Conclusion: How does having multiple digital identities affect online writers? 

The intersection between the digital space, writing, and personal identity creates many complicated questions about who we are, how we know ourselves, and how we express ourselves in a world where all the world is a visible, accessible stage. As we grow more and more dependent on technology, so do our identities and our writing. 

The technologies we use for writing shape our processes…and thereby shape us. It is not a neutral exchange. For better or worse, digital writing is changing us. In Dennis Baron’s article “From Pencils to Pixels: The Stages of Literacy Technology,” he relates a brief anecdote to illustrate how quickly and quietly his word processor changed his writing process: 

​

I readily admit my dependence on the new technology of writing. Once, called away to a meeting whose substance did not command my unalloyed attention, I began drafting on my conference pad a memo I needed to get out to my staff by lunchtime. I found that I had become so used to composing virtual prose at the keyboard I could no longer draft anything coherent directly onto a piece of paper. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t think of the words, but the physical effort of handwriting, crossing out, revising, cutting and pasting (which I couldn’t very well do at a meeting without giving away my inattention), in short, the writing practices I had been engaged in regularly since the age of four, now seemed to overwhelm and constrict me, and I longed for the flexibility of digitized text. (Baron 16)

Digital writing changes writers psychologically, as we adapt to the technologies that enable us to write and revise and cut and paste faster than ever before in history. It changes the way we write text, as we think through our fingers and onto a pixellated paper that we cannot touch, and can manipulate only by hitting the proper keys or selecting the right menu items. We have more flexibility than ever, yet we can’t form the text entirely as we choose. Our brains get used to this type of writing process and conform to it, limiting other possible options for the composition of text. Our writing liberation only reaches so far as our technology does. 

Stepping into the realm of personal identity, the digital sphere also manipulates our psychological approach the the formation and distribution of our writing. We worry about how we will be perceived by the expanding, shifting audiences we are trying to address, which controls how we form our writing in the first place. Any number of readers might hide behind digitally preserved masks of their own design, and are free to criticize without consequence. Their opinions are biting and immediately available to the author, which also directly controls how they respond and what content the author will produce next. 

And as we try hard to maintain our lovely digital facades, we find ourselves dashing between the self-images we’ve created on our various social media accounts. We are no longer focused on building ourselves from the inside out; now we battle digiphrenia, as we try to exist in multiple forms in multiple places, all at the same time. Multiple digital identities means that we are now more focused on presenting a cohesive, carefully curated image of ourselves, as if we are building a brand. 

Yet in the same world of airbrushed self, anonymity thrives. In anonymity, we find a mask machine capable of concealing identity to a frightening degree. Many get away with writing indefensible things as they shield themselves with a virtual invisibility cloak. In “How the Internet Created an Age of Rage,” Tim Adams calls upon writers to own their work. While there is a time and a place for anonymity as protection in speaking truth to power, it should be wielded wisely. Adams quotes Arthur Schoepenhauer: 

​

Anonymity is the refuge for all literary and journalistic rascality. It is a practice which must be completely stopped. Every article, even in a newspaper, should be accompanied by the name of its author; and the editor should be made strictly responsible for the accuracy of the signature. The freedom of the press should be thus far restricted; so that when a man publicly proclaims through the far-sounding trumpet of the newspaper, he should be answerable for it, at any rate with his honour, if he has any; and if he has none, let his name neutralise the effect of his words. And since even the most insignificant person is known in his own circle, the result of such a measure would be to put an end to two-thirds of the newspaper lies, and to restrain the audacity of many a poisonous tongue. (Adams)

​

Ad hominem delivered anonymously is cheap. In our expanding world of digital writing and vicious critique, it’s tempting to send out the words without your name. But the lesson for aspiring writers is that you should stand by your word, and have the courage to put your name on what you pen.

​

Ultimately, digital identities bring to writing questions about truth. As we look to digital identities outside ourselves for the news, for approval, and ultimately for truth, how do we know where the information is coming from? The surface may be credible, but do we really know who to trust? And if we choose wrong, will the reality be lost outside our own littler filter bubbles? And most important: who are we, really?