If you’re a writer, at some point of time or the other you’ve been told you need to be on twitter. I joined in about two years ago (I’ve requested an archive of my tweets so I’ll know the exact date I joined soon. I’m weird that way.)
Recently I came across an article in the New Yorker (directed there via someone’s tweet, of course) by essayist Thomas Beller. It discusses everything from which classical/ famous author would have made a good/ bad tweeter, to twitter and privacy. What it also does is talk about drafting your work on twitter, and describes the author’s personal experience doing it:
I found the experience to be strange, exhilarating, outrageously narcissistic, frightening, and embarrassing. In other words, like writing. But also like acting, or playing a concert—something whose essence is bound up in the fact that it’s being done live. You can’t really see the auditorium and don’t know the size of the audience. It’s like throwing paper airplanes out a high window: someone may see their elegant dive, maybe a lot of people. The plane will be rushed onward and out of sight. Except there is now a record of it. I assumed my series of tweets was a draft. They were not pages crumpled on the floor, exactly—more like pages to be stacked up and put aside, where, like some gourmet dish, its elements might have time to blend.
A day or two later I assembled the tweets, revised them into a short essay, and sent them out for publication. I didn’t say how the first draft had been written. This is how I thought of those tweets, as a first draft, one which would lead to another draft and maybe another and another, until I thought it was ready to be published, which it was.
Would you consider drafting your fiction on twitter? Not #twitfic ( I love the series by Jocelyn Rish) where you have to write the entire story in 14o characters, but actually write the first draft of a story or essay on twitter, composing it in the Twitter window?