The Writer’s Social Media Dilemma

Like most people, I have a stormy relationship with social media. Because of social media, I’ve connected with like-minded strangers I never would have met before. I’ve had ways to publish my writing that I wouldn’t have had during pre-internet days when the publishing gates were staunchly guarded. And I’ve bonded and bled online with people when real-life humans were hard to find.

But I know social media scratches and pecks at my soul. Lately, I’ve been suffering from a kind of social media Tourettes Syndrome where I find myself blurting out thoughts about people in my head that I’d never say aloud. What if I typed my first thoughts? Have you ever been in a completely quiet room and had the urge to scream as loud as you can? Or stood on a balcony and had the fear that you might suddenly lose your mind and leap the railing to soar through the air? Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll type the first thing that comes to mind when I’m on social media. And the first thing that comes to mind isn’t usually loving, neighborly, or kind. This is a signal that something isn’t well with my soul. It doesn’t elicit greater kindness, compassion, or love, but usually triggers the opposite.

My kids are still not old enough to have phones (which, of course, is debatable), but I’m dreading the future for them—and for me as their parent. Modern technology vies for our time and attention in seductive and subtle ways. I personally struggle with this addiction as a grown woman and have tried fasting or detoxing from social media during different times. Each time has been illuminating. Each time, I wished I didn’t have to check social media so often.

I mainly use social media for my work (at least that’s what I tell myself). I’m a freelance writer. As a writer and author, I’m told I must “build my platform.” Most publishers will not take a chance on a writer without a certain number of followers on the various social media platforms. Every job has a list of undesirable tasks a person must do if they want to continue in the job. The writer Elizabeth Gilbert calls these types of tasks eating the “s*** sandwich.” My actor husband said he and his actor friends often talked about putting on the waders to wade through the s***. But does the requirement to rack up followers and develop a brand and persona on social media strip down the soul of the artist beyond recognition? What’s the opportunity cost of bleeding out on social media?

Before I wrote publicly, I was a social media ghost. I rarely posted online or engaged at all. In fact, when I ran into friends I hadn’t seen for a long time and mentioned something they had posted on social media, they looked shocked that I knew that tidbit about them because I had never “liked” or commented on any of their posts. From then on, I began at least “liking” posts to counter my previous status as a social media voyeur. But when I started a blog five years ago, I had to not just creep out from under the social media rock, but scramble up—naked—and repeatedly ask people to listen to me. This is what “building a platform” felt like initially—mostly humiliating and very out of character for a person who values privacy and despises showiness.

My husband and I folded three small mountains of laundry last night as we started to watch the Netflix documentary The Social Dilemma the internet is buzzing about these days. We’ve both done some homework already on this issue, so we found it a bit cheesy and overwrought (the dramatizations especially). I found Cal Newport’s book, Digital Minimalism, to be much more insightful and highly recommend reading or listening to it. But I suppose that for those who are new to this, watching the documentary might be a good entry point for more discussion.

Let’s say we don’t want to delete every social media account or stop using the internet–how can we step onto our small or large platforms with integrity and intact souls?

We start by acknowledging we are weak. We also accept that experts developed these tools to manipulate our (natural and good) human need for connection, affirmation, and pleasure. Because of this, it helps to intentionally set strict personal boundaries for ourselves and our children.

Will we take our phones with us: to the bathroom, to bed, to the dinner table, to the meeting, on our dates, to the play date, to school, to our friend’s house, to our cars while driving, or while we exercise? Why or why not? For what purpose?

Ideally, how much time would we like to be spending on each social media platform or website? What’s the inherent value of each one? (Cal Newport goes more into this as a measure of how we decide where we spend our time.)

Are there any times of day when we’re not accessible to others? When are those times? What might be the benefit of this?

I don’t have all this figured out. This a conflict I deal with on a daily basis, whether realized or not. But for those of us who identify as “creatives,” it’s worth reflecting and wrestling with these questions, mainly because of the way our souls and creativity may wither under the weight.

Although the poet and writer May Sarton lived before the age of social media, she had the same complicated questions about success and achievement as a writer. In Journal of a Solitude, she wrote,

“I have become convinced since that horrible review … that I have been overconcerned with the materialistic aspects of bringing out this novel, the dangerous hope that it become a bestseller, or that for once; I might get a leg up from the critics, the establishment, and not have once more to see the work itself stand alone and make its way, heart by heart, as it is discovered by a few people with all the excitement of a person who finds a wildflower in the woods that he has discovered on his own. From my isolation to the isolation of someone somewhere who will find my work there is a true communion. It is free of ‘ambition’ .. This is what I can hope for and I hope for nothing more or less.” (p. 67-68)

As writers, we want our stories to find readers. We write from our own isolation to the isolation of someone else in hope that we won’t feel so alone. Social media can provide communion and connection, so we can’t say it’s entirely evil. But we’re naïve to believe social media has our best interests in mind. The question is: how can we stop being manipulated and instead use social media to invite wonder and connection, love and compassion? This may be impossible, but I’m hoping that with the proper guards in place, social media can connect more readers–even if it’s just one–to writing that illuminates their own souls.

The Writer's Social Media Dilemma: Does the requirement to rack up followers and develop a brand and persona on social media strip down the soul of the artist beyond recognition? What’s the opportunity cost of bleeding out on social media? #thesocialdilemma #socialmedia #writersandsocialmedia

*Contains Amazon affiliate links

How to Have a Digital Detox

I’m addicted.

