To tell a compelling story…

I leave you tweeps, my tweeps I leave you

Posted on: August 17, 2010

To steal blatantly quote from author Evan Mandery, it’s later than you think.

My mother’s diagnosis made me realize that tomorrow is not a promise. It’s an expectation, an act of faith, a possibility. I’ve been doing too much waiting for tomorrow but what if there is no tomorrow?

When I was in the process of buying my house, I waited weeks for a settlement date and finally contacted the seller’s realtor to find out why I’d heard nothing. Turns out the seller’s attorney was hit by a bus.

Yes, actually hit by an actual bus.

No one knew anything about the deals he was working on. No one knew to contact me. I was hanging on this date, had movers standing by. Worse, I was never able to learn if the man survived.

Last week, we lost one of our coworkers from a sudden heart attack. That got me thinking… what if the unthinkable happens to me? I’m no BFD (Big Freakin’ Deal) so there won’t be news coverage of my demise. What then? How will my tweeps know that you’ll never hear from me again? I need to do something so you won’t worry. Am I being morbid? Perhaps. But I prefer to think of it as pragmatic.

Worry might *gasp* go on indefinitely. Since I’ve joined Twitter, I’ve felt this kind of worry quite a few times now. Someone did not follow his or her usual patterns, which triggered my impersonation of a car going 0 to 60, except I ratchet from “Hmm” to “Holy #$!^&(@! Crap!!” in 0.9 seconds. What? Your imagination doesn’t snap into overdrive like this?

Turns out, the couple of times this has happened, it was just people busy with their daily grinds taking a Twitter hiatus.  It’s allowed.  Sorry for making you feel any sort of pressure but I don’t want anybody worrying about me.

I want you to care, but NOT worry.  So, I checked it out and learned Twitter has a death policy. So does Facebook. But that policy does little more than shut down accounts belonging to deceased users. So, for extra reassurance, I have left a set of instructions with my last will and testament that includes the passwords to both Twitter accounts, both blogs, Facebook, LinkedIn and gmail. (Stop sending me porn, Tawna. (Kidding.)) My sons have been instructed to post something in case anything happens to me so you all don’t sit there lamenting, “Where is Patty? Her book review is due this week, she promised me a guest post on my blog and is critiquing my manuscript!”

Along with my engagement ring, my DVD collection of the X-Files series, directions to my secret chocolate stash, my unfinished manuscripts, and oh yes, my debt (sorry, boys!), my sons have now inherited… um, well each of you.

*sighs in relief* There. I feel better knowing you won’t worry about me.

Do you obsess over things that might happen when you’re gone?


11 Responses to "I leave you tweeps, my tweeps I leave you"

It’s crossed my mind, but I’m still in denial that I’m too young to worry about it (I’m not, by the way – I’m the age people used to hope to live to in the 1800’s…)

I do have instructions with my girlfriends to burn our collective journal of thoughts and notes about our Girls’ Nights Out. We call it “the journal of shame.”

Interesting about the dead-user thing on Twitter & FB – I had no idea!

The Journal of Shame?! You should publish it; it sounds intriguing! (Change the names to protect the guilty.)

I was having a seemingly good day today.

Work is moving at a great pace. New business is doing well and while not going gangbusters yet, it has only been a week, I was starting to calm down. Did you see where I wrote starting. Because now I have to worry about this. Who will contact my tweeps? I have no idea. There is no one I trust with this job, but right this moment divine inspiration has struck.

I am adding a codicil to my will which will leave YOU in charge of all things social networking. Whew. Now I feel better. Don’t worry I left explicit instructions so you will know what all the passwords are.

What a great idea!

Thanks Patty.


HAHA! Thanks, Kelly.

Wait! You’re leaving your chocolate stash to your sons. How cruel!

I guess I’ll have to leave you something… how about my imaginary dog?

I love it! I’ll remember to imagine walking him.

Remember to let him sniff the imaginary fire hydrant.

Is it weird that I think about this too??? Maybe writers just have overactive imaginations… ;o)

Exactly! Though my over-activity tends to spiral down, at times.

I wonder how many people read this blog and rolled their eyes?

I never thought about it until now. You don’t think that you’d be the one that it would happen to.

Not long ago I was at a party and my friend introduced me to his friend. The woman’s partner had died recently. Suddenly.

She told us how she couldn’t let those he knew know because he never gave her the passwords to his email etc accounts.

The mum of another friend of mine emailed me with the news of his passing. It always jolts me when I see his FB profile come up on the right hand side where FB suggests to say hello.

Thanks for the post, Patty. It made me think.

And it may take me time – because I live across the ocean and I sleep at weird times – to get back to you but I do.

That was exactly my point. You never think it will happen. That it can happen. And it seems like a trivial matter. But as I wrote in an earlier blog, the connections I’ve made online are now real friendships to me. Imagining my demise and having nobody know what happened does not sit well with me.

I realize many people reading this will simply click away from the blog and shrug it off, so maybe it’s just me.

Either way, I feel much better having taken this step.

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Hi! Welcome to my blog. I’m Patty.

I'm a writer represented by Denise Little, The Ethan Ellenberg Agency. I love to tell stories, to boast about my sons, to indulge in a serious chocolate obsession. (I often combine these passions.)

During the day, I write software user guides, but at night, I let my hair down... and write whatever I want. (I know. You expected something else. Sorry.) I'm currently working on a YA story about sexting gone horribly bad called SEND. I use this blog to explore my passions.

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