Joining the Club

And so the task of selling the book begins.

I hit upon the idea of joining forums, so that I could pimp links, which in turn would feed the spiders and bump me up the search rankings. The problem is that I have never been much interested in epeening on forums. But needs must....

So off I go.

I sign up to a forum that appears to be either popular, or paying, as it is the top of the googles.

The usual schtick is to type the letters and numbers to prove you are not a robot. Not here. 'who wrote the Raven?' they want to know. Edgar Alan Poe, I reply. Wrong. Fill in the passwords again, next question. 'Who wrote Pride and Prejudice?' Ummmm.... Jane Austen or is it Jane Austin? I don't know, having never managed to wade through more than a page and a half of her work - they are great on the radio, but unreadable. Reset passwords. 'Mary had a little lamb it's fleece was....?' And I'm in.

I'm then faced with a profile page that is either very specifically designed in order to give an accurate reflection of the hidden truths of the creative process, or they are selling it to the NSA.

The question that really baffled me was 'what level of criticism would you like?' There were three options ranging from 'just my poetry' to 'Maoist character assassination.' Actually this was perhaps not the most baffling because there were about ten choices for those wishing to express their romantic relationship. I didn't even know there were ten choices of relationship. The choice clearly fed into the next question, as to what sort of friendship I was seeking with other members. I found myself wondering at this point if they took luncheon vouchers, as it was all getting a little too Madam Cyn for my taste.

All I want is to pimp a few links, and suddenly I am being asked to declare my level of willingness to take Elizabeth Barrett Browning up the coal scuttle.

Clearly this sandwich board business is not so easy as I was led to believe.