The Sparrow/An Allegory

One of my first creative writing assignments in college was to write a portrait of myself. I wrote about a massive elm tree. I remember spending quite some time describing the tree's wide girth and the thickness of its furrowed bark. At that time I myself was a wisp of thing, still buying my clothes in the children's department and usually fading into the proverbial wall during social events. Then, as now, it would seem strange to describe myself as a mighty elm. That’s because I wasn't describing myself. I was simply setting the stage. Though I had spent much time finding the flowery words that would capture the magnificence of the elm and its lush surroundings, in the last sentence of my literary portrait I directed the reader's eye upward where a single sparrow perched on a bare branch. That sparrow, I wrote, is me. 

My girth is wider now and I no longer purchase my clothes in the children's department (save for the oversized fleece-lined flannel shirt I wear when writing), but I'm still that small bird, easily overlooked in the thick folds of the mighty elm and its surroundings. Unfortunately, it now seems that the metaphorical world I created has lost some of its beauty and charm. A foul smelling sap oozes from wounds I thought had been healed. It's noisy here. A great many blue jays have blustered their way into the garden.

For a long time now I've been grappling with my own presence in the garden, my own socializing in short chirps and longer trills. Like most of the people who share social spaces, I like being connected with old friends and former students, with teachers, librarians, other writers and the wonderful people I've met at conferences, Springsteen concerts and school visits. I will miss FB, Instagram and Threads— Instagram most of all. Maybe I’ll also damage my chances to land a new agent or to get another book published: research shows that most agents and publishers stress the importance of an author's social media presence. These platforms are a way for writers (even the quiet ones) to keep current, to be a part of the conversation.

Here's the quandary. Because I'm not really a sparrow singing from the limb of an elm tree but a middle grade author, I've begun to question the quotes and reels, the scribbles and scrolls that I ponder on Threads and Instagram. I seldom posted on Facebook, but I did continue to check in sometimes. I still enjoy the social loop— seeing west coast flowers when the east coast earth is presently so unyielding, wishing happy birthday to a high school classmate or offering a prayer for someone in pain. Withdrawing from meta accounts will hurt me more than the owner of these platforms but I can't help feeling that my continued use of of them gives tacit support to the billionaire who helped finance a convicted-felon.

Of course, many of my readers are not yet on these social platforms. My younger readers reach out to me via the email address I have posted on my website or through letters sent to my publisher and forwarded to me. These are the readers who tell me that reading one of my books helped them understand something about themselves or the world. These are the readers who want to know if Matt ever reconnected with his brother in Vietnam. These are the readers who simply want to tell me that they write stories too. 

I’ve yet to notify friends and family but I’ve deleted my two Facebook accounts as well as Instagram and Threads. What Meta considers free speech I consider hate speech. I’ve winged over to BlueSky and I’ll still be reachable by the email noted on my website. Occasionally I may post on Medium as well as here on Substack. I’ll also continue my school visits through bookedauthors.com. I am not going away but simply searching other branches on which to perch. 

After the initial weaning away period, I’m confident that I’ll be happy with my decision to follow my heart and STOP THE SCROLL. I’ve learned to walk away from anything— or anyone— hurtful or less than honest. I hope to develop some sort of schedule— I may decide to post political stuff on Medium and more literary stuff here. Once a month, I might devote a post that teachers and librarians could share with their students— maybe something about writing, or perhaps a review of another author’s book. Less scrolling allows for more thinking. More reading. More writing.

All that being said, today would have been my Wednesday Word of Wisdom day so I’m closing with the words of Elie Wiesel. It was reading these words that convinced me to permanently leave the Meta platforms. There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, Wiesel wrote, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.

I might as well be that sparrow on the elm branch for all the difference my withdrawal from Meta makes. But there’s a political and cultural tsunami coming our way and I am committed to doing my part to blunt its effect, however insignificant my actions may be.