Facebook may indeed be the devil or at least it may be for writers.
Stop me if this sounds like something that’s happened to you:
You sit down at your computer and all you want to do is write. All these wonderful ideas in the back of your head just want to get out and you are raring to go. Then comes the little ping: you get a Facebook update. You say “I’m just going to check it for two seconds.” Half an hour later you’re looking at some silly video of foxes jumping on a trampoline, giggling your head off having completely forgotten that you had a deadline. Hell you may have forgotten your own damn name because, well, they’re foxes and they’re adorable.
That is what Facebook is for. It tells us all about the world according to Jim, Bob and Sue but keeps you from reaching the inner worlds you can create. I am a notorious Facebook camper. When I take a break from writing, I can usually be found making snarky comments about geek-related nonsense on Twitter or posting ‘artistic’ pictures on Instagram like the hipster I pretend not to be morphing into. But mostly I can be found on Facebook catching up with folk or just posting every random piece of weirdness that skims my brain. Oh yeah and videos of cute animals. There’s like a law about those being mandatory.
But then I try to get back to writing and sometimes, all I can think about is the Facebook stuff. I’m so distracted by the poke wars, the liking, the pseudo-political arguments and the kittens being adorable. And then how can I get literary? The answer is I can’t.
So here’s to Facebook eating my productivity. I will be making an effort to block my Internet- something author Joe Hill mentioned on Twitter today- so it doesn’t distract. And my phone will go away from me. To quote a friend of mine’s play, I am of the generation that seems to have their phone surgically attached to their hand. I will go into the writer trance and have to answer some messages. Worse things could happen.
Like not finishing my damn novel.