Dorothy Parker, Queen of Twitter, would be absolutely wicked and her pithy humor would shine. She would delete her account every few months, often coinciding with a deadline.
Maya Angelou would have a rarely-updated blogspot blog, where she would mostly post poem fragments and little notes to herself.
Patricia Highsmith would post tasteful nudes of your wife on Instagram. Her account would be under a fake name, but everyone would know it’s her.
Zora Neale Hurston would have a lovely, much-beloved blog that she updated only during anthropological research trips.
The Brontes would have a shared LiveJournal, written in character as made-up people.
Edgar Allan Poe would still post faithfully to his DeadJournal every day, and be very extra on it. He would also secretly post fan fiction of his own work on AO3.
Ralph Ellison would have a wildly popular weekly podcast. He would talk about whatever he wanted, and have his friends on as guests.
Jane Austen would be on Ravelry, where she would post in feminist groups about the absurdity of women embracing traditional gender roles in the domestic arts and especially knitting. She would be banned from several groups and finally start her own LSG offshoot.
This story originally appeared on Book Riot.