Here’s an embarrassing recurring accident:
I pull out my iPhone, choose the Goodreads ap, and wait to see what pops up. I belong to several groups there, my favorite of which is called Horror Aficionados, and I sometimes like to check out what’s happening with my fellow twisted horror fans. But then, somehow, inexplicably, I click the button on my profile that says “You are now a fan of Jonathan Janz.”
After staring at my phone for a split second in utter horror, I scramble to find a way to stop being a fan of myself, but really, the damage is already done. The way it works is that my Goodreads friends receive updates about me (my reviews, my hopes and dreams), and they’ve already seen that I’ve become a fan of myself. Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with authors being fans of their own work, but I go with my gut on stuff like this, and my gut tells me I look like a self-aggrandizing, socially unaware, attention-seeking dipwad at whom people are laughing incredulously and rolling their eyes: “My, my, my. Someone is full of himself today, isn’t he?” *pompous sniff*
Now, folks might not be thinking any of the above, but I’m thinking they’re thinking it, and that’s enough for me. Oh, sure, eventually I’m able to get on my laptop and de-fan myself, but what message am I sending then? That I don’t like my own work? That for twelve minutes I thought that Janz guy was cool but then decided he’s a no-talent hack?
And this, my friends, has happened three times now. The insane part of it is when I go back to my Goodreads iPhone ap, I can’t even find what button to click to become a fan of myself. Which leads me to believe it’s invisible and has actually been placed there by the NSA to strike back at a horror author whose July release (CASTLE OF SORROWS) includes the deaths of several fictional FBI employees. And that means the NSA has somehow gotten hold of my manuscript, which means they’ve hacked either my computer, the PC of Don D’Auria (my editor at Samhain), or the home of my agent Louise Fury. And if they can get to Louise, who on earth is safe?! I WANT MY RIGHTS!!!
Okay. Rant over. If you need me, I’ll be huddling in the corner of my underground bunker with my survivalist friends. And if you decide to drop in, we’ll be the ones in the tinfoil hats.
The password is dipwad.