I have a confession to make; I Google myself regularly (perhaps I should get one of those T shirts that proclaims this).
About half the advice available to writers in the 21st century focuses on the craft of writing, and the other half is all about marketing oneself. Everyone seems to agree that you have to have a web presence. I seem to spend more time cultivating my web presence (including, ironically, writing this blog) than I do actually writing, and part of that process includes a fortnightly self-Google. And yes, sometimes this is just as clinical, uncomfortable and embarrassing as it sounds.
In trying to define, to myself and others, Who I Am on the Internet, I need first to examine Who I Am Not.
I am not Tracie McBride, Fine Artist, Web and Graphic Designer.
I am not Tracie McBride, MySpace user and 43 year old grandmother of five.
I am not Tracie McBride, admin assistant for an insurance company in Indiana, nor am I Tracie McBride, vet nurse in Florida, nor am I Tracie McBride, payroll clerk in Ohio.
I am not Tracie McBride, colon hydrotherapist in Boise, Idaho (please don’t let me ever be that Tracie McBride – I just Googled ‘colon hydrotherapy’ images, and it scarred me for life).
I am not Tracie McBride, Twitter user who appears to have a parrot obsession.
I am not Tracie McBride, 19 year old US Army Private who was abducted, raped, and beaten to death with a tyre iron in 1995. The Tracie McBride Memorial Park in Centerville, Minnesota is not named after me.