Thoughts on Twitter copywriters and the l33terati
Tomorrow Museum presents an intriguing argument about my generation’s lack “of authors whose love of writing was born from years of geekery, starting in chat rooms and message board,” which jomc dubs the “l33terati” (clever term!), and puts forth a few reasons why such a literary movement hasn’t taken place.
The latter half of the essay then moves into a theory about how this generation would make great Twitter-length copywriters that find a blend of fiction and fact matching the attention spans of our generation and our nature of crafting an online persona. It’s a compelling idea, but I want to get back to the first question of why this l33terati never developed (or has yet to).
It’d be tempting to blame it on the shortened attention span of our generation or the death of print (especially the consumption of literature that isn’t Harry Potter or Twilight), but I think that’s too easy of a target and would largely scrape the surface without finding the foundation.
It’s obvious to say a generalizing statement like, “kids don’t read anymore,” but I think you have to think about why that is — because of the attention economy.
But before the Internet, books consumed my life. I loved to read and it remained one of my core joys and hobbies in life until the Internet occupied my attention. In my school’s reading program, I excelled in a reading competition called Accelerated Reader (hopefully I’m not the only one that remembers this?) and you couldn’t pull me away from my books. Not being very skilled at athletics, I got a sense of adventure and fun elsewhere in the realm of fictional characters and their stories. This went on for a while, until I had access to the computer lab at my mom’s school library for hours after school.
Growing up, I had the unique experience of my generation to watch as the Internet exploded from something only a few computers in a building could access to nearly every home and every computer in the house. I remember the transition from dial-up to broadband. And in college I lived the glutton life of peer-to-peer consumption of all things digital.
All throughout middle school and high school I didn’t read anywhere near the volume of books I did in elementary school. I just wasn’t interested. And while my college years had a few moments of diving into post-modern minimalism (ie: Chuck Palahniuk), I read maybe a dozen books at most. Even now, I don’t read more than half a dozen books a year (and I haven’t been that big on fiction lately).
I don’t think it’s fair to say the introduction of the Internet provided me with one more generational distraction. That’s a huge understatement. The Internet provided my generation with an infinitely expanding distraction that probably gutted one’s path of jumping onto a literary movement.
Consuming the Internet is one thing. It’s another thing to be able to participate in its creation. And then use it to supplement your communication with friends. And share media. And play networked games.
At the end of the day, your life becomes consumed by a culture that’s managed to meld everything together into a seamless experience that places you in front of a screen and machine that incorporates all other media EXCEPT literature.
Long blocks of text never really went over well online. Yes, we read a lot of things online, but there’s something psychologically impossible about reading a whole novel on even the most beautiful of screens, let alone CRTs. And to read a book would mean unplugging one’s focus on the magic box that gave him everything else. Giving up literature seemed like a no-brainer decision that came with minimal sacrifice.
Maybe the reason “l33terati” never happened is all the geek writers value tl, dr above everything else.
Indeed, “too long, didn’t read” exists, but the reason why that attitude came to be roots itself in the simple reason of one’s limited amount of attention. If one’s attention is finite, then it made sense to shift that attention to a place where multiple things happened at once, rather than literature which is quite singular.
Before our generation, the growth of media and distractions could almost be linear. We had print. Then radio. Then TV. But the Internet isn’t linear. While you could only read one thing, listen to one thing, watch one thing, the Internet’s nature of what it could offer wasn’t singular — it is many and exponential.
Something had to get squeezed, and indeed many things did. The lack of a literary movement might very well be one of them.
But, I don’t think that it’s a foregone conclusion or will never happen. It still could, but it’s going to take a unique group of individuals to make extraordinary counter-culture decisions with their lives to refocus on crafting literature.
This means unplugging. It means the end of pointless clicking. It means shutting out distractions and not chasing more followers or web traffic. It will mean filtering what gets in and resisting one’s output to just literature exercises.
I think this l33terati, should it exist, has a grasp of the unique world we’ve witnessed and doesn’t need to play with the rest of the kids anymore. It’s time to make intelligent observations about it and discuss what happened to all of us as a generation.