I am not a joiner. I am not exuberantly social. The concept of mingling with a group of strangers, no matter how like-minded, is nearly enough to make my skin crawl. When I find myself in such situations, if I am expected to do one thing I am overcome by a perverse desire to do the opposite. Fortunately, my good manners usually prevent anything disastrous from happening; but the very thought that certain things are expected of me, no matter how inconsequential, makes me ill at ease. Yes, I can be that unpredictable. Yet I know that I am not alone in this: it is one of the great universal truths that small talk makes people uncomfortable. Even when a common goal is at hand–say, furthering one’s career–this type of witless chit-chat can be tedious, painful and boring.

Things were no different when I was a school-girl. I dropped out of Brownies after a year. The delight that I took in donning my little brown pinafore–I still remember the day that I picked it out of a JCPenney catalogue–was not enough to hold my interest. I tired of making useless crafts from Popsicle sticks; I already knew why it is important to be kind to old people and animals; and, most telling, I had little interest in being friends with most of the girls in my troop. Part of this was due to my natural shyness. Although I will never be gregarious–not even with half-a-dozen drinks in my system–time, experience and circumstances have largely eradicated the extreme form of shyness that I suffered from as a child. The rest, however, is a result of what I would call a personality quirk; you might call it rudeness or self-absorption. While I try not to judge people, I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to impressions; I am even worse when it comes to the after-effect of such decisions. Simply put, if I do not find you interesting, then the conversation is over; it is unlikely I will come back for more.

I was this way even at the tender age of 7, and quite possibly sooner. Life is too short to be spent in long pointless conversation with strangers. This is where Alicia and sociability part. Thus, I have not been an active member of anything since 1981. Fortunately, technology has come a long way since then: it is now possible, and perfectly acceptable, to network and market yourself solely through what our forebears would probably consider wickedly artificial means. Thank you, Internet. You were meant for people like me.

Lest you get the wrong idea, I will spend approximately one paragraph expounding on my personality and social choices. I am no hermit. I enjoy going out. I do not balk at meeting new people. I like finding friends, expanding my circle, and experiencing interesting things. I am not typing these words in a dark room in my parents’ basement. I am a modern, sophisticated, witty woman who just so happens to have no penchant for listless small-talk, coupled with the attention span of a ferret and the patience of a 2-year-old.

I know that I have stated this before, but truth bears repeating: the Internet has been a major gift for writers. It has also, most unfortunately, sated the world with more hacks and untalented aspirants than I ever thought possible; that is the topic for another day. For those willing to forgo the old-school pleasure of holding their work in their hands, the Internet has opened up thousands of new venues. I, for one, have opted for a compromise-mix of the two, hawking my work to a combination of hard-copy periodicals and on-line magazines. In the area of marketing and networking, however, I fully embrace twenty-first century means.

Networking is, it seems, one of those necessary evils for any writer desirous of being read. It is tedious, time-consuming, and soul-and-creativity draining–unless you are one of those rare people who actually goes in for that sort of thing. Most of us are not. We just want to write, to express ourselves, to weave plot and words and philosophy together into one unique vision. The naked reality is, of course, that if we do not do it no one will. Suck it up, because writing is a business like–and unlike–any other. On the Internet, raw human contact is, naturally, kept to a minimum–which can be quite nice when you are essentially whoring your most personal goods out to a bunch of nameless, judgmental strangers. You can also do it at any time of day or night. You do not have to get dressed up–or even dressed. You can edit how you present yourself down to the last crossed t and comma. Presentation is all in the words–exactly what writers are most comfortable with.

There are myriad places on the web to market and network yourself: finding the forums, forms and communities that are best for you takes a lot of effort. Networking for the Anti-Social is going to shine a hot little light on some of these sites. It is up to you to try them on for fit.

First Up (Next Time): Thirty-Something Bloggers.