Category: CommunityCategory: Community

In March, 36 people signed up for a Zoom chat about organizing our digital photos, and managing our digital files without cloud services.

Let’s do it again, maybe? Sign up here if you’d be into this!

A most gracious Michael Maupin wrote this tonight, after chatting with a stranger for a bit:

Live in the world, but your Substack (and online life) is a part of it. They feed each other. You can’t be online all the time.

OPEN UP. Git yer ass outside.

I only really know Michael via Substack, but we’ve talked once on the phone awhile ago. Online met offline, at least by way of actual conversation late one night.

Same as Michael’s conversation with someone at a closing eatery. Stories shared, and he got a new subscriber to his newsletter. It’s not all about “growing our audience,” of course, but it all takes place one person at a time, whether you’re trying to run a store front, sell a record, or live a good life.

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.