I don’t know, but something in my life is toxic to fiction, because the damn thing is always found floating belly up in my office. At first I thought it was the ph level in there or maybe my kids, but they all checked out as non-toxic (mostly), so it’s probably this stupid thing that’s plugged into my walls and eyeballs.
‘I’m not a Luddite,” says Kennedy, an award-winning fiction writer who lives on a cattle station in Victoria.
But she considers the internet’s constant flow of unprocessed information and chatter ”toxic to fiction”, which requires quiet, slow reflection by writers and readers. ”We’re decontextualising, pasting bits of other people’s work on our blogs and creating unoriginal mash-ups,” she said.
Kennedy limits herself to checking emails twice a day and saves up her internet research as if for an occasional library excursion.
Other writers find it harder to kick the habit. A well-known Australian writer told Kennedy he had installed the new ”Freedom” computer program, which locks the user out of the internet for a set time – ”like a compulsive gambler or an addict”.
Nah, that’s preposterous. There’s no way I would need a computer program to help me quit. I can quit any time I want. If I wanted to, I could just stop typing and walk away, cold turkey. Right now. If I wanted. Why? Because I’m NOT ADDICTED. GOT IT?! [Switches windows. Types: google.com then "Freedom computer program" -"Dick Cheney" +"help me escape this living hell" +"I have shakes already" and... um... "boobs"] DON’T LOOK AT ME!