How much time — if any — do you spend on the Web? Is it a distraction or a blessing?Of course, both. But which more often? Lately I've been more spider than fly being online for information; getting in and out as soon as I've finished reading and not being too distracted. But I've been a fly. Often.
Both. Last spring, I spent a week at an artists’ retreat where you’re asked to leave your cellphone behind and where you have no Internet access in your room. There’s one computer with Web access in a dank corner of the basement. At first it felt strange. Quickly, it felt wonderful. I emptied out, filled up. I didn’t go online all week. That said, if you’re writing a scene set in a steam laundry in Scotland in the 1920s, who could resist Googling “steam-laundry scotland” and being led to “Tender Fabrics Delicate Colours Send a Postcard Van Will Call”? Who can resist taking a break from writing to search, say, for a used gymnastic mat on Craigslist, or looking at house-swaps in Borneo and Greece? I do wonder how the Web is changing the texture and reach of contemporary fiction, as well as the writing process. It’s so easy, now, to find out a little about a lot or a lot about a little. It’s so easy to get interrupted or to interrupt yourself. But what a lovely lot of things to find. If it’s the Web, are we the spider or the fly?
But I just love how she thought of the Web. As a web.