Cold Turkey

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By Elaine Viets

 

Don and I have had no phones or Internet since last Thursday. We live in a mandatory evacuation area in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. When we were ordered to leave our condo at noon, Thursday, Sept. 7th, we packed up the cats and headed for our friend Anne’s house in Boynton Beach to ride out the hurricane. Irma was coming and she was mean. We didn’t know if we’d see our condo again.

It was a week before we could go home. We had electricity, but no Internet and no phones. We still don’t.

It may be the best thing that ever happened to me.

My agent wanted me to write a short story, and write it fast.

“Do you have any ideas?” he asked.

A couple. He nixed the idea that involved cute animals. “I think your heart is really on the dark side,” he said.

So I told him about an idea flitting around in my head. You know what I mean. It’s in your brain like a mosquito in your bedroom late at night. You can hear its annoying whine, but you can’t get rid of it. The only way to make it go away is to turn it into a story.

My agent liked the idea: a conversation I’d had with a man in a bank line several years ago – yes, it had been buzzing around that long.

I knew the story’s main characters. I had an idea for the opening. But what did I do after that?

I hadn’t the foggiest. I didn’t know where to take the idea. I had no plot. I had no ending. But it was time to get it out of my head.

“How quickly can you write that story?” he asked.

“Three weeks,” I said. That was fast, since I hadn’t written one word.

I started writing the story three days ago and it’s almost finished.

Why?

No Internet and no phones.

I discovered I’m an Internet addict. I’d get so far in my writing and then, when I got to a difficult part – when I needed to start a new scene or describe a character – I’d automatically go online to answer a question for my story: How do you spell Keurig? What are some names for the Devil?

Except I’d get distracted by the political news. A cute cat video. Click bait about a movie star who was big in 1975. A video tour of a tiny house. An unsolved murder from 1898.

You get the idea. It would be a half hour or more before I got back to my writing. My train of thought had been derailed. I’d write for a bit, but with less enthusiasm. Then another question would come up, and I’d be back on the Net. And I’d post on Facebook, tweet, and answer my e-mail. That took more time. Then I’d see a fascinating video about the 90-year-old sweethearts reunited after 50 years. Their great-granddaughter was the maid of honor . . .

Now I can’t do that. I still have the urge to run to the Internet when I have a question. My fingers itch to hit that browser button. They actually twitch when I see the Firefox icon. Then I realize I don’t have the Internet.

Instead I take a break, have a cup of tea, walk around the house – and the idea comes to me. Suddenly, I can see the next scene. That character is standing in front of me and I can describe him. Or I didn’t paint myself into a corner after all. I know how I can solve the problem. And damn, that opening, the one I’ve cherished for two years, is dull. I need to tear it up and rewrite it.

Writing is faster and easier without the Internet.

The AT&T repair person will be here Friday morning to restore our phones and get us back on the Internet.

I hope I can stand the itching and twitching of withdrawal, and not get caught in the Net again.

Note: I finished the short story, “The Deal,” two days later, and sent it to my agent. At last, it was out of my head. Our condo is livable, but damaged: Don’s bathroom ceiling collapsed and water damaged one wall and our bedroom ceiling. Compared to how Irma pounded the Caribbean, we are lucky. We got phones and Internet Friday, September 15, and well, I went on the Net again. Just to check my email. I swore I’d be strong, and stay away the distractions, but I had to find out what was going on in our country. And if Bo Derek still looks good now. And how to clean my house using all-natural ingredients. I’m supposed to finish a manuscript, but there’s this story about two women who tried to take selfies with a freaking elk. My name is Elaine and I am an addict . . .

 

 

21 thoughts on “Cold Turkey”

  1. I’m sorry for the storm damage but glad you got an internet break. I don’t think there is anyone not affected by tech addiction. I don’t consider myself anywhere near as tech obsessed as some (i.e. I can easily live the day without my phone in my hand, staring at its screen constantly) but I am addicted to the internet. When I’m home and the computer is on (which is nearly all the time) my internet is there either fired up or waiting to be fired up if I suddenly need to look up some little rabbit trail I decided to follow on the spur of the moment.

    We could all use more internet holidays.

  2. I didn’t realize how serious my addiction was until after the storm, BK. Last night, at 11:30, I was watching Mick Jagger sign “Sympathy for the Devil.” I can’t help myself.

  3. I looked and looked to try to find you help, but, alas, the best Siri could come up with was that there is no 12-step program for Internet addiction. This is the best I could find: “There is nothing in the 12 Step world to prevent you from starting your own, all you need is another internet addict to work with and you may call yourself a meeting. (See the AA traditions, long form). I’m thinking this isn’t a good idea for you. Instead, drink more wine and watch the waves!

  4. Yikes, so sorry about the hurricane and all the damage to your beautiful state. Haha, I can relate to twitching fingers and urges and OMGosh am I cleaning my bathroom properly? Sometimes I have to turn off everything for awhile and just . . . breathe.

  5. My writing group imposes a cellphone ban for the two hours we meet. At first, some people can fidgety and kept wanting to hold their phones like a baby and her pacifier. Now, we have adapted and we actually look at each other when we talk. We survived, but wine helped.

    • Glad you had a group with will power, Jan. I gave a talk to a church group this morning and throughout the 20 minutes talk I heard the beep and chime of cell phones. They did buy books, bless them.

  6. I actually have done good in this regard. I set aside a certain amount of time to the internet and then I shut down. I do split it up to twice a day so I can keep up on news and social media, but that’s it.

    Other things interfere with my writing time. I am a neat freak and get easily distracted by cleaning frenzies, or trying a different room arrangement, or the worst for me, exploring new cover designs… Sigh. We all have our weak points.

  8. Welcome back! Internet stuff is seductive. I once had a timer set on my computer to remind me to get up and move every hour. That particular app slowed down my old iBook, not sure why, but I should find a replacement. In fact, it should be standard.
    The selfie-takers at Lone Elk Park must have thought the “keep your distance” warning signs didn’t apply to them . . . Darwin Award material.
    I sometimes put ** by stuff I need to look up so I can keep the free writing flow. I used to circle problem areas, but writing on the computer makes circles too difficult.

  10. I’m pretty good about staying off the internet for a while, but it’s books that get me. I just keep cracking open books–right now what’s getting me are writing books–and tell myself that I am working. I’m learning, that counts, right?

  11. Uh, I use that excuse, too, especially when I’m on deadline. Finally, I have to tell myself, “If you miss this deadline, you’ll have LOTS of time to read.” That usually gets me back to work.

  12. I read somewhere that Jonathan Franzen installed an app in his computer that blocks all social media. The only thing that works for me is going to a cafe or coffee place. Yes, they have wifi but ever since I got hacked in a hotel I am too afraid to sign on.

  14. Glad to hear (see?) you survived Irmageddon~ I have some cousins who rode across from the west coast near Ft. Meyers to the east coast near Boca to ride it out, and one who stayed on Key Largo (successfully).

    I’ve found myself able to put the hand-held down since every time my bride looks up from hers she says something about my nose being on my screen~ (and she used to say it was buried in a book)
    🙂

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