In Our Writing Room

Here I am in my Internet writing room, with my sister, Zorina. Physically, Zorina is in Sequim, WA and I am in Orland, ME. According to Google Maps (http://g.co/maps/kskwg) we’re about 3,343 miles apart. If I drove to be where she is, it would take 51 hours. But the Internet has made that time and that space irrelevant. We’re right here, together, side by side, writing in our shared writing room.

We’re online, using Google Docs to work together. We’ve each got two browser windows open (actually I’ve got about twenty open, most for incomplete research projects I’ve been doing; but they’re hidden and let’s ignore them. It’s just two windows and the two of us.)

She’s using the browser window on the left side of my screen working on an article for her blog. I’m using the one on the right side composing working on this article. Through the magic of the technologies that we’re using she can see what I’m writing as I write it, and I can see what she’s writing as she writes. We’re thousands of miles apart, and yet together.

This is one of the things that I love about the Internet. Apart from the great tools that we can use it gives us more and more ways to connect with other people. It removes the barriers of space and time. And because so many of the tools are free, and because--even if you don’t have the relatively small amount of money needed to pay the price of admission, every library has a key to the Internet--the Internet often removes the barrier of money. With space, time, money, and all things material made irrelevant, the Internet unlocks creativity. And as we learn more and more how to do it, the Internet will unlock more and more.

Zorina and I both love to write, but I’ve got writing procrastinitis, a sometimes deadly disease that causes me put off what I want to do and love to do for reasons that are incomprehensible to me. She has a similar affliction. I love writing, but it often takes an enormous amount of energy to get started and an even larger amount to finish. I’m an introvert and for me writing is a kind of extraversion. Zorina, who briefly left her side of the screen to drop a comment in my side and who is as fabulously extraverted as I am introverted says she thinks that writing is introverted, which makes it hard for her.

Whatever the problem for each of us, writing requires strengths we sometimes find hard to muster. I can write if I’ve got a deadline. I can write a lot if I’m sufficiently terrified of the consequences of not writing--which is how I managed to produce innumerable proposals, presentations, and more than a few white papers while I was employed.

But now, there’s nothing driving me. No deadlines. No awful consequences. And the result is almost no writing. I can (and do) spend many happy hours on the computer carrying out self-assigned, research projects- each of which increases my personal store of knowledge and understanding. I learn partly for selfish reasons--I love knowing things--and partly for unselfish ones--I love sharing what I know. I dream of sharing. I’d like to turn each of these projects into a valuable bit of knowledge--encapsulated a post on one of my forty-seven sporadically visited blogs, or a Tweet  or a G+ post, some way to share what I’ve learned with anyone who is interested. Or just getting it out of my head!

Through the Internet, researching easy; and sharing is even easier. But it’s the piece in the middle that eludes me. Sitting down, confronting a blank screen, writing down my thoughts, deciding that I’m done, and then actually putting it out there where others can see it. That’s hard.

Post time! Finishing! When I manage to get something close to finished I become drained. I’m exhausted. I can’t continue to write. I lose the courage to press on. But with no threats and deadlines I have options. I can divert myself and research the next good idea. I can check out a G+ stream and share someone else’s good idea. I can check Facebook to see if anything new and interesting has happened in the lives of friends, family, or random acquaintances. I can visit the refrigerator. I can go to the toilet. I can do anything but what I most want to do: finish writing what I started, declare it done, share it, and get on to the next project.

I’m close to post time on this piece, but this experiment--writing “side-by-side” with my sister is vastly different than writing alone. I really like writing side by side with her. ( “Really???”) She asks, jumping from her side of the screen to mine. “Really!” I say, as I complete my editing pass.

We’re not actually side-by-side, for God’s sake. Other than random comments typed back and forth there’s not been a word between us. She’s represented by a bright pink cursor, usually on her side of the screen, and occasionally on my side in my document as she interjects a comment. But it makes her real. I makes me feel connected. It makes me feel stronger.  Her presence has encouraged me.

We’re working separately together on things that mean a lot to each of us. The Internet has eliminated the space between us is helping her finish a satisfying piece of writing that got stuck and kept me going on this one.

Now it’s nearly post time. I ask my writing partner if she’d do a proof-reading pass on this essay. Then I’ll post it. And then I’ll be done.

I ask her. She does it. It’s done.

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