On Wednesday evening, I went to a pub quiz. I played man alone and managed fifth place, narrowly missing out on fourth. The quizmaster gave me a “Special mention” as the lonely guy scored more than half the field.
I’m a self-confessed know-it-all all. What element does the symbol St stand for? Tin. From the Latin, Stannum. I’m a hoot at parties. Who sculpted the Pietà? Did you say Michelangelo? Wrong! The correct answer is “Which Pietà”? I even know how to get a grave accent on the a in Pietà. I know its a grave accent, as opposed to an acute. As Mikey, the male protagonist in my first two novels, would say: a loooot of internet.
This morning, I watched one of those infuriating “ten rules to follow if you want to become rich” videos – or something along those lines. Mindless Sunday morning YouTube drivel to stare at while waking up and waiting for reality to settle in. After the mandatory “ten things to…”, came the obligatory eleventh bonus item.
“Don’t be an information hoarder.”
This one hit me like a boxing glove to my beer belly. Because that’s exactly what I am. I am no expert on any one thing, but I have a shitload of general knowledge and have some arcane trivia nobody knows about. I know who Cornelia James was. I know who James Beard was. I know who Frank Beard is. Everybody wants me on their team when it comes to Trivial Pursuit time. Being the village know-it-all has its advantages!
But the truth is, all this information results in a level of mental and intellectual clutter that serves no purpose except to feed the ego at pub quiz night. Which, naturally, brings me to Mark Twain (real name Eric Arthur Blair. No, it’s not. That’s Orwell. Twain is Sam Clemens). Twain famously said, “If you don’t read the newspaper, you’re uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you’re mis-informed.”
When I grew up in the 80s, the modern philosophers of the day proudly proclaimed we are on the cusp of an information age and how wonderful it would be! And now we’re here, neck deep in an avalanche of information which just keeps on coming and coming and coming. However, there is a worse aspect to this information avalanche than its sheer volume: it’s also so damn interesting! The YouTubers and podcasters who have managed to hack the system have made the incessant information gathering so damn interesting that one cannot look away. I now listen to podcasts while I drive, while I cook. While I sit on the john for my daily constitutional. In a few more weeks, I’d be able to move from fifth to fourth in the pub quiz!
So, what’s the problem here? Well, the first is an issue I touched on in a previous piece of writing: your opinions are given to you. The left-wing honestly, truly, with all their heart, believes Elon Musk gave a Nazi salute. The right-wing, just as honestly, believes he did not. And never the Twain – Clemens – shall meet. You are told what to think, and your opinions are neat little op-ed pieces carefully constructed by a PR team to make “our” side look good…
But to me, it gets even worse. This information overload absolutely kills creativity. What did I do while driving and cooking before I got addicted to podcasts? I wrote books.
As a physical activity, writing is sitting behind a keyboard (or sometimes a Lamy fountain pen) and putting words to paper. But there is so much more to writing than the physical activity. The creative process does not happen behind a keyboard. It happens behind the stove making soup. It happens on the highway when the radio is silent. It happens on the long walks which, on the outside, seem so dull without the incessant information overload of podcasts.
During these times, I would literally speak out loud to myself, role-play characters and have conversations, create scenarios and put myself in the shoes of my characters to see how they would react. I’d act out entire chapters while making hamburger patties, and once the burgers are in the freezer — apart from the two I’ve just fried up for lunch — I’d go and write a chapter.
Now, I’ve become so addicted to information that I can hold my own in any conversation with a modicum of confidence, but my creativity is out the window. An honest self-assessment had me see that I am caught in an echo chamber of my own making, just another slave to the algorithm. Thanks to the insanely interesting podcasts, which are just so damn engaging, I’ve not written anything worthwhile in way too long a time.
My late wife often cited ‘analysis paralysis’ as a reason governments and corporations could never do anything. “A perpetual fear of better options,” she called it. Should we, shouldn’t we? Maybe, if we had just a bit more information…
And years go by where you gather information and do absolutely nothing. Reams and reams of data, reports, spreadsheets, feasibility studies for the feasibility studies… All this mass of information which serves zero purpose.
The takeaway here is to stop with the information gathering and actually fricking do something. I’m not saying you need to Leeroy Jenkins your way into a shitshow. Of course, look both ways before crossing the road, but you don’t need to go into a deep dive into traffic analysis to get to the other side.
Free up your time, free up your creativity, and free up your life by decoupling from the information avalanche. As those modern-day philosophers of the 80s said, we’re in the information age; we can look it up if we really need to know something. Like if Twain’s name was Clemens or Clements. Not Clemons. That’s Clarence.
As for now, I’m signing off. I’ve got a missing scene to write in Book 3 of my Felicity Street series. Kevin is taking over the kicking duties for the rugby team, even though he’s playing lock forward. Just like John Eales did for Australia in 1999.
I’m a pub quiz champ!
Cover photo: Expect Best
