Well, I've gone and done it. I have a MySpace page. (There's also a link up there at the top.)

Conflicting emotions surround this, I have to tell ya. In fact, I feel like I should lie down here on this couch. We can discuss it. Tell me when my hour is up.

Am I too old for MySpace? I feel like I'm too old, like it's the internet equivalent of wearing a High School Musical t-shirt. But everyone else has a MySpace. Certainly authors have a MySpace. They all have websites, too. I have a website. I also have a Twitter and a Flickr and a blog, and all of those things I'm good with. But MySpace? I dunno. I feel like it's mainly a vehicle for getting messages from the girl you sat next to in third period algebra fifteen years ago. And I'm not convinced that's a good thing, mostly because I have the world's worst memory for names. This could get embarrassing.

Also, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with the page. I filled out the questionnaire thingy, except I refuse to tell you what religion I am or how I feel about having children. I also uploaded some pictures. Some are the same as on Flickr. Few new ones. But other than that, I'm at a loss. Feel free to enlighten me. Clearly, I need it.

I also need some friends. I don't know exactly what happens when you make a "friend" on MySpace, but I know you're supposed to and that it's now a verb i.e. "Okay, cool. So yeah, just friend me later."

In my head, that comes out in a Valley girl accent, which just sends me deeper into the I-have-a-MySpace-page shame spiral.

I'm going to need some help with this.

But hey, if it works out, I might even get a CrimeSpace page, like MySpace but for mystery authors and lovers...lovers of mysteries not necessarily mystery authors' lovers. But them, too, I suppose. Spread the love.



And hey, did you hear? I'm a hoot. Also really into dives. What can I say? I'm a cheap date.