Category: CommunityCategory: Community

One of the best ways to start getting away from social media is to think about where we put our stuff. We’re so conditioned to upload a photo, a thought, a hot-take to social media because we know something will happen – likes, comments, shares, etc. It’s absolutely the slot machine at the casino – insert coin, pull the lever, and something will happen.

Instead of posting that photo for “everyone,” try sending it to a friend and see what happens. Send it to another, with a little note.

Maybe post that photo on your blog and write a bit about it, and send a newsletter later to let people know about it.

Same with all our “hot takes” and opinions and ideas. Instead of posting them onto a platform to be monetized by Mark Zuckerburg and Elon Musk, put it on your website, use it as a prompt for your next Zoom call with friends, or email it to someone who would “get it” in your creative community.

We won’t get the same dopamine hit from these actions. They won’t go viral.

But maybe they’re the start of something better, like deeper relationships, or strengthening friendships.

It’s hard to be good friends with 10 people in your life when you’re always trying to entertain 1,000 strangers.

Our relationship soured in his later years, but boy, could he play the guitar.

My musician friends would talk with him about scales and modes, astonished at his musical knowledge. They shared laughs and insights. He spoke with them and his students (he taught guitar out of his house) like old pals, just hamming it up.

Not with me, though.

He gave me a few lessons, but for some reason he never poured out that same enthusiasm.

Like they say, artists are complicated people.

I ended up with his guitar when he passed. I had zero intention of ever playing it, and just knew it’d take up space in the figurative and literal sense.

An old musician friend came to town recently. A buddy that my dad shared a musical conversation with many years ago. This friend spoke glowingly of my dad, blown away by the depth of his musician wisdom and knowledge.

So I gave him the guitar.

I’d rather it go to someone who won’t resent it, or let it waste away. I’m bitter, but my friend is joyous. He’s sent me several photos already.

“I’m at a guitar show,” he told me, “and the luthiers are flipping out at the guitar. It’s mid 70s. They are guessing a mint condition would be around four grand. I was about right saying three.”

It’s just a guitar, and I connected too much with it for it to be useful to me. I’m believing in the hands of someone else it can do so much more, and so far I’ve been proven right.

In the end we own nothing, and we’re always able to give it away.

A lot of us are like a local shop with a non-descript name, no clear offering in the window, and nothing that sets us apart from anybody else.

If you don’t put a sign in your window that says COFFEE in big bright lights, people won’t randomly walk in and order coffee.

Instead, we’re hoping to attract as many people as possible, thinking we’ll win over a few fans by way of luck and self-selection.

We’ll link to a pre-order or a Patreon once, but we don’t wanna seem too pushy, so we won’t mention again for another few weeks.

It’s a lot easier when we send clear signals about what we’re looking to do and who we are. We then attract the right people, pulling them into our creative orbit.

So it’s not about going “viral” and crossing our fingers for more subscribers, it’s about getting the right subscribers on our list.

You don’t need a million followers, you need like 200 hardcore fans to make a difference. Then once you get those subscribers, deliver your best work to them on a consistent basis.

Those are the people familiar enough with your work who will understand that yes, you might post about our upcoming book a few times. To your fans it’s not annoying, it’s part of the way things work in 2025.

If they don’t like it, they can unsubscribe. Later.

For example, if you’re been reading this newsletter for awhile, you know I enjoy helping people get away from social media platforms, build an email list, resurrect their website, and build a community along the way to help each other accomplish this work.

• I send two newsletters a week.
• Paid subscribers can join my weekly Zoom calls.
• I offer Email Guidance if you’re seeking personalized help.
• Those are my photos at the top of every post.
• I make soundscapes for interplanetary commuting.

When you know what you’re doing, and who you’re for, it’s easier to find the other weirdos and freaks who get what you’re doing and want to come along on your adventure.

You don’t need a map or a manifesto for this, you just need a compass.

• There’s musicians that don’t play bars or link to Spotify.
• Authors who make block prints.
• Artists who only sell their work via their email list.
• Photographers that make videos about building fences.
• Teachers with French He-Man posters in the background.

The art of “being authentic” online isn’t just “sharing bad stuff, too” but building boundaries and sending the right signals for curious onlookers to recognize from afar.

It’s okay to not be for everybody, because you don’t actually need everybody to make a living, or get the word out.

A bunch of people who love your work could be enough, but those people might need to be reminded on occasion about the work you’re truly trying to make.

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This one is from Ana Calin (see her post here), and is closely related to the idea of getting awareness off your plate.

Make a list of 20-30 people you could partner with in 2025.

These partners should be influential figures with a complementary service to yours and a similar target audience.

By partnering with them you can send referrals, co-market and even launch joint ventures.

It’s a fantastic way to grow.

Get out a piece of paper or make a new note on your phone and think about getting away from doing everything yourself, and figure out the people in your orbit that might be open to creative expansion.

For me that looks like people I could interview for this newsletter, guests I could invite to our Escape Pod Zoom calls, and smart people who could co-lead a workshop.

Who are some people you could work with that’d help you get deeper into your work? Who are the people you could grow with?

We’re not meant to stare at our phones for several hours every day. As Tuğba Avci says:

“It isn’t easy, but we need to start treating our mental and emotional health with the same importance as our physical health. You wouldn’t run a marathon every day, would you? So why do we subject ourselves to this communication madness for 12 hours straight?”

We make ourselves more available to anyone at any time, as we might be on several different social media platforms and their DM inboxes and replies, Slack channels and Discords, and managing multiple email inboxes.

As Seth Godin recently wrote:

“You might not have thought you’d be spending seven hours a day reading the internet, or most of your free time posting and responding, but that’s what the social media companies have pushed us to do.

We’re so scared of leaving social media because we’ve been led to believe we’ll be alone without it.

So, how can we possibly live without social media?

We read books. Magazines. Visit our library and local bookstores. Join a knitting club or take a photography course. Learn a new skill or a language (or two).

We can play shows in weird venues. We do book clubs in diners (or Zoom). We make comic books and zines, podcasts on cassettes, and screen print our own posters.

We build websites, and we update them. We send newsletters that aren’t just digital product catalogs. We buy photo prints and postcards and vinyl from our friends, and if we’re broke we at least tell our friends about the cool things our friends are making.

We stop talking about the 900 things we read yesterday and instead tell stories of shit we’ve done, places we’ve been. Trust me, you’ve got stories.

We host dinners without cell phones. We make breakfast for friends. We talk up our friends who do good work with people who can hire them.

We start radio shows at the local college, make ambient music, make short films with our iPhones, and bring together friends to premiere our work over pizza and seltzers.

None of this is a guarantee. None of this goes viral, or brings in 100 new subscribers, or pays your rent.

None of this is easy.

People working at social media platforms made sure that posting a video is as easy as possible. That makes everything else feel like hard work.

But we need to do hard work because when done often enough, with good people, we create a scene and build culture. That’s how we find our people and start feeling less alone in all of this, because we can’t hang out at the food court at the mall on Friday nights forever.

Let’s start hosting our own Zoom calls, and meeting in basements, studios, and backrooms to create the creative world we want to inhabit.