I arrived on the island determined to create something that would inspire people and promote my work on Instagram. I had a month to do it. I was convinced this was a good idea.
Why? Because everyone on Instagram was doing it. And I saw endless messages about how to make it work.
Under normal conditions, I refuse to touch Instagram with a long stick. But I decided that if I was going to use the app, I should download it on my phone and start scrolling. At least then I could see what other people were making and work out where my own material might fit.
It was a science project. A research mission. Not a personal desire to use Instagram.
No matter. Within the first few seconds, I felt shocked, awed and hooked.
Within an hour, I felt overwhelmed, insecure and needy. Other creators seemed to be doing much better than me. I wanted to learn what they knew that I didn't. At a certain point, I stopped ignoring the adverts and started clicking them.
They were all about making viral content. The secret to getting rich on Instagram. How somebody got 250,000 followers in a month and how I could too.
I was already altered by then. The trance had settled in nicely.
I bought one course, then another, then another. It happened over several days. My new obsession.
The courses all said roughly the same thing: please the algorithm; find what other people are doing and copy it; use clever hooks; reward people in the first three seconds; track everything; do more of whatever works.
I had gone from curiosity to lack, from wanting to share something useful to prostituting myself to the lords of the algorithm.
Without noticing, I was learning to create the exact sort of material that had got me trapped. If I didn't want to play that game, it seemed better to pack up shop and go home.
And that was before I had even posted anything.