what is this space for?

In an online world full of noise and distraction, where does this newsletter fit?

Last September, I went off social media.

It wasn’t planned, and potentially wasn’t ‘wise’ (I’d just released my second book, after all), but it was very necessary.

After two years spent learning how to be a parent and a debut novelist, while also writing a second novel, I was wrung out. There was no moment of introspection around it. I just experienced a sudden, visceral need to delete Instagram and Substack. I needed silence. I needed brain space to remember who I was, reflect on my new phase of life, and figure out what I wanted to do next.

Then, in January, Behind the Crimson Curtain was released in France. The French edition of Firin and Bregan’s story is gorgeous, and the online response from fans in France was really lovely, so I decided to pop Instagram back onto my phone to engage and post about it…

My whole life was immediately hijacked.

My brain. My body. My mental state. With one little app back on my phone, the quality of my day-to-day plummeted into darkness.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop looking at my phone.

I couldn’t hold a single train of thought.

I was maintaining constant levels of paralyzing anxiety.

I couldn’t write at all.

I deleted the app less than 72 hours later, but even then I found myself flipping from boring app to boring app (like my bank and calendar apps) despite knowing they had nothing even mildly new or interesting to offer me.

What was happening to me!?

In the midst of this spiral, author Susan Dennard sent an article to her Substack subscribers (of which I am one) explaining that she felt a similar way, and she’d gotten a new computer over the holidays that was only for writing (she blocked everything else) and had started abandoning her phone. She linked to a podcast by author Cal Newport in which he describes how smart phones and the apps on them are designed to force you to reach for them subconsciously, even when you have no good reason to.

If my phone is within reach, I will reach for it every single time I’m bored or uncomfortable for even a millisecond.¹

So, I banished my phone to a corner of my hallway.

Then I plummeted down a rabbit hole learning how to ‘focus’ again.

In a month, I read three books my good friend Gauri Yardi recommended—How to Break Up With Your Phone by Catherine Price, Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport, and Stolen Focus by Johann Hari. I listened to a bajillion podcast episodes, talked to sympathizing friends, and read dozens of Substack articles on the topic of attention that made it very clear that the surveillance capitalism our phones coerce us into is rotting our brains and our nervous systems (especially our kids’), and that the key to a joyful, present, fulfilling life is limiting access to these toxic, addicting distractions.

I learned I’m not the only one feeling this way.

Everyone around me—in real life and online—seems to be grappling with this same internet exhaustion and overwhelm and trying to figure out how to be informed, empathetic, and engaged citizens in the face of it.²

In addition to banishing my phone to a corner, I played with the Freedom App and Jomo to block all distracting apps (i.e. text messaging, email, Slack, and my to-do lists) except for two 30 minute windows a day. I started playing with 24 hour no-tech days on the weekend, printing my recipes, using an actual notebook to keep track of daily tasks, running without my headphones, listening to music on CDs, and calling people instead of texting them. I started batching news articles and Substacks with an app called Instapaper that sends them to my Kindle each morning so I can actually process the horrors happening around the world in a contained and less anxious environment.

The result of this new ‘digital minimalism’?

I feel more present, content, and fulfilled than I have in years.

I haven’t been ‘perfect’ with my new boundaries. (In fact, I went on an 8-day vacation where my new habits flew out the window and had to be painfully reinstated when I returned). But overall, I’m far more present with my kid and my husband than ever. I feel more connected with my friends and community. I am newly focused and efficient in my work. My head is spinning with more new ideas and projects than I know what to do with. I feel like I’ve gained hours back to each day—hours I redirected to reading, serving my community, and even writing 25,000 words of my next novel. For the first time ever I’m actually enjoying writing a first draft (What!?).

It’s blissful. It’s illuminating. It’s empowering.

Every day I tell my husband we should live off-grid.

And yet, I’ve been wrestling with a truth I haven’t known what to do with:

I’m an author.

I write books that I want people to read.

I cannot escape the fact that the internet is really the best tool that I have to connect with current and future readers.

How do I take up space on the internet when I don’t have a book coming out in the near future?

How do I use my voice in these spaces in a way that doesn’t just add to the noise that’s keeping you from living your best life?

To try and address these questions, I’ve sat with Cal Newport’s definition of ‘digital minimalism’ (from the book Digital Minimalism):

A philosophy of technology use in which you focus your online time on a small number of carefully selected and optimized activities that strongly support things you value, and then happily miss out on everything else.

Over time, my questions have transformed into:

How can I take up space on the internet in a way that intentionally supports the things that I value?

Given that I gain a lot of insight and value from some of the longer-form, thought-provoking newsletters and Substacks I subscribe to, I figured bringing this newsletter back to life would be the best place for me to start.

And so, that winding adventure has led me here:

I plan to revive this newsletter, Narrative Threads, as a space for regular reflection.

Moving forward, you can expect to find:

• Reviews of fiction books that have moved me and/or made me think

• Reflections on ways I’m learning to be more present and anti-hustle

• My thoughts about the increasingly hostile, fascist, and climate-ravaged world we’re living in and my endless search for ways I can somehow combat it

• News about my books; because I think I have something to say through them, I love them, and I think you’ll love them too

If that sounds interesting to you and you choose to remain a subscriber to Narrative Threads I will consider it the highest honor. There’s limited time and brain energy in your life, and I will never take it for granted if you choose to let my thoughts occupy that precious space.

If you choose not to stick around, I applaud you. Keep fiercely protecting your time, energy, and focus. Give it only to the things that fulfill you in the highest possible ways.

I vow to only send newsletters when I truly believe in the value of what I have to say and share. As such, I’m going to refrain from setting a schedule for posting, so I can alleviate the anxious desire to say something just for the sake of staying relevant.

Until next time.

Xo, E

Have you felt internet fatigue lately? If so, what steps have you taken to combat it?

1. If you have an interest in this topic, I would highly recommend listening to this podcast episode: https://www.thedeeplife.com/podcasts/episodes/ep-374-this-is-your-brain-on-phones/

2. Apparently there even is (or was?) a movement to go ‘analogue’ on Instagram? No idea if that’s true, since I basically haven’t been on Instagram in six months and trends can die as fast as they’re born, but if it is at all true, it’s hilariously contradictory.