On connecting and disconnecting
A few weeks ago, I was meeting a friend for happy hour in one of the more popular restaurants in Pike Place Market. As I waited for my friend and our table, I pulled out my iPhone — just to check email. Then to check Facebook. Then to play a couple rounds of Words with Friends. Then to text my husband.
What I realized later, as I chatted with my friend, a poet, about writing and publishing and technology, was how much I’d missed out on by having my nose buried in my phone. I’d barely registered the couple waiting next to me, growing more impatient by the moment, exchanging irritable whispers in that way couples do so it won’t seem as if they’re actually arguing in public. I hardly glanced at the tourists wandering in, the group celebrating someone’s birthday. While normally I’d have been eavesdropping and otherwise taking mental notes, I pretty much ignored it all.
The gadgets we have are a great way to pass the time while waiting for a table or waiting on line at the post office, but I’m starting to miss the old days, when I had to look outward to pass the time. I find myself wondering what I used to do before I had a phone to play with.
The answer is simple: I used to watch and listen. And more often than not, I ended up with great story ideas or snippets of dialogue.
It goes without saying that the more “connected” we are, technically speaking, the more disconnected we become from the real world — and for writers, this isn’t always a good thing. In this essay in the NYT Book Review, Gary Shteyngart concludes that the real connection (the one having nothing to do with cellular service) happens once we turn our phones off, or get out of range of a cell tower.
I’m not as addicted to my phone as some people — it definitely gets put away if I’m in the presence of real people — but it does away from the normal solitary pleasures I used to enjoy: all those interesting people to observe, all those conversations to overhear. So I’ve decided that next time I’m in line at the post office or waiting for a bus, I’m determined to ignore that enticing little screen, and to look around me instead.
Tweet this post on Twitter
Subscribe to Remembering English
5 comments
This is one of the two main reasons I have refused (so far) to get a smart phone. I feel I am too connected to technology as it is, and not doing enough living and observing. Thanks for this excellent reminder of the good habits writers and artists need to maintain to fuel their work!
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Midge Raymond, Addymac. Addymac said: RT @MidgeRaymond: Writers: Do your smart phones negatively affect your powers of observation? http://tinyurl.com/2ebloy9 [...]
I applaud you, Addy! I was a cell-phone holdout for a long, long time … and then I caved. I’m glad to have the phone in times I need it, but other times I feel it’s not worth the trade-off — as the loss of “living and observing,” as you put it so well. My new challenge will be to turn the phone off as often as possible, and to pay better attention to everything else. Meanwhile, hold out on getting a phone as long as you can.
Gosh, it’s right up there with facebook. I don’t have a smart phone, but I have unlimited texting, which seems to have replaced actual phone calls. This is sad. Granted, the phone has been “technology” for a while, but at least it allows you to hear someone’s voice. That has just fallen by the wayside. Such a bummer. But I know I’ll cave, I’ll wind up getting a Blackberry or iPhone at some point. I just know it.
[...] on my Facebook mobile app while standing in line at the post office or waiting for a friend, as I used to do all too often, now I keep the phone hidden and absorb the world around me. And this is the best possible scenario [...]
Leave a Comment