Monday 29 December 2014

Twitter I'm finding more like work than fun these days. If you're a 'creative' you're supposed to have a 'presence' there and so I try to keep my Tweet rate up but...

I dunno. The people I've made friends with there and my real life pals I've be-twittered are great, don't get me wrong. Most people are great there.
It's just the constant background radiation of aggression (and aggression untethered from consequence) that I find exhausting. 

The mobs, the dog piles, the follower-weaponised leaders, the invisible hierarchies, the passive-aggressive hashtags, the death threats, the rape threats, the attention seeking, the culture wars with no end in sight and no true wish for an end, the scorn, the mean sarcasm, the distain for nuance, the never-questioned certainties, the putrid little orthodoxies groping for our souls. 

I think writing a novel makes me see it that way. It's safer there, serene as the quiet Welsh hills. A year or so ago I was as much a Twittershit as anyone, desperate not to be drowned out in the mass. Now I just want to scribble and let someone else handle all that 'presence' stuff for me. But the 'creative' world just doesn't roll like that no more. We're all hucksters now, vaudevillians. And there's no going back.

1 comment:

  1. I dunno. I wish sometimes I'd let B. Traven be more of a role model for me. In any case, well said and keep focused on that novel!