Getting Googled Can Be an Education

By E. D. Easley

After more than three decades in print, it was kind of heartbreaking to find out I didn’t exist.

Well, almost didn’t exist.

That’s what I discovered when I Googled myself.

It all started when a writer asked me what I’d done over the years. I’ve been writing and editing for three decades, and rather than recite the whole tedious spiel of my career, I arrogantly smirked and asked her to just “Google me.”

Hey, I’ve been at our trade since John Lennon played harmonica in a Mercy Street garage band. I’ve been nominated for a Pulitzer, and have a pile of awards in my closet. I mean, I’ve fired writers better than I am.

A week passed, and like any good journalist, she did her research. She reported how she hadn’t found much on me. Indeed, apparently if she was hiring, I didn’t qualify for a copy editor’s job-- according to Google.

I wondered if they still had copy editors. Hey, I don’t know; I write and edit fiction now-- it’s been a while since I’ve been inside a newspaper or magazine. Maybe computers were doing that stuff these days. I worked for newspaper chains for a while, and the suits really know how to squeeze a nickel.

So, being ever the good reporter, I double-checked her facts. I Googled myself. It took all day, and I have had better experiences in cheap motels. Experiences that felt better, too.

I spent two decades in newspapers and trade magazines from the mid-seventies on. Then I dropped out to write and edit fiction about ten years ago.

I went from beat reporter to publisher while I drew a paycheck, and during that time I won a lot of awards. My ex-wives have since melted them down and turned them into ashtrays. I didn’t expect Google to forget me that fast.

Though these days I still have some lean months, I can still write. I do an article here and there. When I list my credentials, screw the resume; I figure I can arrogantly just tell the editors to “Google me” in my cover letter.

A lot of them swallow that. They’re apparently impressed, and have given me work without actually checking me out. They’re lazy suckers who either used to work for me, or spend way too much time at their local bars. Probably lousy poker players, too.

Oh-- you can’t find anything recent I’ve done on Google either. See for yourself. Google me. Even this piece won’t show up.

I mean, this is the twenty-first century; it’s the Information Age. They tell us-- what with computers-- nobody is supposed to be able to hide anything from their past. Guess what? I can. Three decades of my work has apparently been flushed down the toilet.

Barnes and Noble remember me, even if Google doesn’t. But according to them, my life began in 2003 when I published my first novel. Funny, I thought I was pushing 50…

The bright side is that is over the years, as we get a million words behind us, we’ve all generated some crap. Some really awful, glow-in-the-dark garbage that’s totally unfit for human consumption. The stuff writers have screaming nightmares about because it got through the copy desk.

You’ll never find mine. Google me.

Ed Easley has been a writer, editor, author, and photojournalist from Astoria, Ore. to Europe since the seventies. These days he writes and edits fiction as a partner with Creative Editing Solutions in Spokane, Wash.

Sponsored links

Ring binders

 

Make a Real Living as a Freelance Writer!

How to find a book publisher

Home

Text on this site Copyright © 1998-2007 Absolute Write, all rights reserved.
Please contact the authors if you'd like to reprint articles on this site.  All copyrights are retained by original authors.  And plagiarizers will be rounded up, handcuffed, and stuck into a very small and humid room wherein they must listen to Barney sing the "I Love You, You Love Me" song over and over again.

writers writing software