You’ll have noticed that I’ve been blogging less and less this year. Although I’ve kept up my weekly Blog Break schedule, my updates here have become pretty much monthly. In fact, when I checked, I found that I hadn’t written a “think piece” like this since April, even though they used to be the weekly bread and butter of my blog.
So what changed? I’d love to say that I’ve been working on an amazing secret project, but mostly I’ve been writing the same kind of stuff as usual: the odd short story, a new 9-12 novel that’s about a third complete. I’m sure that I could fit blogging around my schedule, but I haven’t felt compelled to share my thoughts with the world.
This is the crux of the matter, part of a pattern that has also seen me retreat from my personal Facebook and Twitter accounts. I don’t mind the Blog Break, because it allows me to highlight (and hide behind) other people’s work, but nowadays my only regular tweets are the ones I send to promote it. It’s not like I’ve become a digital hermit, but I am sharing less of myself with the world than I once did.
Why swim against the tide? There isn’t a single reason, but one thing I have become tired of is the constant noise from social media. Everywhere I look on the internet, there are voices clamouring to be heard, and life seems to be boiling down into a competition about who can shout the loudest. Children’s literature has been characterised by one furore after another this year: Sick Lit, Lynne Shepherd laying into JK Rowling, the Bunker Diary winning the Carnegie Medal, the Slate article about adults being embarrassed to read YA and just last week the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory cover debate. In each case, battle lines are drawn and the usual rent-a-gobs of children’s literature wheel out their opinions.
I’ve contributed in a small way to some of those discussions, but I don’t want to be one of those people who can always be relied upon to have an inflammatory opinion when these issues come up. Most of the time, I don’t have a strong reaction and want to read the arguments for and against before I make up my mind. But like quiet books, it seems nowadays that quiet voices don’t get much of a look-in.
It’s true that writing is one activity where retreating from the world has traditionally been encouraged. Authors often talk about disappearing into their “writing cave” to work on the next book, and sometimes disappear from the internet for weeks or months at a time. But I must admit that I’m becoming tired of the treadmill that is writing a book, sending it out, waiting for months to get rejected and then beginning a new book that starts the whole cycle again. I’m not saying that I want to stop writing books and trying to get them published, it’s just that I’d like a bit more balance between the delayed and instant gratification of being a writer.
Oliver Burkeman echoed a lot of my feelings in one of his Guardian articles recently. As well as talking about people who shun the limelight, he introduced the concept of creative “stock and flow”. This idea, devised by novelist Robin Sloan, depicts flow as being our daily output of tweets and updates, while stock is the durable content we create that lasts. Perhaps I’ve been spending a little too much time on my stock to the detriment of my flow in recent months?
This approach echoes what I’ve seen Sarah McIntyre doing on her Livejournal site. Sarah is one of the creative people who I really admire, and I always enjoy it when she discusses her influences or shares her work in progress. This is perhaps more straightforward for an artist to achieve than a writer, but it’s made me realise that there are lots of avenues to get my work out there that I’m not exploring right now. After all, Sarah is also the busiest person in children’s books/comics, so if she can find time to blog regularly, anyone can!
Another creative person I admire is my wife Claire, whose beautiful drawings and paintings seem to attract a lot of oohs and ahhs from her Facebook friends. She’s taken to uploading a photo of each one as she finishes it, and I’m quite jealous of the instant hit of admiration she gets by doing so.
I‘m still planning what form my own creative sharing will take, but one thing I’m adamant about is that I want to achieve it without shouting too loud. So be ready to gather close and listen carefully, because I’m hoping we’ll all learn something.