I occasionally stick my tongue out, hoping to catch a fly in the shape of a response.
I joined Ello a few weeks ago, having snagged one of those coveted invitations. In the interest of paying it forward, I invited others to join me; a few days later, Ello announced that it was no longer issuing new invitations as it retooled itself.
It’s fashionable among a certain set to wring its hands about how social media is ruining our lives and causing us to disconnect from friends, families, and “real” relationships. It’s also fashionable to dismiss Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and now Ello as tools of capitalism. All of these rants appear on, of course, Facebook, Twitter, and the rest.
I’m a freelance writer and, unlike some of my colleagues, I don’t have the luxury of a steady gig that pays the bills so this is the only way I earn a living (and, no, this is not a hint that I’d like a steady gig in academia or at a publication; I actually like being a freelancer). It’s safe to say that I wouldn’t have the career I have without social media. It’s because I can spread my work on Twitter and Facebook that I even have a chance of getting people to read and engage with it. So, to those of you who insist that social media is the enemy: I’m glad you have the luxury to rail against it, but some of us depend on it for our living.
To people complaining of the damage to social ties: your argument is similar to those who insist that violence in media turns people into psychopaths. It doesn’t, and maybe you’d be better off getting off social media and calling a few friends for coffee or a potluck. Facebook allowed me to find and reconnect with beloved people from my childhood and former places of employment, and it allows me to connect with people I’ve learnt to like and even love, people I’d otherwise never have a chance to know outside of social media. If you’ll forgive the cliche, it is what you make of it.
As for privacy concerns: I’m not unaware of the issues but, again, the solution might simply be to not post anything you don’t want six billion people (the number of potential viewers) to see. As for data mining and hacking concerns, those are legitimate, but dumping social media wholesale is not going to make you invulnerable to any of that, unless you withdraw into a cave and use no method of communication whatsoever.
And to those who point to Ello’s invite-only strategy as elitism: I remind you that Facebook was, at its start, only open to someone with a university affiliation. In fact, it was at first restricted to Harvard students. So, um.
I offer this preamble to make it clear that my thoughts about Ello are, first, simply some thoughts and also that I don’t come to my (very preliminary) assessment of the site as someone who claims to detest social media while on it.
I like a lot of things about Ello. In contrast to the frenetic, overblown quality of Facebook, I like being on a site that is more soothing to the eyes. I like the fact that I can actually tell how many people have seen my posts — if you’re someone like me who needs to know if her words and/or work are actually being read, this is probably one of the more crucial differences between Ello and Facebook. Even if you’re not a writer: come on, admit it, when you don’t see any or enough “likes” on your FB posts, you get anxious about whether or not anyone saw your post.
The problem with Ello is that, as it stands, it’s soothing to the point of somnambulism. On Ello, it’s hard to tell who people are unless I know their real names or unless their names indicate who they are. It’s hard to do more than note, with varying degrees of high school anxiety, how many friends I have accrued, and wonder what I can do to get more. It’s not the most intuitive site. I’m too scared to log out for fear I might never get back in and because, once there, logging out is a two-step process, which seems really cumbersome (yes, two steps, the horror).
The parts I do like about Facebook have everything to do with how easy it is to share articles and thoughts, and the ability to delve into social networks where I find all kinds of gems, whether in the form of actual people or articles I might never stumble upon elsewhere. Facebook has a cheery quality to it, even if it’s an artificially induced one: I liken it to being able to go to a number of cocktail parties in one evening without actually having to dress up for any.
I realise that Ello is still in the stage of figuring itself out, and time will tell whether it disappears into the ether or sticks around long enough to become a major contender. Its success isn’t going to be dependent on how closely it can emulate Facebook, but the degree to which people rely on it as either a substitute or, I suspect, a different kind of place on the internet. Really, I have no idea.
But for now, Ello feels strangely isolating. I was struggling to think of an apt metaphor to describe how I feel while on on there and it occurred to me: I’m like a lone frog on a lily pad. It feels like I mostly just sit there, ribbit-ting to myself. I occasionally stick my tongue out, hoping to catch a fly in the shape of a response.
There’s a children’s song, apparently, which captures this perfectly, and so I leave you with this. Oh, and this.
Don’t plagiarise any of this, in any way. I have used legal resources to punish and prevent plagiarism, and I am ruthless and persistent. I make a point of citing people and publications all the time: it’s not that hard to mention me in your work, and to refuse to do so and simply assimilate my work is plagiarism. You don’t have to agree with me to cite me properly; be an ethical grownup, and don’t make excuses for your plagiarism. Read and memorise “On Plagiarism.” There’s more forthcoming, as I point out in “The Plagiarism Papers.” If you’d like to support me, please donate and/or subscribe, or get me something from my wish list. Thank you.
