Just before my latest book, Home Girl, came out in June 2008, the Random House promotion team invited me in to discuss strategy. There, in an office reassuringly lined with blockbusters, we covered the usual terrain. Did I have contacts at television networks? Know any reviewers at the Los Angeles Times? We went over a list of who might blurb.

Then the marketing lady asked about my friends. I sheepishly admitted that I didn’t have many intimates, maybe ten or so on my A List. But no, I had misunderstood. She meant friends as in Facebook. How many did I have?

“I’m nearly fifty,” I sputtered. “I don’t do Facebook.”

“Get on,” she counseled. “There’s no book tour.”

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