Now did I ever tell you why I started this account, some 7 or so years ago?
Well it's not for the reasons you might think...
In 2013 the company I worked for decided all us old folk needed to 'get with it' and learn about social media.
We were sent on a course in London's 'Silicone Roundabout*' where various webheads and marketeers told us what was what.
(*don't ask!)
There were a lot of fixed ideas about what social media was and wasn't, what worked and what didn't. It was part technobabble and part sales talk.
As a veteran of the '90s web I started to smell a bit of 'new paradigm' BS in the air.
But my boss wanted Twitter content, preferably with lots of analytics so he could impress his boss. And I was supposed to make it.
Actually a team of us were suposed to make it because content made by committee is the best form of content.
Reader, it was terrible.
So rather than read all the social media marketing guff I had signed up to, or worse go on another course, I decided to try and find out for myself what actually worked - and didn't work - on Twitter if you had no budget, no designers, and no Hootsuite.
I set up an account.
The aim was simple: starting from zero how long would it take to get to 3,000 followers and what tactics would work best to do this. I could then fold the account and get on with my job.
How little I could gave known...
I began with some ground rules:
- no getting people I knew to follow me: I wanted to attract new people who bumped into me online
- no selling anything: I wasn't trying to sucker folk in to turn a coin
- no personal details: the content, not the account owner, should do the work
So seven years later what have I learnt? What are the mysterious secrets of Twitter?
Well I have a few broad lessons to share - and do feel free to disagree! - but from my point of view here's what seems to work...
Firstly I was very lucky to pick a good handle. Not only is is short and memorable but it signifies an intent - and that turns out to be very important to Twitter browsers!
It seems to be that people like people on Twitter who have a clear USP: folk who have an obvious reason for being here and tweeting stuff. People who are predictable.
After all, why are you here?
Well many people are here because it's fun to share. Their accounts are a personal stream of consciousness, and there is something fascinating about watching the planet's unconscious mind flit across your screen as you scroll down your feed.
But those with large follower numbers seem to have something else. They have a schtick. It may be a passion they share, a product they plug, a viewpoint they hammer home.
It may just be a gift for being provocative - many blue ticks have built their career on that!
Consistent, reliable content on a theme - rather than random tweets - seems to be a key ingredient in audience building. And that's where I landed on my feet: by accident and not design I had a schtick - old book covers.
With a name like Pulp Librarian what else could I tweet?
That leada me to point #2. All the marketeers told me it was the content, rather than the channel, that mattered. Twitter was just a postbox, part of a marketing mix to get well honed content in front of as many eyeballs as possible. Content was king!
Turns out that's bullsh*t.
I can look at Twitter metrics for tweets that reached half a million eyeballs, with 3k+ retweets and pickup across many other channels. Do you know how many followers that gains you?
Two. Maybe three on a good day.
And that's because of insight #3: people don't share content because it's good. They share it because IT MAKES THEM LOOK GOOD!
Nobody cares where it came from, what matters is that it makes other people notice them when they share it.
Content on it's own is a currency, and it's value lies in the last person who shares it. If that's you, well congratulations - you spotted it so you earn the reward. That's how it works.
If you want props for putting it out there you need something else.
Consistency! You need to become the bank that pumps out the content currency for others to spend.
Regular, persistant themed content is the key to growing an audience. And I can look back at my own Twitter stream on some days and see it happening in real time.
Someone will like a piece of content. Then after a few minutes they'll like some earlier content. Then some even earlier content. They're scrolling back through my account and asking 'does this guy give me useful stuff?' If the answer is yes I normally get a follow for a while.
And visual content works best, unless you're blessed with the gift of verbal wit or biting invective. Pictures work. They tell a story in themselves that can be understood in a second. Again, I fell on my feet by tweeting book covers. Very skilled people created them.
Which brings me to the next point: the morality of tweeting other people's content. None of this stuff is mine, so where do I get off posting the hard work of others just to get a few likes? Is that fair?
Well there are fair use rules about other people's content. If it's for the purpose of review or education, and credit is given, then it is allowable. Can I do a that in 280 characters?
I do try.
Authors and artists get the credit where I can, and I try to tell a story about the work I feature. Though not in this thread, as you've noticed, due to space.
The use of commercial content by amateur accounts will always be a bone of contention online.
But the main reason I keep.doing it is this: everything is ephemeral. Large chunks of the old web have gone. At some point social media will go too.
Everything you put online lives on rented property. Some day they'll shut it down and it will all be lost.
So what I'm really trying to do is decant some of the old web - Internet 1.0 - onto Twitter, with the stories, the background and the information before it all goes.
