The Exodus

Consider this my Emergency Service Announcement for Writers. Take it, leave it, or tell me to piss off, but someone needs to say it.

Why are so many writers and filmmakers completely blowing up their X accounts? I don’t mean just stepping away from X—they are entirely deleting their accounts. Gone. Zippo. Nada. Some, losing tens of thousands of followers, friends, and fans.

Before you blast me … “But, Jeanne, … the election!!!”

Yeah, I know. I was here for all of the political outrage coming from every side. I realize most of those leaving X are doing so because of a visceral hatred for the man who owns the platform. I get it. But that doesn’t mean that everyone staying on X is an Elon fan. Some are, but many aren’t.

There are a wide variety of viewpoints there ... and topics other than politics.

Guess what? That’s exactly one of the reasons I’m staying. I love a good debate. I like to see different sides of an argument. I like to do research. I like to keep an open mind. I absolutely love independent thought and, even more so, independent journalists.

But what I love even more are the people in my writing community who I have worked tirelessly to wrap my arms around for the past 15 years. In turn, they have swarmed me with support, love, and inspiration.

I am not leaving them. Not now. Not ever.

While I don’t feel a need to justify anything to anyone—just like those who exit the X certainly do not need to justify their actions either—I simply want to share a different perspective than those who immediately follow the masses out the door.

Let’s step into the time machine, back to 2009, when I first joined Twitter. We used to call it a “writer’s water cooler.” We laughed, we drank, we tossed ROLOs in celebration and drank tequila to drown our sorrows.

We found our people … and we knew our lives would never be the same without them.

You can recreate that magic, you know. I've done it by curating my feed, and tuning out the noise. In fact, it’s even easier now to filter posts than it was back then.

• Mute words (and accounts) having to do with politics … or any topic.
• Create lists / personalized feeds.
• Follow writing hashtags.
• Join writer chats.
• Set alerts (click on that little bell at the top of someone’s feed) to get notified when a specific person posts something.

There are dozens of ways to cull your feed to only see creatives!

But those are technical tricks. What I want to address is the human side of social media.

The thought of ditching my writing community appalls me. These aren’t just writers I follow, they are humans. Friends. Fellow artists in the trenches. They have nothing to do with the owner of the platform, or whomever holds a political office.

Some have celebrated my writing career from the day I got my very first article accepted for publication, they taught me how to create a blog, and cried along with me when the gut-wrenching rejections came after I flew to Hollywood for producer meetings. They proclaimed me “The Twitter Pimp Angel” because I spent more time promoting other people’s work than my own.

Our support for each other’s struggles was, and is, heartfelt and genuine.

I’ve made life-long friends, met writers and producers who are now siblings-from-another-mother, gotten a screenwriting manager from a Twitter writer’s recommendation, created a short film that’s cast and crew were ALL people who met on Twitter. I even found amazing mentors whose writing credits would make your jaws drop.

But that’s not all. We launched #scriptchat 15 years ago, and I’m still running it, (almost) every Sunday on X. Because of that chat, an editor at Script Magazine found me, and hired me to write my “Balls of Steel” column. Many years later, I was promoted to Editor-in-Chief of Script. And that same former Script editor who hired me in 2010 introduced me to my current boss at Pipeline.

There were deeply personal moments, too. When my childhood friend passed of ALS, my heart crushed from grief. A writer I had never met saw my post, reached out, and mailed me four of her autographed novels to try to distract me from my pain. A few years later, she became a New York Times bestseller, and she's still a dear friend.

I could fill another 10K words with examples like this.

My home is a town of only 4,000 people and one traffic light. Now, I have 10 times that number of followers on X. Think about that.

Before Twitter, I didn't know anything about writing, except I wanted to do it, and no idea how to make a career of it.

So many opportunities I've had would never have been available to me had I not met these friends. Yes, I have worked hard for my career and my writing, but part of whatever success I’ve had is because of the support of this community.

A community who understands me better than my own family does. After all, they are as twisted and creative as I am, and let’s be brutally honest, most relatives don’t get us.

But let’s explore the practical part of choosing to stay.

How many social accounts do you have? I’m on LinkedIn, X, Facebook, Instagram, Threads, BlueSky, Mastadon (whatever the hell that is), and others that no longer even exist. No, I was never on MySpace. I missed that one.

But how much time can you dedicate to not only growing your followers, but also doing what is most important … engaging with them? Because that is what one must do to build true relationships, not just grow numbers of faceless people who might toss you a “like” every now and then.

Okay, so let’s say you don’t care. You want to leave anyway. Fuck it! You’re out! Your sanity needs the break. You are absolutely entitled to that opinion and action. I would never suggest how a person should feel … or vote, for that matter. I’m not on X for politics, but I respect that some are very engaged in that side of the social world.

But please be honest … are you looking to only surround yourself with people who will validate and affirm your own beliefs? If that’s what you need for sanity, I understand, but perhaps as time goes on, you might change your mind. You might miss some of your old friends … friends who indeed share your same political views, but who didn’t have the bandwidth to juggle five to ten platforms.

Are those friendships worth losing just because you hate the man behind the curtain?

All I’m suggesting is, before totally blowing up your X account, let the dust settle. It’s easy to get caught up in emotion and want to scream at the world, running to a place you feel will embrace you, so you can all heal together. But … what if … you just deleted your app from your phone? What if you stepped away from the platform for six months instead of completely deactivating your account?

Would it be that hard to just hit pause and let some time pass first?

Acting on emotion rarely works how we think it will. It might feel good in the moment, but it’s highly likely it won’t feel as good months from now. Maybe let the world reset to a place where we're able to consider facts and data along with feelings.

I already miss the people who left who embraced me as a baby writer. I miss those friendships. So, if we used to be connected on X, yes, I am on the blue place, but I cannot keep up with all these platforms. I try. I do. But I have a full-time job, I run an antique shop, a private beach, and a cemetery … and I have a family. I volunteer for far too many things in my little town, including being the watchdog for local politics. I have to draw the line somewhere.

When I lamented with a beloved industry pro last night about juggling all these new platforms, I blurted out that I should just write an article about it, but backpedaled because I knew I’d get blasted for pushing back on the exodus.

Her response, “Well, look at it this way: we get attacked no matter what. At least you’d get attacked sharing something worthwhile!”

So here we are.

I hope my words help someone in some way … even those who will never come back. I will always support your decision to do you.

If you left, I will try to find you. But it might take a long time. But know, that if you need me, I’m here, on X.

*Feature image by NLShop (Adobe)