By Barbara Neal Varma //
I have a love-hate relationship with social media.
I love posting my latest stories and getting all the “likes” and cozy comments, of course I do. But I hate how it steals my time and attention away from writing.
Take those Bernie Sanders mittens—please. Just when I thought their 15 minutes of e-fame was up, a ridiculously cute giant panda at the National Zoo slides down a snow-covered hill and straight into my easily distracted heart.
Not long after, a filter malfunction transformed a lawyer into a kitten on Zoom, and poof! More time gone while I’m sharing the “I’m not a cat” video across the Net. When I finally drag my gaze back to the page, my train of thought has left the station, costing me precious minutes to try and catch it.
And don’t even get me started about the internet’s privacy issues. Recently, I was working on a new humor essay about beauty maintenance in the time of COVID and wrote, “It’s nice not to worry about wearing tummy-tuckers and other Spanx gear during a pandemic.” Next thing I know, a Spanx shapewear ad shows up on my Facebook news feed.
Coincidence? I think not. But get this—I typed that Spanx sentence while offline. It’s true, just me, myself, and Word. Obviously those all-seeing algorithms I keep hearing about can hook up with anything with an electric heartbeat, including my laptop, and since we have a Smart TV in the bedroom, I find that more than a little disconcerting.
No surprise, then, that when I hear writers should maintain an online marketing platform, I get a little cranky-pants. I mean, how am I supposed to use social media to display my work when said social media takes time away from the very writing I’m supposed to promote?
I knew I had to get a grip, set some boundaries if this online relationship was ever going to work. So now I use a timer to limit my social media time. I don’t dive in until my morning writing is done. And I try not to open my Twitter or Facebook accounts until a strict 30 minutes before I’m supposed to be somewhere or do something important, like Jazzercise, thereby rendering a hard stop.
I also recently downloaded an app that promises to block me from accessing the internet and all its distraction dragons for a length of time of my choosing. I’m hopeful that once I figure out how to use it without locking myself off the grid for all of 2021, it’ll be a big help.
Meantime, I don’t know if that Spanx advert was mere coincidence or the rise of the machines but I’m taking no chances. From now on, I’m going to add baited phrases into my first drafts that I can easily pluck out later. Sweet subliminals like, “Barbara Varma’s writing is better than chocolate.”
Of course, I’ll probably start seeing a whole bunch of pop-up ads featuring See’s Candies or Godiva goodies, my fav.
Sigh. Looks like I might need those Spanx shapers, after all.
BARBARA NEAL VARMA is a contributing writer to Orange Coast Magazine and has appeared in other notable publications, including The Atlantic. Her easy-humor personal essays have proven popular with readers, one gaining numerous hits on Orange Coast Magazine‘s website. (Hello: Desperately Seeking Donny.) You can learn more at BarbaraNealVarma.com.
I love this, Barbara! And boy, do I agree about the privacy bit. After topics of phone conversations started leading to Facebook ads, I have begun mentioning rainbow unicorns and purple rhinoceroses. Waiting to see what pops up now! Bonus: My sons think it’s more entertaining than ever to call their mom.
LOL, thanks, Beth, and I am sooo going to copy your unicorns and rhinos strategy and will report back on any strange looking Amazon boxes Michael and I receive. 😀
This is all so true, relatable every word of it! Thank you for the tips on privacy – unicorn it is!