facebook and Twitter had been kicked to the curb. Friedman recommended taking novelist Leigh Stein's classes on TikTok. I signed up for back-to-back classes with Stein.

In the meantime, I signed up with TT. Made a couple of videos, including one promoting an essay I wrote about Douglas Marland, a soap opera writer I've loved since I was a kid. No hits. But I wanted to go to Stein's class with an open mind. So I went in, and she talked about how BookTok, a sub-community of TT, was helping writers. Novelist Colleen Hoover's sales tripled so much that she took half of the?NYT paperbacks list. Michelle Filgate, who edited an anthology?What My Mother and I Don’t Talk About?three years ago, was shocked to find the book was trending again, thanks to a viral TT video.

I asked lots of questions. One was I was borderline sick of social media; how would I handle TikTok? She said she understood, but TT was becoming more and more influential with book sales. People looking down on it were going to miss out. "You don't want to be Andie in the blue sweater getting lectured by Meryl Streep," she warned.

Wait, you never saw that clip? See below.

When I first saw it in 2006, I felt really bad for Andie. Now I get it. Oh, how I get it. Booktok represents hard work done by writers, video makers, book lovers. It influenced-for better or for worse-what people are reading. I didn't want to be Andie wearing that blue -correction-cerulean?sweater and look down on something that clearly was influencing others. I wanted to be badass Miranda, not taking any guff, only a little nicer.

I asked another question-no one was reading my writing on TT. There wasn't a place even to put my links. What good is it, then, if you're not promoting yourself? Stein said this: "This isn't your QVC account. This is your HBO channel." Meaning: stop promoting, promoting yourself all the time. Share about something you love, meaning books. It doesn't mean you can't share your writing. Do it in video essays; try something new.

When I heard that, it was a relief. I know it's important for people to read my essays, my words. But it's also important to just have fun. That night I created a video of a QVC clip I found on YouTube, then posted it. I then started playing around with the format of my BookTok videos. I am trying to promote books that haven't been represented much on the platform: Ariel Gore's?The Wayward Writer,?a new biography of Sondheim. Not everyone can be Colleen Hoover.

What am I learning on BookTok? People love books. Not just love books. LOVE. It's refreshing to hear. None of my videos have gone viral, and that's okay. I'm giving it a go. I'm not Andie in her cerulean sweater, scoffing. I'm trying to see how this new deal works. Mostly I feel like Granny Clampett trying to figure out what that music is in the house (it's the doorbell), but like Granny, I'm willing to learn from the young folk.

As long as they don't give me unasked-for advice.