Computers. The Internet. Other people.
My life would be far calmer without them.
So I’m writing this novel and it’s going pretty well, but it’s 2015 and I need an ‘online presence’.
Branding. Marketing. Networking. A mantra for dead-eyed, overpaid consultants who insinuate that without these things you’re living in the Stone Age.
‘Join us or die’, they hiss from their Ikea-strewn workspaces above the no-man’s-land where Shoredtich becomes The City.
But maybe the plaid-shirted, Hi-Topped cultural vampires have a point this time. And I won’t lie, I would quite like people to read my novel. Even a person. Singular.
That’s why I set up all these bastard accounts…
I’m okay at Twitter, although if my phone had a breathalyser app, I might have retained a few more followers. I get drunk and I swear and then maybe I’ll write something about how I think Game Of Thrones is boring and then the Internet will come crashing down on top of me and I will be forever struck out into the Wastelands with the rest of the unbelievers and their two-digit follower counts. The next morning, of course, I delete the tweet in the half-light of hangover shame, but by then the damage is done.
I think I’d be a hell of a lot better at Instagram if I looked good in a bikini. There are only so many photographs of books one can post.
Facebook. Well it’s just for stalking, isn’t it? I don’t want to be friends with that borderline racist asshole from school who still, at 35 years old, hasn’t got the hang of ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, but I damn well know that moment I defriend the fucker, I’ll bump into him on the street and it will be awkward. And the one thing an Englishman fears most in the world is awkwardness.
Pinterest. I kind of like the idea. It’s for referencing things. Am I right? Please tell me I’m right. Building collections for future inspiration. I can get into that. Useful. I add pictures to it. Will I ever look at those pictures? Probably not.
I don’t even know what Google+ is.
As the sun hung sweetly in a cloudless London sky, I spent the weekend hunched over my Mac, curtains closed.
Social Media was one thing, but then I decided my blog needed a revamp. After six hours in virtual labour, I gave birth to the new child you see before you. Treat her kindly.
And now I can write. No other distractions. The blog looks respectable, the cogs of Social Media are grinding away. I am complete.
After that, I was left with no more excuses…
So I printed out my First Draft.
Here it is.
The rest of the week will be spent gathering coffee stains on my shirts, red pen marks on my hands and swearing quietly under my breath.