Posts Tagged: Social Media
Voice is not a commodity but the slow accretion of individual perspective. This is a writer’s most valuable asset… Social media isn’t a distraction from the seriousness of what he’s published. It’s an affirmation of his argument’s importance.
Authors today face a unique situation: the presence of social media fueling society’s profound hunger for transparency and reachability in public figures....more
While many authors have embraced social media and enjoy being available to readers, others feel that their only responsibility to the reader is to write good books. Novelist Joanne Harris sparked this conversation when she suggested a writer’s manifesto for the digital age Monday night at a literature festival in England....more
Alexander Chee writes for LitHub on Elena Ferrante’s pseudonymous, social-media-free existence and the choices other authors have made to dis/engage with social media at points in their careers:
Ferrante’s anonymity is something of a feminist project, also. No one is able to talk about her appearance.
If you’re going to spend so much time on social media, you might as well make art out of it. The Atlantic‘s Olivia Goldhill looks at the inevitable rise of maybe-joke, maybe-for-real Twitter fiction....more
The sound of “pobreza” (poverty) and “filia” (-phile) pushed together could almost sound poetic, if the word didn’t mean having a sexual affinity for poor, young women.
In a new history of the evolution of language, Matthew Battles focuses on humans’ relationship with writing. For Slate, John H. McWhorter argues that Battles’s distinction between the written and spoken word misunderstands how we use the Internet:
Much of the “collective, aphoristic” writing Battles describes would today be termed tweets and posts.
For The Millions, Adam Boffa compares Lydia Davis’s short stories to social media. He argues that Davis’s compressed language, as well as her emphasis on routine and tragedy, works to “recreate a phenomenon that occurs daily on social media”:
Davis’s work, and maybe social media at its best, becomes a sort of celebration of the ordinary, the boring, the totally expected, the regular.
I have heard writers take a stand that they are above Twitter and Instagram, superior for not participating in social media. It’s true the self-promotion feels inauthentic and tacky, but it can be brave to participate in the conversation with good intention.
At the Guardian, Sarah Hughes profiles young adult author Louise O’Neill, whose novels Only Ever Yours and Asking For It have received acclaim for embracing “dark themes” surrounding body image, sex, and social media:
When I wrote Only Ever Yours it was at a time when I was so sick and tired of feeling shame around my body and so weary of fighting the fact that women are seen as less in so many ways.
Reading Literary Twitter is to witness brief, terse glimpses into the writerly psyche, and how insecure and unsure and thin-skinned we tend to be. As writers, we want to be validated. We want to matter. The published stories and poems and essays, the books we sell, the magazines we edit: all this output, this paper expelled out to the world, the screens we invade with our narratives, it all matters to us.
What makes this book an uncomfortable, if distant, cousin of GamerGate and men’s rights activist logic is that it, too, relies on a series of false equivalencies and muddy distinctions in order to elevate being shamed on social media to epic proportions.
The form is far more important than the content. They don’t even really have to match. If you’re talking about an author people are a little less familiar with, you’ll want some black-and-white landscape photography or a 19th century painting, something that screams “CULTURE!” and that you don’t have to think too hard about to enjoy.