You had the best of intentions.
You’re a musician who noticed that Twitter was becoming a must-have tool in any serious artist’s arsenal, and you didn’t want to get left in the dust. You’ve never been one to stand on the social media sidelines, and this was to be no different. You signed up for a Twitter account, and immediately began formulating the many ways in which you could use it to your advantage. You started following some people related to your interests. You dipped your toe in the pool and shot off some tweets. You even threw in some “@” messages to let people know you understood how the whole thing worked. It was all going great.
But then you fell behind. You didn’t check out your feed for a few days, and when you returned, the amount of tweets you felt obligated to sift through seemed insurmountable. You felt like there had been a conversation going on while you were out of the room, and now you were way behind. On top of that, you didn’t have any new announcements to make about your music, and didn’t really feel like you had much else to say, either. And, to be honest, you were starting to think you weren’t much of a Twitter person. The whole concept just hadn’t ever clicked with you.
Which is fine. But now I’m looking at your Twitter page because I found some of your music online and I really like it. I’m a hardcore Twitter user and I’m really interested in learning more about you and your music. After doing a quick Google search, I found your Twitter page, and this is what I’m seeing: “Thanks for coming to the show last night!” And it’s timestamped “2 Sep 09.” Lame.
Now I’m confused, and I begin to make assumptions: Apparently you’re someone who starts things and doesn’t finish (or at least keep up with) them. Apparently you don’t have anything going on. Like, nothing. Apparently you’re lazy and/or boring and/or not interested in connecting with people, even though you pretended to be for a while a year ago.
Here’s what I would have thought if you had no Twitter account at all: “Eh, bummer. Guess they don’t Twitter.” And that would have been the end of it.
Twitter or don’t. If you have an account that you’re not using, cancel it. If you’re concerned about someone stealing your unique username – to the point that you think someone might take it and pretend they’re you – post a final tweet that directs people to where you are active on the internet. Leaving your presence open-ended is poor form, and it’s just going to frustrate potential fans.
This is one of the rare cases in which you’re better off not being present at all.
-Brad at CD Baby
Chris Robley is an acclaimed singer-songwriter and award-winning poet from Maine.
His Beatlesque indie-pop and milltown Americana songs have been praised by The Associated Press, No Depression, KCRW, The LA Times, Boston Globe, NPR, American Songwriter, and others.
His poems have appeared in Poetry Magazine, Prairie Schooner, The Poetry Review, and more.
Robley has received a Maine Literary Award in Poetry, Boulevard’s Emerging Writers Prize for Poetry, and in 2016 was selected by former US-poet laureate Robert Pinsky as a finalist for the Dorset Prize.