Circa August 2020, my love/hate relationship with social media (mainly Instagram) started to deepen. I already had my reservations about interacting too much on the platform before the COVID-19 pandemic hit and drove many (of the connections in my peripherals) to suddenly DM for the sake of DM-ing. To perhaps feed the need for any form of connection. The tick to do something, anything, with their hands. The false sense of urgency, availability and the assumption that once once message is marked as “seen” or “read” is indication that you must reply. Because, if you’ve read it that means you’re already online; and after all, why not just reply, it’ll only take a minute, right?

Well, to riff off the ideas of Cal Newport (computer science professor and author of Deep Work) that “Just a minute” you’re telling yourself (and a false perception of the time you’ll actually take to carry out a task e.g. reply that email) will not only eat into your work but prevents us from doing deep work. For instance, if you’re working on a math equation and suddenly got interrupted by a phone call/someone yelling out at you/tapping you on the shoulder, you likely have to start from the beginning and it might take an even longer time to retrace your steps. Same thing with cross-editing an article or any form of creative work.

Cal’s concept of deep work is what I understand as the most important state that many of us creatives want to be in: flow.

To paraphrase what Seth Godin said in one of his many podcast interviews: we get into the flow from doing the work. We don’t wait for the flow then do the work. We start by doing the work.

. . .

As skeptical as I was (and still am) with YouTube’s algorithm of switching from only showing me videos that of views of a least least a six figures to suddenly suggesting videos with less than 2K views, a pleasant surprise came through from an illustrator named Holly Exley:

As a solopreneur, independent writer and publisher, the title appealed to my confirmation bias and desire to leave the social media platform.

Two videos from Holly’s vault was enough to hear the articulation of my current feelings with Instagram.

On a personal level, the platform was initially a photo album of memories of myself, and of friends I wanted to stay in touch with (or at least I thought I was, but this false sense of voyeuristic connection is an entirely different discussion that I don’t need to get into right now).

Then, as Holly pointed out, or rather reminded (because the changes were happening so subtly and frequently that when it became overt, it was almost a given; an “Oh, that’s just how the system works now,” response): the disruption of the timeline and missing out on posts from people after the algorithm favoured posts that had gained more interaction (comments, likes). Soon, they’d be pushed further down by sponsored posts from accounts that I don’t even follow. Then, there was the demand of the platform that rewards you for partaking in their “new” features: Reels, Stories, etc. Take a hiatus or a digital detox from the platform for a two months and come back to a severe drop in engagement.

While I may be on Instagram for the time being, plugging the latest issue of Plates (Vol.4: Seeds), an independent print publication that uses food to begin conversations surrounding unpalatable issues, I’m aiming to eventually move off the platform entirely. For now, I have a weekly newsletter on Substack for work. But this blog here, an on/off plan, one that I’ve been meaning to start at several stages of my life, will be a vault of thoughts and a form of discipline to write daily–for myself.