Jumping Through Social Media Hoops (and Why I’d Rather Not) 

Jumping Through Social Media Hoops (and Why I’d Rather Not) 

On the day that I’m writing this article, the final copies of my third novel arrived at my front door. Or, more accurately I suppose I should say at my parents’ front door (I live in an apartment building, so to avoid the possibility that my packages end up buried in the Mailroom of Despair I forward special deliveries on to family). 

I wander over and arrive to find three large boxes on the dining table. 

“Well?” Dad says, beaming. “Open them!” 

I’m halfway through slicing the packing tape the topmost box when I pause. 

“Wait,” I say, looking up with a sinking feeling. “I really ought to be filming this.” 

Thus begins the great deliberation that seems to happen whenever anything adjacently bookish (or supremely author-y, like the delivery of final copies) occurs in my life: I ought to save this moment for social media. Hit record – oh, god, is that what I look like? Better go pop on some concealer before we do this… wait, what should I say? Calm, cool, collected… Hold on, even after all that concealer I still look like the grim reaper? Add filter, splice videos together, add music – not THAT song! – Is this any good? Is it funny? Too braggy? Am I stuttering too much?  Will people hate me for posting it?

Post twice a day, we’re told. Reply to comments. Add hashtags, add music, add movement (because static images are no longer always de rigeurdesirable in a TikTokified world). Post about your own books, but not too much or it looks repetitive and/or self-absorbed. Share your life, but not too much or it looks repetitive and/or self-absorbed. Grow your followers, build your brand – even though we’re increasingly in need of oracles to tell us how we might coax the ever-changing algorithm into favouring our meagre offerings.

Don’t get me wrong: I love connecting with readers over social media, and it’s amazing to see how creative different people can get in sharing their thoughts about our books. But I can’t help feeling that the time I spend making and responding to online content – time which, for me, inevitably descends into idle scrolling – is better spent writing. 

I know there are apps that are designed to help combat the scourge of online procrastination. But there’s something that feels productive about attempting to make that perfect reel, and about commiserating or celebrating with other authors on long Twitter chains: spinning on the wheel of content creation, of positioning that latte just right in the frame to show a snippet of an effortlessly cool day spent in the creation of – what, exactly? Fewer words, surely, than we might have accomplished without creating a performance of productivity. 

And that’s what it is, at the end of the day: a performance. Much as “authenticity” is the watchword for social media, I can’t deny that everything I post is manufactured: it’s canned spontaneity, bottled at the right moment to capture that #authorlife. Does that make it less meaningful? Not necessarily: sharing those snippets of ourselves online can be fun and meaningful.

It’s a thrill to watch another author’s book soar up the bestseller list when we live in different cities and can’t celebrate those wins in person; it’s a joy to live vicariously through a passionate reader’s hike through the woods, to watch them lean with their back against a tree and pull out a copy of their favourite book. To see a bookstagrammer’s wedding photos, or watch a video where a reader shares what they liked best about your novel – it’s all part of the same ecosystem of sharing victories and viewpoints with people you might never meet in person. Why overthink it? 

I smile at Dad and tell him to put the phone away. I’ll create a reel tomorrow, when I’m feeling up to it: I’ll put on the makeup and smile into the glow of a ring light, pretend I’m opening the box for the very first time. But for now, I’ll enjoy the moment IRL. 

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Bryn Turnbull is the internationally bestselling historical fiction author of THE PARIS DECEPTION (May 30, 2023; HarperCollins/Mira), as well as THE WOMAN BEFORE WALLIS and THE LAST GRAND DUCHESS. She earned a Master of Letters in Creative Writing from the University of St. Andrews, a Master of Professional Communication from Toronto Metropolitan University (formerly Ryerson University), and a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature from McGill University. You can visit her online at brynturnbull.com.

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THE PARIS DECEPTION

“Unforgettable . . . a powerful, page-turning tale of two extraordinary heroines who risk their lives rescuing stolen masterpieces during the Nazi occupation of Paris. A stunning read!” —Chanel Cleeton, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Our Last Days in Barcelona

From internationally bestselling author Bryn Turnbull comes a breathtaking novel about art theft and forgery in Nazi-occupied Paris, and two brave women who risk their lives rescuing looted masterpieces from Nazi destruction.

Sophie Dix fled Stuttgart with her brother as the Nazi regime gained power in Germany. Now, with her brother gone and her adopted home city of Paris conquered by the Reich, Sophie reluctantly accepts a position restoring damaged art at the Jeu de Paume museum under the supervision of the ERR—a German art commission using the museum as a repository for art they’ve looted from Jewish families.

Fabienne Brandt was a rising star in the Parisian bohemian arts movement until the Nazis put a stop to so-called “degenerate” modern art. Still mourning the loss of her firebrand husband, she’s resolved to muddle her way through the occupation in whatever way she can—until her estranged sister-in-law, Sophie, arrives at her door with a stolen painting in hand.

Soon the two women embark upon a plan to save Paris’s “degenerates,” working beneath the noses of Germany’s top art connoisseurs to replace the paintings in the Jeu de Paume with skillful forgeries—but how long can Sophie and Fabienne sustain their masterful illusion?

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