Every writer I know has such a finely calibrated and contentious relationship with the Internet. There are the sweeping maxims, the Post-its stuck front and center, but it takes but the slightest hesitation, breeze of what-if, moment of doubt, to sweep them away. [...] To prove my worth, and to participate in this ongoing communal construction of narrative, I have to bear witness to my own sensibility, presence, and consumption, and I have to do this via a bombardment of collagistic information. And yet on the page I want to move forward step by step and scene by scene, developing my characters and building a story not of fragments but of a continuous line, a complete vision. Are these two spheres, two ways of being, increasing antithetical to one another? Can they coexist?