No, I’m not addicted to alcohol, porn, drugs, or drugs. I’m addicted to my Smartphone. It’s been awhile now. I even wrote about it nearly two years ago in an article for SheLoves Magazine called It’s Time to Hide My Hashtags. At the time, I was horrified to discover that I unlocked my phone over a hundred times a day and spent two hours or more a day (on average) on my phone. Sounds ridiculous, but that’s actually average for most Smartphone users. (The fact that we app and Smartphone owners are called “users” is so telling …).

I’ve asked in Facebook groups, on Twitter, and among my real life friends, trying to figure out the magic formula to yank myself out of the Smartphone use compulsion. I started sleeping with my phone plugged in downstairs, deleted apps from my phone, got my husband to block those apps and websites on my internet browser (only he has the password), but I always make up excuses to convince him to let me creep back in the gate. Eventually I find myself right back where I started: mindlessly swiping and scrolling away precious minutes of my life.

Nothing has worked.

So coming across a book called Digital Minimalism felt serendipitous to me. I’m desperate for change. Desperate enough to call it quits on my Smartphone and social media for the whole month of December and maybe even beyond.

Cal Newport sold me within thirty pages of his book, citing all the ways Smartphones have been developed to keep us glued to our screens for one simple reason: it makes more money. He talks about the dopamine hits we receive with each “like,” how one developer called the Smartphone a “slot machine,” and others admitted developers exploit our basic human need for social approval.

Bill Maher joked that the App Store was coming for our soul. Newport writes, “As revealed by whistle blowers and researchers … these technologies are in many cases specifically designed to trigger this addictive behavior. Compulsive use, in this context, is not the result of a character flaw, but instead the realization of a massively profitable business plan. We didn’t sign up for the digital lives we now lead. They were instead, to a large extent, crafted in boardrooms to serve the interests of a select group of technology investors” (p. 24).

Scary.

So while I’ve taken a few measures and gone a week without my Smartphone before, I’ve never done an entire month. December seems like the perfect time to do a digital detox so I can start out 2020 with a clear head and greater focus (I’m also re-reading Essentialism, which is perfect for this time of year. Yes, Enneagram 3 here …)

I wondered if any of you would like to join me in the challenge?

Here’s what I’m thinking for the Great December Digital Detox of 2019 (which Newport calls “digital decluttering.” He says, “It’s a mistake to think of the digital declutter as only a detox experience. The goal is not to simply give yourself a break from technology, but to instead spark a permanent transformation of your digital life” p. 70.)

Newport recommends we:

  1. Define our technology rules and operating instructions (any exceptions to the rules).
  2. Take a 30-day break (ours will be 31 days).
  3. Reintroduce technology. (This all reminds me of the Whole 30 diet…) To do this, ask yourself:  a) “Does this technology directly support something that I deeply value—not just offer a benefit?” p. 75. b) Is this the best way to use technology to serve this value? c) How and when will I use it?

Defining My Technology Rules

(This is what I’ve worked out for myself, but you may want to tweak it for yourself)

NON-NEGOTIABLE:

Clear off all the apps from my phone that I don’t absolutely need (yes, that means Instagram..). Continue to use the app Block Site that will block apps and even my internet browser. Only my husband knows the password. I’m essentially “dumbing down” my phone to only text, make calls, use GPS, and have any other business-related apps.

Block social media (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest) on my computer. I think Block Site will also work for this. (I’ve also heard good things about Freedom, but I think you need to pay for that one.) Perhaps I’ll set up my private messages so that people get an “out of office” sort of message.

NEGOTIABLE:

News. Newport suggests just checking a curated list of articles like allsides.com or listening to a news round-up podcast like Up First by NPR (13 or 14 minutes)

Email. I can’t not check email, but I probably don’t need to check it twenty-eight times a day. I need to come up with specific times of day I will check email—probably morning, noonish, and once in the evening.

Podcasts, music, audio books. One of Newport’s chapters is about solitude and how some of the most important ideas are borne out of great swaths of time and silence to reflect (his other book Deep Work goes into greater detail about this). I tend to fill every quiet moment with someone else’s ideas, so I think I’ll take the month off of podcasts and audio books (or think of specific situations when I can listen—like when I’m cleaning toilets or something). Not sure yet about music since I do enjoy Christmas music … need some parameters for this.

Texting, Voxer, What’s App, Marco Polo, Snapchat and Facebook Messenger. Newport isn’t a fan of these because it means we’re on call at all times. He mentioned a service where you can consolidate your text messages and just check them once or twice a day. I think I’ll minimize down to texting and calling only during the month.

Camera. I could be wrong, but I’m guessing I probably don’t need to take 100 pictures a day that I never use for any good purpose. I still have a point-and-shoot camera, so I may just use that for the month and see what happens.

T.V. This was more of a distraction for me when I was single and living alone and would binge-watch Alias until 3 am. Now that I’m married with small children, I’m lucky if I watch one 42-minute show a week with my husband—and that’s mainly just so we can fold clothes. I’ll keep this (plus I’ll want to watch some Christmas movies).

Leisure Time

(What’s that?) Newport says we need to enter the month with a plan for how we’ll fill the extra time we find ourselves with. I hope to read more, play more, and talk to actual people instead of just sending messages across oceans and states. It might also be a good time to do some Advent reading, spend more time praying, and go on more walks.

That’s my plan. The book Digital Minimalism has a ton more ideas on how to actually do this, so I recommend reading or listening to it in advance!

I’ve started detoxing a bit and am already feeling less anxious and more peaceful. It’s definitely time to do this.

Join me? If you want to, send me an email at scraping raisins @ gmail (dot) com to let me know you’re in for the Great December Digital Detox of 2019.

*This post contains Amazon affiliate links

Subscribe to my monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you the first chapter of my book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness for FREE!

Welcome to Scraping Raisins!