Unfollow and unfriend everybody.
The End.
Just kidding. There’s more to this story.
Seriously, though, I’m up writing late this evening (10:34 PM is late for me, who is wont to go to bed on Granny Time). There’s been something on my mind lately that I really want to talk about, but haven’t been sure where to start the conversation, or what effect it might create. So I’ve decided to share it here.
You see, I seem to be having the same conversation lately with everyone I talk to: clients, colleagues, friends. So many of us — and I certainly include myself in this group — are feeling SO OVER THE INTERNET. Especially over social media.
For me, the OVER IT-ness is specifically around Twitter.
Before you tell me, But Abby, Twitter is what you make it — I so know that. I have been making it what I’ve wanted to make it. And therein lies the problem. And so now, I’m making it something new — something I need right now.
But first, let me tell you a story.
Input is my party trick.
When I used to teach high school English (in my pre-business owning days), I had a sort of party trick I’d demonstrate to students on the first day of school, every year. Within 55 minutes (that’s how long each class was) of taking attendance for the first time and putting a face to each name, I’d do The Name Thing. I’d lay the roster facedown on my desk and proceed to go seat by seat, row by row, and recite the names — first, middle, and last — of every student in the classroom. Up to 30 students per class, up to 6 classes a day. My accuracy rate was about 80-90%, the first time through.
What’s my trick? It’s not a photographic memory, but a high Input strength. My mind is constantly in Input More mode (even when I’m dead sleepy, quite sick, or otherwise compromised) and I rapidly catalogue and archive new info according to my own specific schemata. I collect names, data, and details like other people collect baseball cards. Or tattoos.
Input has been my way of getting through the world. I rely on Knowing Stuff About Stuff.
For this reason, Twitter has been a huge joy — a perpetually updated feed of info parcels for my consumption, some of them even wittily wrought! — and a huge hindrance to my being able to stay in creation mode, in flow, and at peace. Because my penchant for multitasking is so high, I move my business forward on the daily while always knowing what everybody else is up to.
I want to quit that habit.
Breaking up is hard to do.
I’ve been using Twitter for business since 2008 (certainly not the early days of Twitter, but, well, for five years!) and I’ve been on Facebook longer than that. These platforms have changed through the years, but one thing is certain: the inflation of airy ideas and plastic promises into near-religious doctrine (in 140-character homilies) is at an all-time high. (Are you with me?) Not to mention, the ego battles, the link blitzes, the snark fests, the one-sided humor, the political diatribes, etc.
I’m not saying I’m not part of it. I certainly contribute my own biz-promotional tweets to the mix. There’s nothing wrong with any of us using Twitter for business. Heck, if I didn’t have a business, I probably wouldn’t even be on Twitter. (It’s a privacy thing for me. Not so into sharing my personal life over the interwebs. No judgement if you do.)
Now granted, Twitter is quite often a wonderful, validating, ego-supportive place to be.
But is that really so good for a creator, or a teacher, or a consultant, to be petted, praised, and stroked? Are we training our brains to need the ongoing validation, the retweets, and the backchannel high-fives that flow in over DM? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my creative output to hinge one iota on some kind of Pavlovian response.
On a delightful day, of course, I adooooooore Twitter. It’s one of the most fun places in the world for writers. We get to communicate in short, poem-like bursts of concrete ideas. We get to practice our dialogue-writing skills. We get to experience the rush of a first-time share from Somebody Big, the tiny thrill a new @ reply serves up, the internal jazzle of a really good 3-way, 4-way, or 5-way convo with mutual tweeps.
And yet — I have to notice, and admit to myself, and respect, that my MOST productive days are the days I spend the least time on social media. And the weeks when I feel really, really great are weeks when I’m a little social media-lite.
I can’t do Twitter like I’ve been doing it anymore.
And so — I’m making Twitter an easier place for my brain to be.
This week, I embarked on what will likely be a massive unfollow of Tweeps. I’m radically paring down my Home feed so that I only see the kinds of content I feel drawn to engage with, right now, this week.
If I want something different next week, I’ll add more Tweeps. Or delete a few more.
Yes, I know this is why Twitter lists were invented — so that we could segment who we follow into feeds that make better sense to us. Tried it; ultimately, it’s not the solution I’m looking for. Lists just give me one more schema to layer into my schemata. But maybe Twitter lists are a great solution for you.
In doing this massive unfollow, I’m accepting that :
(A) since I’ve been a really friendly, conversational Tweeter, some people may take offense to my unfollow and (A1) unfollow me back if they see following as a reciprocal deal (it’s okay with me if you want to) or (A2) get offended with me (though I hope a social media unfollow doesn’t bum you out that much), and
(B) as a Connector, this may somewhat compromise my ability to . . . connect. Or not. We’ll see. It’s an experiment.
Someone I like a lot challenged me last year to spend 6 months deepening the business relationships I already have rather than intentionally expanding into new relationships. She also challenged me to stop pretending to be an Extrovert because it’s not good for my Introversion. [Ahem.] I can sense that the time for all this is nigh.
Many of the people I’m unfollowing are friends, friendly acquaintances, peers I respect, and clients. Many of the people I’m unfollowing on Twitter are people I look forward to remaining connected with elsewhere (like here or here). Some of the people I’m unfollowing are people with whom I’ve never exchanged Tweet One.
And that’s all right with me. Reducing some of the connectivity that this digital life affords us sounds like just what my soul is ordering. And I’m choosing to listen to my soul, not to the electronic chirp.
Now true connection (as opposed to connectivity) is something I’m still interested in. Tami and I are designing for true connection over on Google+, where we’ve just opened our Voice Bureau Community. If you’re into thoughtful conversation, not just noise, please consider joining us there.
In the comments, I want to hear:
What about you? What do you do (or what will you do, starting now) when social media bums you out — hampers your flow, harshes your mellow, impedes your process?