Increasingly, these are not separate things. The more I write my own stories, I realise that the boundary between truth and fiction is nebulous. Last night, I wrote about an octogenarian, whose cheeks were lined with the underground map of Tokyo, with a nose so huge it was hard to imagine he had been born with it. This morning, I am sitting across from this man in a coffee shop, listening to him complain about how Facebook hasn't paid enough tax. He is indignant and is never going to use Facebook again. I wonder if I write that he uses Facebook to advertise his skateboarding business it will become true. It's how Charlie Brooker must have felt when the Cameron/ Boar's head revelations came out. Oscar Wilde said,"Life imitates art more than art imitates life," which I doubt but the coincidence of making art that then happens is an experience every artist must have experienced.
Social media has thrown another dimension into the mix. The number of times Jeremy Kyle ironically says, "oh right, so it's on Facebook, it must be true," only to be proved through the lie detector, which he stands by 100%, that it was true. Did writing it on Facebook create it? It's almost impossible to have a conversation with someone in real life without them mentioning something they've seen on social media. Celebrities prefer Twitter. They say that Facebook is too much full of people bragging about their perfect lives, which is probably because they are celebrities and they and all their celebrity friends have perfect lives. My Facebook feed is full of 'inspirational quotes' that I struggle not to comment on sarcastically, pictures and videos of animals doing strange things and people moaning about their children. I've checked for perfection and it does not exist in my world. Twitter is much more brutal and unreal than Facebook. Celebrities complain that they should have known better than to have an argument with an egg (the default picture). They think that if a person has changed the picture it must be a picture of themselves and they are therefore less anonymous. Sometimes I think celebrities are stupid.
I use Twitter, mainly, to talk to other Archer's listeners about The Archers. I don't know most of the people I interact with on Twitter and people I do know say things like, "I don't understand your tweets."
I find that the line between real life and The Archers frequently blurs and I am often suspicious that I know an Archers writer and sometimes fear that I am secretly Lynda Snell.
I am surprised that they don't seem to have social media in Ambridge. You never hear Will Grundy say,
"'Ere Nic. Did you see the picture Will put on Facebook of his cow?" only to have her chuckle, "Now, now Ed, that's no way to talk about Emma."
They have the Ambridge Website and there was a brief moment when Tom Archer (the one that went to Canada and didn't come back, not the one we have now, who is Dr Who's grandson) put pictures of his pigs playing football on YouTube as a marketing ploy but Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and the like don't exist in Ambridge.
Ambridge, however, does exist on social media. I suspect that it might be difficult to avoid The Archers on Twitter on a Sunday morning. Twitter has a lot to answer for. They suggested that Rob was a wife beater, amusingly referring to him as Titchynob and look what is happening to poor Helen. She's become a doormat. Totally out of character and her mother, who never liked any men has decided that he's a saint. People are now tweeting links to women's refuges for Helen but it's all pointless. I used to like Ruth. She was a strong woman who took over the running of her boyfriend's farm (and then married him to secure the farm for her children). Unfortunately, Twitter didn't like her. They didn't like her Prudhoe accent, so the writers have turned her into a snivelling, whinging, grieving idiot. Why couldn't they have left her as the woman who had affairs with her hired help (no, not Bert Fry, that is a terrible image). Jill used to be a matriarch. No one messed with Jill and now look.
Twitter is too misogynistic to allow strong female characters to exist. They are all destroyed.
Luckily, I missed much of the awful doormat parts this week as I was laughing at my own joke. Rex 'fancy a goose' Fairbrother, was telling Ruth about his Granny Seaside, whose real name was Nester.
"Nester Supermare," I shouted at the Long Suffering Husband. He looked up from the Grand Prix, lifted his headphones off one ear and rolled his eyes when I repeated it.
"Oh, never mind. Twitter will understand."
I use Twitter, mainly, to talk to other Archer's listeners about The Archers. I don't know most of the people I interact with on Twitter and people I do know say things like, "I don't understand your tweets."
I find that the line between real life and The Archers frequently blurs and I am often suspicious that I know an Archers writer and sometimes fear that I am secretly Lynda Snell.
I am surprised that they don't seem to have social media in Ambridge. You never hear Will Grundy say,
"'Ere Nic. Did you see the picture Will put on Facebook of his cow?" only to have her chuckle, "Now, now Ed, that's no way to talk about Emma."
Ambridge, however, does exist on social media. I suspect that it might be difficult to avoid The Archers on Twitter on a Sunday morning. Twitter has a lot to answer for. They suggested that Rob was a wife beater, amusingly referring to him as Titchynob and look what is happening to poor Helen. She's become a doormat. Totally out of character and her mother, who never liked any men has decided that he's a saint. People are now tweeting links to women's refuges for Helen but it's all pointless. I used to like Ruth. She was a strong woman who took over the running of her boyfriend's farm (and then married him to secure the farm for her children). Unfortunately, Twitter didn't like her. They didn't like her Prudhoe accent, so the writers have turned her into a snivelling, whinging, grieving idiot. Why couldn't they have left her as the woman who had affairs with her hired help (no, not Bert Fry, that is a terrible image). Jill used to be a matriarch. No one messed with Jill and now look.
Twitter is too misogynistic to allow strong female characters to exist. They are all destroyed.
Luckily, I missed much of the awful doormat parts this week as I was laughing at my own joke. Rex 'fancy a goose' Fairbrother, was telling Ruth about his Granny Seaside, whose real name was Nester.
"Nester Supermare," I shouted at the Long Suffering Husband. He looked up from the Grand Prix, lifted his headphones off one ear and rolled his eyes when I repeated it.
"Oh, never mind. Twitter will understand."
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