Twitter. Just the word fills me with horror. Then there is all the associated terminology: tweets; twitterstream; twitterers; conversationalists; marketers; followers; autofollow ... it's enough to make a sane person scream.
Twitter, as I've observed before elsewhere, makes me think of a field full of people all shouting as loudly as they can, all on 'transmit'. Apart, perhaps, from the stalkers.
And yet, and yet ....
People keep tellng me I should be on Twitter. That if I tried it, I'd like it. They've even given me some hints and tips as to how I can minimise the pain (thanks, Sam). The latest person to get on my case is Mark Coker, founder of Smashwords, via the Smashwords Marketing Guide.
All of these people may be right in what they say. It might be fun, it might be informative, it might help me to spread the word about my writing. And it's not as if I'm afraid to admit if I've been wrong about something, the most recent proof being my about-face on e-books.
But Twitter! I don't know how to get past the fact that I find it puerile, that I utterly despise the very notion of it. There might be something good in it, but if someone told me there was a gold sovereign in a cowpat and all I had to do to get it was put my hand in and ferret about, quite frankly I'd pass.
So, there we are. I'm no further forward than I was when I first seriously considered Twitter, some months back. And, for today at least, I'm not sticking my hand in the cowpat.