Whinge wins over writer’s block
PANIC stirs as your eyes lock onto the vast, white, empty space in front of you.
It spreads coldly into what should be a great sparkle of lit-up, enthusiastic, energised, ready-to-go flashes.
Instead, there’s silent darkness. The kind Eskom makes. Fear prickles all the way down to numb, hovering fingertips as the clock ticks. One or two neurons stir, laugh at your stupid mini-thought, and turn over to cuddle the one sleeping next to it. Blackness wins out.
It’s rather alarming, and can happen to anyone, at any time.
Whether it’s writing a test or exam, a book or a blog, an email to friend or foe, a report or a random column, it’s unnerving. Writer’s Block.
On the couch, we have so many debates, discussions and opinions to share that the Block seldom visits. Regular readers know the couch is a curious beast and generates much scientific research, a lot of it overseen by Professor Google or what used to be Twitter.
The Prof is a valued (but carefully evaluated) colleague, unlike the $44-billion bird that has been maimed, slaughtered, gutted, plucked and soon to be buried by an egotistical, narcissistic, shameless, lying, right-wing wingnut (boss, please may I use a string of *^$#@&* here? And I hope you don’t get sued. But if you do, I can provide proof from accredited sources).
It is just vile now. If you want to see what has been posted by special people you love to follow, you save searches and update those. Same with news outlets/commentators you have learnt to trust.
You never just refresh the feed and skim, unless you want to wade into the world’s sewage hellscape. You’ll see “BREAKING:”, check the time and see it was posted hours and, sometimes, days before.
There are posts with “alternative facts”, threats of violence, outrageous lies and sundry other rubbish.
There are also the jaw-dropping posts from the Man Who Murdered Twitter to avoid. Or read in a kind of macabre need to watch the Tesla in flames.
There is also a new algorithm that feeds you what it decides you should see, overruling your desire to start at the top with the latest stuff and choose what you’d like to read from there.
Abandoning the excellent and mostly observed advice I was given by respected career mentors and friends about not putting anything on paper (or online) when you’re very angry, I tweeted my outrage into the ether. No cussing, but with a blunt proposal on where to shove their new algorithm. It clearly failed to reach its target.
Last week, I did a search for a famous politician, guessing at what should have been an obvious hashtag, to see what was going on because there were “rumours”. The second post in the feed (which had used the obvious hashtag) was a full-on, no-holds-barred, hardcore porn video (not involving the politician at all).
Hashtag hijackers are infesting the dying bird. Blocking is more simple to overcome that Writer’s Block, but would mean blocking just about everything the revolutionary algorithm has chosen for you.
Feral Facebook has been ditched and Twisted Twitter is on the way out. Block.