I Quit Twitter Cold Turkey

I deactivated my Twitter account on July 1st.

I’m pretty sure I joined in 2007. Today is Wednesday, day five, which is probably the longest I’ve gone without looking at Twitter in over ten years.

It’s been a long time coming. The second issue of this newsletter was about how I felt like the algorithm was poisoning my creativity. Over the past couple of years I tried to ween myself off by hiding the app on my phone and setting up screen time limits. Neither of those tactics was successful. Within a couple of weeks I incorporated the extra swipes into my routine and learned how to quickly disregarded the time limit notification. I didn’t even see them anymore, they just became part of the protocols for getting to my drug of choice.

I’ve always known it was an addiction but it was even more apparent when it took me three tries to deactivate. I went through “denial” and “bargaining” phases before I pulled the window up the third time and hit the button as fast as I could, like jumping into a pool of ice cold water.

I wanted to quit long before Elon bought it but it’s gotten so much worse since he took over. I don’t have anything against Twitter Blue. I have plenty of friends who decided it’s worth the money, or at least worth the experiment. I wasn’t interested in paying for something I had been getting for free all this time. But one of the perks you get for your $8 is priority status in the replies, which has ruined the experience of going to read the replies for additional context, especially on any topic that is even remotely partisan or controversial.

Then, Saturday morning, he limited the tweets that non-subscribers could see to 600, while limiting the tweets that subscribers could see to 6,000. He claimed it was to combat data scraping. I don’t know what that is, or if it’s bad and why, it just seemed like a grift. That was the moment I decided to go for it.

I haven’t consciously missed it even for a minute since then. But I was so conditioned to logging on the moment by attention wandered that even as of this morning, day five, I still moved my laptop cursor up to the bookmark bar where it used to be on Safari. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I didn’t think, “I want to see what’s happening over on Twitter.” It was a purely compulsive act.

Another withdrawal symptom was catching myself composing tweets in my head. Last night, I was sitting in the dark in the living room watching THE BEAR while Ellie hunkered down next to me to ride out the four straight hours of giant boomies that made La Crescenta sound like a war zone. I had the urge to share that moment and talk about how Will Poulter is perfect in this role. A couple of hours later I stood on the corner and heard packs of coyotes howling in the foothills and culverts around the neighborhood. I had the urge to tweet about that. This morning I would have probably tweeted something about the shitty air quality.

A few people have asked if I’m planning to join Blue Sky, or a similar platform. As much as I love connecting with people online I’m not sure it’s worth getting hooked on another delivery device so that I can complain about fireworks every July 4th.

By the way, no judgment if Twitter still works for you. I have a lot of friends who rely on it to get information out about various projects or their work as activists. This is not a call to action for other people to deactivate. You may genuinely enjoy it or accept it as a necessary evil. I’m sharing this here because I’m curious about how it’s going to impact my creative process over the next few months. It may not be a big change. Or it may be a significant rewiring. Either way, I’ll let you know.

If you ARE thinking about deactivating and have questions, let me know. You can always message me via this newsletter, or drop me an email: mickeyfisher2012@gmail.com

So, what did I do with that extra time I spent on Twitter?

I was inspired by Nikita Andester’s recent issue of Snail Mail Sweethearts Substack where she used a prompt to write a piece of fiction tiny enough to fit on a postcard. I went into the office and found a stack of postcards I bought at a retro sci-fi art show in Pasadena a few years ago. I ended up not following the prompt but I was inspired by the sci-fi cards to write a short piece in my favorite sub-genre, space mixed with the seemingly supernatural.

After I wrote the first one I copied it five more times, making small edits each time. I was inspired by a story I read about a kid who wrote his own book in a notebook at home, then snuck it onto a shelf in the local library. When the library found out they gave him an official spot. Word spread and pretty soon there was a months long waiting list to borrow this one of a kind handmade book. I decided to drop a couple of these into the Little Free Libraries in the parks where Ellie and I take our walks.

Here’s the full text of the story, with one small tweak:

Sarah,

Here’s what I couldn’t tell you in front of them.

There were four of us on rotation up there. We had a running joke, whenever somebody made a mistake or a piece of equipment broke down, we’d say, “Gordon did it.” It was a joke, something stupid to pass the time.

I don’t know who or what they have in that containment pod but it’s not Gordon. Gordon doesn’t exist. We made him up.

The first draft is what you see on the postcard. After I finished I wished I’d swapped the last two lines, I just like it a little better.

It’s not a great story and my handwriting is nearly illegible, but if one person finds one of these postcards and it makes them smile, it was worth the effort. Many issues ago I wrote about the joy of finding little art everywhere. I spend so much time writing scripts and coming up with ideas that I hope will reach millions of people. It was so freeing to just write a story for a handful of people, or maybe even one person. I’m kind of hooked on this postcard fiction idea now. I kind of want to make it a regular practice to dig up random postcards and let them trigger the idea.

Try it for yourself, and check out Nikita's Substack!

I made an Instagram Reel to memorialize the process, you can see it here!

I also spent time this week working on the novel that I abandoned, then picked back up, then abandoned a second time. I went back to it this week because I came across this article about the rise in popularity of short books and how novellas are basically being marketed as novels these days.

I gave up on The Kick-Out at the 25,000 word mark. Part of the reason that I quit was I felt it lacked substance. I wanted it to be a quick, fun read, but by the time I got to the 25k word mark I just didn’t feel like that was enough to keep me going. It felt a little silly, maybe even trivial, that it wasn’t going to offer enough to a reader.

The article talks about how much people are enjoying burning through 200 page books that you can read or listen to in about four hours. The shorter page count wasn’t what was exciting to me, it was more about the fast-paced experience that readers were enjoying.

All of a sudden my little crime fiction love letter to pizza, pinball, and Los Angeles didn’t seem so silly or trivial anymore. If I can keep myself entertained for 200 pages maybe I can keep somebody else entertained as well.

I think it will come in right around 40k words. I gave myself a deadline to finish: August 6th, the day before my 50th birthday. 10 years ago, I turned 40 on the day we closed the deals for EXTANT and spent much of the last ten years working as a TV writer. If I can wake up on my 50th birthday and call myself a novelist maybe I’ll open up some new and exciting opportunities for the next ten years…

Fellow WGA members, I’m sending you love and light as we close out week 10. I want to get back to work as soon as possible but until then, I love running into you on the picket lines. I still love seeing old friends and making new ones. I continue to draw strength from seeing this community in action and seeing how we take care of each other out there. Stay strong, stay hydrated.

Until next week!