How to comport oneself on social media

And why is it weirdly exhausting

I kicked myself earlier this week for letting January go by without sending a newsletter, then I looked at the calendar, realized it was merely Jan. 27, that this long and interminable month remained as long and interminable as ever, that I had plenty of time to send — something, anything.

But what?

I am at a loss, right now, as to how to comport myself in social-media spaces, Substack included. I want to rail against the insanity that is this second Trump administration. I want to help the people whose homes and livelihoods burned to ash in L.A., to support the survivors in Gaza, to condemn — which seems so obviously abhorrent, yet maybe isn’t?? — Nazi salutes and white-nationalism dog whistles, to defend immigrants and reproductive rights and books and free speech and trans people and drag queens and EMPATHY IN GENERAL.

And then I go on Instagram and see an ad for socks. And fuck, they’re really cute socks. And those cute fucking socks remind me that these places aren’t platforms. They’re most certainly not journalistic outlets. They are malls. And as my brilliant friend Minda Honey pointed out in her recent Substack, these digital malls are starting to feel a whole lot like actual malls: “a haunted desolate place drained of its magic.”

I have never nodded (my actual head actually bobbing up and down, up and down) so vigorously to a sentence.

Photo by Julian Morenz on Unsplash

To be fair, I’ve always struggled with social media. I deleted my first Facebook page two weeks after starting it in 2006. I remember getting a message from a guy I hadn’t talked to since the eighth grade. The message seemed innocent enough, but said guy had not crossed my mind in more than a decade. I knew, even then, how weirdly exhausting it would be to try to cultivate some kind of friendship with this person just because we happened to sit next to each other in Mrs. Kyko’s World History class.

For me, social media has primarily been a work tool. I built Facebook, Twitter and Instagram pages for “Jean Le Boeuf,” the Frenchman alter-ego pseudonym I wrote my restaurant reviews under at The News-Press. When I realized I wanted to write beyond The News-Press, I created a professional Instagram for myself, and eventually made this Substack to offer bits of writing to a more personal audience.

Of course, in the world of memoir, the boundaries between personal and professional are fuzzy at best. I occasionally post things about my kids. My mom. Me lifting heavy things at the gym.

But now, posting any of that feels like going to the Edison Mall with a purse full of picture frames and tapping folks on the shoulder — folks whose homes may have just burned down, whose jobs may have just been de-funded, who still may not be able to afford eggs — and shoving my photos and plaques and book flyers in their faces.

It’s weirdly exhausting.

Maybe it always has been.

This is not to say I’m leaving Instagram. Or Substack. Just please know that every post I make has been thought and overthought and over-overthought ad nauseum (honestly feeling a bit pukey rn, ngl). It is to say that, while the journalist in me still struggles to post anything even mildly political, I am doing my damndest to address injustice, resist fascism and strengthen my communities away from these malls.

I’m still writing my silly little emails to my silly little congresspeople (find yours here) to remind them, time and time again, that a multitude of perspectives exist among their constituents.

I’m still donating — to people in Gaza, L.A. and Asheville, North Carolina, to orgs supporting immigrants and LGBTQ+ folks, to those fighting for justice and equity — as much as I can (hot tip: next time you want to buy something stupid on Amazon, delete the item from your cart and send that money to your favorite NGO!).

I’m thankful that I can continue to subscribe to my local newspaper and donate to WGCU, our local NPR affiliate. Perhaps most importantly, I am endlessly grateful to have an amazing group of friends who are willing to join me for talks and lectures, sure, but also for my kids’ soccer games and plays, and for silly little dinners where we don’t have to talk about anything in particular at all.

With all that, who needs a mall?

A bit of book news

The first email I received from my editor in 2025 was a doozy. She informed me that “The Mango Tree” had gone into a third printing — A THIRD PRINTING. I didn’t know it had gone into a second printing, so a third blew my mind. Thank you to everyone who bought early and often, making this triple-printing miracle possible. Just think, you now (probably) have a first edition. That might, possibly, one day, mean something :)

Upcoming events

If you’d like to come see me and have that rare, first-edition copy of yours signed, there are several chances coming soon. Here’s a look:

Feb. 13 — 4-6 p.m. @ The Sanibel-Captiva Trust Company, 13525 Bell Tower Drive, Fort Myers FL: Join me for a talk and book signing with wine, soft drinks and appetizers. This event is free and open to the public. Reservations required; email fsteger@sancaptrustco.com or call 239-472-8300

March 1 — 10 a.m.-4 p.m. @ The SWFL Reading Festival, Fort Myers FL: In its 26th year, the festival will take place at the Fort Myers Regional Library, 2450 First St., Fort Myers. Free and open to the public, this event is for all ages. Multiple stages will feature celebrated authors sharing the “inside scoops” on their books, characters and writing processes. Learn more about the 2025 authors here. Full schedule coming soon here.

March 26 @ BIG ARTS Sanibel’s Talking Points Series, Sanibel FL: Details to come

March 29 @ Corpus Christi Literary Reading Series, Corpus Christi TX: Details to come

April 4-5 @ M.F.K. Fisher Symposium, Women in Food & Storytelling, Nashville TN: This two-day event will bring together women from across the worlds of journalism, food writing, media, PR and more. Details here.