As a debut author last year, I embraced the internet and all that it offered in terms of promotion, connecting to readers and colleagues. All those online interviews, blog posts, Facebook interactions, Twitter—all those things to get the word out about my novel—I did with gusto. In addition, I joined a few, private FB groups, where we shared information about our crazy publishing business—stuff that was affecting us all—good and bad.
This knowledge exchange and cross promotion was thrilling. It felt important and valuable, until it hit me that something insidious was happening. Over the year, I didn’t realize how many hours I was spending on Facebook, until my internal safety net, the one that filters TMI (too much information), had torn open. I plunged into a flood of data, bobbing and spinning down a scary, invisible current.
What strange, webby waters had I entered? What blurry ocean of online-ness?
I can only speak for my own experience, but my inner balance had tipped. My excessive online time had reached a point of disturbing my sleep, my rest, my sense of solitude. I’d toppled into a psychic whirlpool—one of my own making.
On walks around the city, which I do daily, my mind became entangled with other people’s Facebook posts and pictures. Random worries began to invade my thinking. If you’re a worrier like me, you’ll understand how this sucks holes in your brain. My psychic body was leaking, sinking, dragged down by www.overstimulation dot net.
Recently, I got stuck in an airport when my plane to Arizona was grounded due to a March snow storm. Luckily, I ran into two authors I knew—also bound for AZ (for the wonderful Tucson Festival of the Book). Together, we waited for our rescheduled flights. Over lunch, we talked about our favorite subjects: writing and books. Halfway through my salad, my friend said: “If you’re spending more than 30 minutes on Facebook every day, that’s too much. You should be spending that time writing your next book.”
A measly thirty minutes of Facebook every day? I was logging in way more than that. I felt ashamed of myself. Did I have a problem? Was I an addict? Clearly, my friend’s comment hit a nerve.
Since then, I’ve given this some thought and I’ve concluded that some of us can stay online at will, write new books and produce new work without feeling this data drain that I’ve experienced. But, some of us (i.e.—me ) need to unplug regularly and often. If I don’t step away from scrolling, linking and clicking, my energy begins to thin—a kind of mental osteoporosis (that, thankfully, begins to reverse itself when I take time off-line).
I’m going to try that 30-minute rule and see how I do. What about you? Do you get web fatigue? Or, are you unaffected by it? What strategies do you take to keep your balance?
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Jessica Keener’s debut novel, Night Swim, recently landed back in the top #150 on Amazon’s paid bestseller list, and in the #1 spot in the Jewish Lit category. She is working on several new projects and hopes you will “like” her new FB author page to stay in touch as she continues to post pictures of clouds, trees, skies, flowers, books, Boston, New England, food (for up to or approx.. 30 minutes throughout the day, but who’s counting?).
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