Last week I read Sarah Glazer's post, Writing as Solitude and found this link to Alone, With Words by The New Republic's Jed Perl. From there I read Emily Gould's NY Times Magazine article.

Social media - the power lunch redux - is networking. Arguably this tool takes networking to the tenth power; however, the expansion of results are achieved through an amplification of consequences. When we power-lunched in the 80's we got drunk; when we overshare in the 2010's we vomit.

I'll admit I struggle with peering over the edge and into the abyss. I tweet. I blog. And I update. If I publicly share a piece of my life that hits fairly close to the bull's eye, I at least confer with the other parties involved. Emily Gould, though somewhat reformed, and many many others argue two-fold: "freedom of speech" and "it's the truth". Both positions may very well be the case, but neither is a defense against human decency nor accountability.

The idea of tell it all and tell it anywhere is quite frankly just bad manners. The online equivalent of the nose-picking, gum-smacking gossip you encounter at a networking event and break away from at the first possible moment. And yet, online, with its built in anonymity for both writers - and readers - we spend the night with mean-spirited and self-absorbed people with whom we would never be friends. Then again, they could already be a friend, or parent, or child.

Perhaps part of our collective challenge as writers in this age of immediate gratification is the absence of a cooling off period. We react, we type, we post. I found Jed Perl's words to be true at a most basic level. Some thoughts, feelings and beliefs are private. Some are meant for only a few. And some are shared among thousands. My responsibility as a writer, a friend and most importantly as a parent, is to pay attention. To drink responsibly. To remember that while I can burn the pages of a journal, I cannot burn what I put out into the cloud.

I’m writing a novel. Shhh…

For months, I wasn’t sure if I could tell anyone. But then I started to feel like I should pass a note with a ‘Yes’ box and a ‘No’ box and on the top scrawled in block letters, “Is it okay for Mare to write a novel?” Ridiculous. First, I told one colleague and then a second. They didn’t exactly condemn the project with faint praise, but instead offered cautious inquiry. “Really? Hmm... well are you writing anything else?” I quickly regrouped, “Oh. Um. Yes. I’m writing a one-act companion play for this abstract piece I got from a guy up in Canada.” “Great! Did you bring pages?”

Checking the ‘No’ box.

The headline could have read: Tangelico and A Cube With A View take the world by storm! But Dave Charest had a different idea: “Let's call it, Mare may…or may…not make it through this interview!” he quipped during his interview with Sterling and me. We talked with him via Skype on Thursday, January 21st. Before we started taping I warned Dave that I might lose power during our conversation because Phoenix was in the middle of a violent storm. In fact two tornadoes touched down within the city limits. Crazy! Sterling and Dave had great fun with this notion. They assured me that in the event of any catastrophe, they would carry on without me even though I wouldn’t be able to defend myself – in my memory of course.

On occasion I have blogged about the working relationship Canadian playwright Sterling Lynch and I have managed to forge. Social media rules! I found my way onto Twitter in March, 2009 (@MareBiddle). I searched for theatres and artists to follow. Sterling was among the first playwrights. But he was in Canada, so would it even be worth it to follow him? I mean, we weren’t going to have anything in common, but I followed him anyway (@SterlingLynch). Given my sharp wit, astute intellect, and promise as a successful playwright, he followed back. I’m sure Sterling would agree. As predicted, we have nothing in common. Oddly enough we seem to work together quite well.

Most of you have family or friends in town for the holidays. Inevitably, you will panic, “What are we going to DO with them?” Sure you can shell out $50-150 a ticket for a Cardinals or Suns game. I mean you can buy $10 seats, but let’s be honest, you’ll get vertigo up there. It’s never a good thing when you can literally touch the rafters – or the clouds.

There’s always the Nutcracker. Again. And again. You could go to Zoo Lights. Again. Or something else. Again.