I’m a little shamefaced to say that I was a bit of a latecomer to Twitter. For someone who makes a living by being on top of technology, media trends and communication … I really was a bit slow off the blocks.
I knew about Twitter, of course, but had only ever looked at it in passing – and hastily dismissed it as a pointless stream of inconsiquential babble from a group of over self-publicists and narcissits. Who, after all, is interested in the 140 character meanderings of c-list popstars and self-help gurus?
Ouch! Looking back at that statement I hang my head; I am shamed.
I thouht I knew better, categorising myself as an “expert” in social media goings-on – and consigned Twitter to background noise without proper thought or consideration. I am converted and I humble myself at the alter of the almighty Tweet.
Not that I was all wrong, of course (I rarely am as my partner and children will be quick to confirm). There’s a hell of a lot of inconsiquential babble from far too many c-list personalities. But this is the … well, choose your own metaphor as I hesitate to use “scum on the surface” … they may be perfectly nce people in their day jobs – and I don’t have to read their outpourings. But, underneath the, flotsam (nice word, especially when separated from its customary partner) there is a rich vein of usefulness to be tapped into.
Twitter, in fact, rules!
I’m going to digress: a quick definition, just for interest’s sake.
- Flotsam: debris/wreckage found floating on the surface after a shipwreck.
- Jetsam: materials/objects thrown from a ship before or during a shipwreck.
In my mind, this makes Flotsam the swirly rubbish you need to cut through: Jetsam is the valuable stuff, stuff that your floundering mariner considers of worth enough to try to save.
Twitter is a medium that requires you to be a careful scavenger – ignore the Flotsam and salvage the Jetsam.
I first started realising that Twitter had real value when I heard about “PLNs”; Personal Learning Networks. Anything with the word “learning” in tends to prick my interest, so I followed up on these references and found that PLNs referred to the practice of following a group of people in your chosen industry/field in order to learn from what they were tweeting about. I tried it, I loved it. Overnight I found I was getting a steady flow of information and insights that were useful and stimulating for me.
And then I started sharing what I was learning, and adding a few bits of my own until I realised one day that Twitter had become a tool I couldn’t do without. I slowly realised why (this was my “revelatory” moment), Twitter was effective, real-time conversation – and it really benefitted me on a personal and professional level.
The other day I heard, or read, can’t remember where unfortunately, (sorry, information overload is a definite problem and some information slips out without me noticing) the best explanation for why Twitter worked: think of Google as a library – you go there to access archived information, digest it and move on. Think of LinkedIn as it was designed – an online version of offline networking. You go there to hook up with people, share a few opinions on relevant matters and then move on.
Now, think of Twitter as a 19th Century coffe house. This coffee house is filled with professional, intellectuals and artists. There’s a constant flow of traffic in and out of the doors and conversations going in every drection. There’s a table by the window filled with half a dozen people who work in the same trade as you, they’re busy spinning ideas at one another – swapping stories of the latest developments in the industry. They offer you a seat and you join the flow of words and ideas, adding your own where they contribute.
That’s Twitter. Real-time, fast-flowing, easy to sift and categorise (just move tables) and madly exhilarating. Yes, occasionally the air-headed lute and viola star’s conversations from the next table float into your consciousness – but it’s your fault for listening, you can always tune them out!
Twitter is my social media Jetsam – very nearly lost in the sea of information but gladly salvaged. Go on, try a bit of beachcombing of your own.
The author would like to seriously apologise for the overhwelming amount of mixed and jumbled metaphors in this post – but, in truth, is unable too.
