Maybe Instagram has made my writing worse
I occasionally have the rare — and riveting — experience of reading a piece I wrote years ago and thinking to myself this is good. I wrote this? I can write, actually.
More often I have the uncomfortable experience of reading a published article and cringing that it has my name attached to it. What was I doing? What is this sentence structure (or lack thereof)? Who thought up these points, only barely half formed, and then turned them into paragraphs, equally poorly constructed?
I hate to admit this has been happening with increasing frequency.
Spending so much time on social media has, I think, made my writing worse.
The bulk of my writing since 2020 has been “content” meant to be consumed on a screen controlled by a thumb. Now that I’m taking a break from the social media space — I deleted all not-absolutely-necessary-for-daily-functioning apps from my phone just over a month ago — I’ve been reading more essays and memoirs and novels. I’ve been surrounding myself with the kind of reflection I crave in the kind of literature I love.
And the reality seems clear: Social media has not been the most productive place for me to make my own contributions.
I already have a sense that these thoughts might be controversial. Exposure to so many other voices online can be a wonderful thing! I’ve been specifically inspired by the community I’m part of on Instagram.
But the style of writing I love best has suffered from my worry about character limits… and quick scrollers making even quicker assumptions… and (despite what has felt like my best efforts to the contrary) a few key vanity metrics.
It’s not that I want to write exactly like Joan Didion or David Sedaris or CJ Hauser or any of the other authors whose words have made me feel so much these recent weeks. No, I want to write like me — but the best version of me. Not the one overthinking Dogstagram and parasocial politics and whether my message is measured enough that the keyboard mob will spare me this go around. (They don’t always.)
The best parts of my time on social media have been the connections with fellow dog lovers, especially new or overwhelmed owners who are struggling with a companion they didn’t quite expect. People who get it, get us, get life with Scout in a way that not even Sean fully comprehends. I can’t imagine giving up those opportunities for looking out of my eyes right into someone else’s.
The worst parts of my time on social media have been the fear of my audience (Verlyn Klinkenborg’s Several Short Sentences About Writing almost brought me to tears with this realization) and the pressure, sometimes so subtle I could convince myself it wasn’t really there, to do things in a certain way.
Even if my screen time was only two hours on average before sorta-quitting Instagram, I’d inevitably scroll past a few dozen (okay, yeah, a few hundred) posts from other dog owners and other van lifers. A small but snarky voice would either wonder if I was doing it wrong… or feel frustrated at what felt like shallow sharing on the part of these other creators, mindless content turned out over and over, almost the same just posted from different sources, yet somehow beloved by The Almighty Algorithm and people everywhere turning to their phones for distraction.
Where was the nuance? Where was the spectrum of emotion, not just the outrage or highlight reel or shock factor for a grippy headline?
I convinced myself I was doing my best to bring those things to the space. (I actually do still believe this.) I think there is room for deeper discussion on social media, not to mention value in many kinds and levels of sharing that hit people in different ways.
But the things I am most excited to write — the conversations I am most excited to entertain, in good faith — are not routinely being nurtured by a photo sharing application downloaded to millions of smartphones for entertainment more than anything.
Accepting this has been a good first step in what I hope is an ongoing evaluation of where I’m investing my heart.
I don’t plan on leaving social media. There will be no deactivation, no great departure, no manifesto on its perils. (I’m sorry to disappoint. )
I do plan on using Instagram more thoughtfully. I’m dedicating space in my day for nothing but long-form writing — offline mode, no distractions, a somewhat haphazard but functioning ergonomic setup in our van’s kitchen at the behest of my physical therapist — and batching smaller bursts of internet connection around reading, exercising, and giving my attention fully to Scout and Sean.
An unexpected (but not unwelcome) side effect is that, several weeks into my minimal scrolling, I’m actually more excited about sharing and consuming certain things on Paws and Reflect than I was before. Taking a step back from the day-to-day rhythm has given me space to understand what parts of Instagram I truly love — and time to plan how I can embrace the joys I want without letting in the minutiae I don’t.