Back in the early days of social media (we had only just stopped calling it “web 2.0”), I noticed an upsetting pattern:
I’d find a great writer via social media, usually through a shared link or common connection. This person would have a modest following and one or two breakout articles, but they weren’t big or well-known.
I’d enjoy their writing for several months and cheer them on as their audience grew. It was clear they were starting to get noticed, and I was happy for them.
Eventually, this person would figure out that certain types of content got more traction than others. Their headlines started getting more and more sensational, and their writing started to sound formulaic. The algorithm rewarded this with even more explosive growth.
They’d start making increasingly transparent efforts to monetize their growth, often by selling courses and coaching that claimed to teach others “the secret” to six-figure online success (nothing appeases the algorithm quite like false hope).
Their transformation to “influencer” was complete. By now, I had usually unsubscribed, but their content was still everywhere in my feed. I had to mute them to stop seeing it.
I want to be angry at these influencers. I want to be judgmental. I want to say that no matter how big my audience gets, I’ll never, ever, ever let that happen to me (I’ll try my damndest to never let that happen to me).
But I also get it. Earning money as a creator is hard, and the algorithm promises to make it easier. Sometimes it works. Sometimes you get lucky.
Most of the time, though, you waste hours trying to endlessly optimize every little thing, and maybe sometimes it makes a difference, but then the algorithm changes, and the thing that worked last time no longer works, and one day you wake up and realize your art has ceased to be art and is now just another piece of generic content battling it out with countless other pieces of generic content in one massive race to the bottom for algorithmic supremacy, which you probably won’t ever have because the people with money and connections and inside information have already secured their places at the top and are investing millions of dollars a month to hold onto them by any means necessary.
Well, that turned into a rant I wasn’t expecting.
My point, if I even have one, is don’t let the algorithm dictate your art.
The risks are many, not least to your art itself. The supposed rewards are vanishingly unlikely, and the path to reaping them is littered with burnout and crappy content.
The world does not need more exhausted creators spinning on the hamster wheel of optimization.
The world needs your art. Yours. The truth that boils in your veins, the fire that burns in your soul, the wild yearning in your heart.
Your art is so much better than anything created for a fucking algorithm.
[As an aside, here’s what I tell my clients about marketing: get the basics right. Know your audience. Know what they value, and offer it to them. Keep your branding simple and consistent. You can be on social media if it makes sense and feels right, but it doesn’t matter as much as you think it does. Invest most of your sales and marketing energy connecting with real humans, online and offline.]
I feel like I need to read this on a weekly basis to remind myself to stay true to myself. Thank you sharing, I really appreciate this one 🙏
Yes! Well said. We build our audience one person at a time. And by being as authentic as possible.