Confessions of a Social Media “Expert” -- Who Is Absolutely Not One

Truth time?

I have a full-blown, popcorn-in-hand, rabbit-hole-diving addiction to watching videos about how to “do well on social media.”

Not casually watching - Studying. Observing.

Nodding thoughtfully as someone with perfect lighting and cheekbones blessed by the algorithm tells me that if I don’t post three reels a day, engage for forty-seven minutes before and after, use trending audio from a seventeen-second clip of a remix originally posted in 2024, and position my coffee mug at a 32-degree angle… I will vanish into the void.

It is both fascinating and mildly terrifying, and I am not going to do any of it. You want to know how I know? Y’all are taking it so serious. Meanwhile, I am over here half-assing my social media presence because I know I have to. I know I should. I know visibility matters. I know marketing is important. I know the algorithm is a mysterious creature that must occasionally be fed.

And yet. I don’t particularly want to be on camera. Insert any kind of excuse here.

It’s not that I couldn’t do it. I could. I could accept that some people might throw a little hate my way and just… do the thing. I could show up with perfectly curated transitions and bold hooks and say, “Here are three reasons you need my book today.”

But you know what else? That’s not me.

I write cozy mysteries. I write stories where people care. Where family matters. Where ghosts are sometimes helpful. Where wrongs are righted. Where even in the middle of murder and mystery, the world feels safe enough to curl up in.

My fictional universe lives somewhere between the emotional comfort of Gilmore Girls and the investigative charm of Murder, She Wrote. Quirky people. Small-town energy. A little chaos. A lot of heart. And yes, a Papillon with opinions.

And here I am, trying to market that with trending audio and “POV: You just found your next favorite murder mystery.”

It feels a little like asking Jessica Fletcher to start lip-syncing.

As an indie author, I wear approximately twenty-nine hats. I am the writer. The editor. The ad manager. The newsletter fairy. The web designer. The graphics department. The accountant. The tech support line. The launch team coordinator. The customer service representative. The person who Googles “why is my website broken” at 11:43 p.m.

And somewhere in there, I am also supposed to be a charismatic on-camera personality with a content calendar color-coded to match my brand aesthetic.

There are days when social media gets the half-energy version of me. Not because I don’t care. But because I care deeply -- about the books.

The writing is not something I half-ass. The characters don’t get leftovers. The mystery doesn’t get rushed because I needed to film a reel. The emotional arcs don’t get cut short because I was editing captions.

The truth is, I want to do this. I want to connect. I want to share the behind-the-scenes chaos. I want to celebrate book launches and dog walks and plot twists and those moments when a scene clicks so perfectly it feels like magic.

But for some odd, mysterious reason known only to her, God only gives me twenty-four hours a day.

And Blueberry wants a significant portion of it.

Blueberry, my real-life Papillon and unapologetic muse, does not care about engagement metrics. She cares about walks. She cares about snacks. She cares about staring at me meaningfully while I am trying to format a newsletter. She believes strongly in work-life balance and has never once suggested I optimize my bio.

If I had to choose between perfecting a reel transition and sitting on the couch with her while I untangle a plot problem, I know which one wins.

Every time.

Maybe one day I’ll be braver on camera. Maybe I’ll post more consistently. Maybe I’ll master the art of not overthinking captions. But for now, this is me. Slightly awkward. Slightly inconsistent. Deeply committed to the stories.

If you’re here, reading this, following along despite my occasionally chaotic social media energy, thank you. Truly.

You’re not just watching content.

You’re supporting a one-woman creative circus who is trying to tell good stories in a loud world.

And I promise you this: even on the days I half-ass a post, I whole-heart the books.

Always.

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