Nobody surfs the web any more: chunks of it are now ghost towns. IoT will eventually kill off most of the rest.
Twitter too is struggling: it's an older person's media, and in some ways that's good. But it's not where the money is. And money decides what lives and dies on the WWW. We are increasingly hitching a ride on someone else's business model.
And yes, Twitter can be an awful place on many a day. Outrage drives engagement; engagement drives traffic; advertisers pay for data from high traffic platforms to sell stuff to you. It's not a great business model.
But it's what we have, and before they replace it with holograms and blipverts there's time and space for us to carve out temporary niches for our various passions: however odd they may be.
And that's why I'm still here. I found a passion. I don't have anything to sell, I have no idea what I'm doing, I don't schedule anything or jump on hashtags. Most mornings I wake with a half-formed idea, do the research and knock up a thread. It's fun.
That, in the end, is what I learnt about what works on Twitter. Are you having fun doing stuff? If you are, people will follow you - for a while. If it's just a job, then maybe not.
That's why I left my job in social media seven years ago.
Happy Intertube everybody!
(Oh, and never worry about spelling, punctuation or grammar in your tweets. There's no edit button on Twitter so its not you're fault if the spellinz go awry...)
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He was the terror of London; a demonic figure with glowing eyes and fiery breath who could leap ten feet high. The penny dreadfuls of the time wrote up his exploits in lurid terms. But who was he really?
Today I look at one of the earliest pulp legends: Spring-Heeled Jack!
London has always attracted ghosts, and in the 19th Century they increasingly left their haunted houses and graveyards and began to wader the capital's streets.
But one apparition caught the Victorian public attention more than most...
In October 1837 a 'leaping character' with a look of the Devil began to prey on Londoners. Often he would leap high into the air and land in front of a carriage, causing it to crash. It would then flee with a high-pitched laugh.
It was the biggest manhunt in Britain: police, the press, aeroplanes, psychics all tried to solve the disappearance. In the end nobody really knew what happened. It was a mystery without a solution.
This is the story of Agatha Christie's 11 lost days...
By 1926 Agatha Christie's reputation as a writer was starting to grow. Her sixth novel - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - had been well-received and she and her husband Archie had recently concluded a world tour. But all was not well with the marriage.
In April 1926 Agatha Christie’s mother died. Christie was very close to her: she had been home-schooled and believed her mother was clairvoyant. The shock of her sudden death hit the author hard.
Many readers have asked me over the years what my definition of pulp is. I've thought about it a lot, and the definition I keep coming back to... well it may surprise you.
Let me try and set it out.
There are lots of definitions of pulp out there: in books, in academic papers and on the web. And most circle back to the same three points: the medium, the story type and the method of writing.
Pulp is of course a type of cheap, coarse paper stock. Its use in magazine production from the 1890s onwards led to it becoming a shorthand term for the kind of fiction found in low cost story magazines.
let's take a look at the extraordinary work of Victorian illustrator and cat lover Louis Wain!
Louis Wain was born in London in 1860. Although he is best known for his drawings of cats he started out as a Victorian press illustrator. His work is highly collectable.
Wain had a very difficult life; born with a cleft lip he was not allowed to attend school. His freelance drawing work supported his mother and sisters after his father died. Aged 23 he married his sisters' governess, Emily Richardson, 10 years his senior.
Over the years a number of people have asked me if I have a favourite pulp film. Well I do. It's this one.
This is the story of Alphaville...
Alphaville: une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution (1965) was Jean-Luc Godard’s ninth feature film. A heady mix of spy noir, science fiction and the Nouvelle Vague at its heart is a poetic conflict between a hard-boiled secret agent and a supercomputer’s brave new world.
British writer Peter Cheyney had created the fictitious American investigator Lemmy Caution in 1936. As well as appearing in 10 novels Caution featured in over a dozen post-war French films, mostly played by singer Eddie Constantine whom Godard was keen to work with.
Al Hartley may have been famous for his work on Archie Comics, but in the 1970s he was drawn to a very different scene: God.
Today in pulp I look back at Hartley's work for Spire Christian Comics - a publisher that set out to spread the groovy gospel...
Spire Christian Comics was an offshoot of Spire Books, a mass-market religious paperback line launched in 1963 by the Fleming H. Revell company. The point of Spire Books was to get religious novels into secular stores, so a move into comic books in 1972 seemed a logical choice.
The idea was to create comic book versions of popular Spire Books like The Cross and the Switchblade; David Wilkinson's autobiographical tale of being a pastor in 1960s New York. It had already been turned into a film, but who could make it into a comic?