On Twitter: Does the uncaged bird have anything to say?

illustration by Autumn Bliss

As antithetical as it might seem (I’ve been a Facebook holdout for years now), I decided to register to Twitter–when encouraged to as part of one of my publishing courses. My registration wasn’t mandatory for the class (I am not being graded on the pithiness of my tweets), but I felt I needed to educate myself because, quite frankly, I did not understand the purpose or functionality of Twitter.

Upon signing up and signing in, my first thoughts were along existential lines, ranging from “Why am I here?” to “Thank God I can delete this account.” In looking around, I realized that there really isn’t that much to look at—just an empty box, a pulsing cursor, and the strangely unsettling question, “What are you doing?” Had I been both honest and forthcoming at that moment, I would have answered, “Trying to understand an alien race.”

But the moment passed, as it always does, which is part of my problem with Twitter. It feels faddish, so of-the-moment that any utterance is already irrelevant (if it ever was relevant to begin with) by the time it’s loaded on the page. My guess is that few people would care that I just finished folding my laundry, and that even fewer would care two hours or three days from now. But unless you go so far as to delete a tweet you’ve posted, it remains on public display as a permanent reminder of how momentous (or not) your life has been. It seems like an odd concept, but Twitter is essentially a public (though one can opt for a level of privacy) forum that encourages users to perpetually share and collect status updates like so many playing cards.

While I am not yet inclined to share my life with the Twitter world, I can see how it could function as a useful marketing and/or promotional vehicle. This may explain why it has been catching on with celebrities. In testing the Twitter waters, I have come across the likes of Steve Buscemi, Yoko Ono, and even Willie Nelson. For those already in the public spotlight, it certainly makes sense. Twitter allows them to communicate practical information to fans (e.g. Willie Nelson had to cancel his upcoming tour due to illness); relay links regarding projects they’ve completed (e.g. Yoko Ono sent a video link to her Stanford Lecture); and accentuate their public personae (e.g. Steve Buscemi’s tweets often involve irreverent humour and profanity).

And if Twitter is useful for celebrities, I would hazard to say that it is essential for those in the magazine publishing industry. Since magazines are in the business of communications, and building/maintaining a readership, it is important that they use the proper channels both to reach and engage their audience. And if that audience is using Twitter, they need to have a presence there, too. The challenge, though, from what I can tell, is in knowing how best to use it.

For example: I had chosen to “follow” Eye Weekly—a publication I read regularly in print—but, after a few days of receiving useless and somewhat opaque updates, I removed them from my Twitter page. What was the problem? Well, for one they used a lot of informal slang and cryptic abbreviations in these tweets, making the messages appear (to these eyes, anyway) as strange, impenetrable puzzles. This violates rule number five (“Speak clearly”) on Harry McCracken’s list of Twitter tips. Unless you are purposefully attempting to write a haiku (is that even possible in 140 characters?), your tweet should not resemble one. Another issue I had was that all of the updates I received during those few days were related to Fashion Week—an event that interests me not at all. Granted, once Fashion Week is over, it follows that Eye’s tweets will cover other topics as well, but I think—as a rule—that general (or multiple) interest publications should never confine themselves to just one area of focus. By doing so, they ignore the fact that different people read their publications for different reasons, and risk alienating large segments of their audience as a result.

It’s certainly a time of great transition. The entry of magazines, companies, and other public figures into social media forums represents a destruction of barriers—ones that have traditionally separated business from pleasure (and, by extension, celebrity from plebe). It may seem superficially liberating to mix it up, to let one’s guard down. But I fear that, as magazine and other news sources are forced to mingle with the rest of us (in 140 characters or fewer), informality—even frivolity—will replace credibility. Much will be said by many, but it will become more and more difficult to isolate (or recognize) a meaningful thought.

Meanwhile, I now follow the tweets of 20 but contribute nothing to the conversation. My status is pure, untrammeled, undated, and empty. This “purity” should be no badge of pride, though. It only speaks of a lack of experience. And, really, what glory is there in being a follower?

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