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I have been feeling a bit guilty about something, and I'm here to confess my sins. 

I don't want to be your fan.

Yes, it's true.  I like you or I think I like you.  Actually, I don't know you at all.  We've never met in person.  We met online, through Facebook, and that's when I learned we had 268 mutual friends.  So I figured, How can 268 people be wrong?  I added you as my friend, and things have been going nicely.  I've learned about your writing and your husband's penchant for pot pie.  I clicked though your daughter's high school graduation photos and before I disabled the sea garden program, we traded little fishies.  You didn't mind my occasional book shout outs, and I didn't mind yours.

But then you asked me to become a fan.

Maybe it's the word.  I hate that word, thinking of the fawning inside the meaning.  I think of the 60's and the girls passing out over the Beatles.  I think of slaves working the large feathered fan over the reclining prince, king, queen.  I think of the annoying fan in my door on hot nights.  I think of all the announcements I would get if I joined every fan page.

So I say no.  No, that's wrong.  I "ignore" you and your page.

Maybe I'm behind the times in terms of marketing, but I don't want a page for my fans.  I'm hopeful that there are people who like my work, but I don't want a fan page.  It's also an embarrassing thing, I think, because we create them ourselves.

"Hey," we say.  "I'm a tad desperate here, just like all my other fellow writers.  We are trying to grab hold of something that we are all trying to hold.  Come be my fan."

The slave pulls the fan; the blades oscillate in front of my door; the Beatles play on; girls faint everywhere.

Ugh.

So instead of thinking and then writing all of this to you, I ignore you and move on.  But sometimes, you ask me again.  And again.  I keep ignoring. 

I'm sorry I'm not your fan.  But I am your friend.  Please post your photos.  Please post recipes.  Just don't ask me to trade fishies or be your fan.

Jessica

 

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Rah! Rah! Jes.si.ca!! Go,

Rah! Rah! Jes.si.ca!! Go, Writer, GO!!!!!

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Well said

I really enjoy connecting with friends on Facebook and seeing their holiday photos but I detest all the quizzes and invitations that go along with them.

I don't want people to send me cocktails or Easter eggs. I don't need a set of questions to find out my personal style or my typing speed.

I was just never brave enough to say so. Thanks for "outing" me!

Laura
http://www.accidentalguru.blogspot.com

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yeah

Some Facebook templates just don't translate well from one use to another. I'm fine with being a fan of Nina Simone or Toni Morrison. But when those "fan" pages became something artists would create for themselves and *invite you to join* . . . well, no. Not so much.

Don't just ignore the requests -- decline them, and be done with it. : )

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I thought I'd hate Facebook

It's been particularly good for reconnecting with schoolmates, who I thought had all remained in 12th grade and sweet 18; I thought I was the only one just graduated from the 48th grade. Other stuff on Facebook: for the birds. As for being a fan, why not. If I am asked by a real friend, it takes nothing to click yes and make her day-lol. If this person's messages get to be too pesky, I delete myself from her fan group.

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Belle, we have been through

Belle, we have been through this facebook discussion before, I know--and I really apprecciate it in so many ways. Like you said, old schoolmates have popped up out of the woodwork. Very fun, very interesting. And I'm with you, too, Laura, this idea of it being good in its way.

But the fan thing--I don't get. I get so many annoucements from folk that I'm not sure what to do now, and the fan pages I have joined--like Evie mentioned above--of really famous people (I am a fan of Toni Morrison)--haven't sent me a thing.

Maybe it's all about me when I join one of those--look, I'm damn fine; I'm a fan of Toni and John Irving and other smart ones.

I don't know. I'm learning as I go along, but I didn't know there was a way to say no other than ignore. I will be clear and not passive aggressive!

And Rah! Rah! back to you Dale. Thank you.

Best,

J

Jessica Barksdale Inclan
www.jessicabarksdaleinclan.com

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no, you're right

I think the options are "accept" or "ignore."  Facebook's way of enforcing civility?  : )  Anyway, to click "ignore" is a very different thing than to *actually ignore* the requests -- which is also an option.  : )  I don't know what else to suggest.  You've obviously got some persistent "friends"...

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Yes, I received two others

Yes, I received two others yesterday (all new ones).  In fact, I think that some folks are actually easing me right now with their damned fan pages, and I'm taking it in stride!

And I can't ignore but I do "ignore" rather than accept.  Clicking ignore feels bad, but there you have it!

Best,

J

Jessica Barksdale Inclan www.jessicabarksdaleinclan.com

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I've read 'Misery'... I

I've read 'Misery'... I don't want fans. They take you to out-of-the-way places and hobble you.

When I first joined Facebook, a writer asked me to be her friend. I didn't know who she was from Adam, but she had eleventy-billion friends, so I thought she must be a very nice person. Then I got the 'please be my fan' requests, and the 'to my adoring fans' messages. I was still trying to figure out if she was famous - I haven't watched TV for four years, so she could have rocketed to fame when I wasn't looking. Eventually, I quietly removed her from my list and hoped she didn't notice.

I like the fan pages for museums because they send you updates about exhibitions.

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I've likewise taken off some

I've likewise taken off some folk who like to tell me about every blog they are blogging on, when their next readings are, all of them, when they are coming out with each and everything they have.

I am okay with the occasional book thing--hey, I'm doing it as well.  But not the daily show of "me."

Live and learn, I think.

Best,

J

Jessica Barksdale Inclan www.jessicabarksdaleinclan.com

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from a potential fan

After reading this blog, I think I like you. - Ann Seymour