So…how do you mentally handle followers and likes and analytics? How wide do you cast your net? What is the method behind your madness for social media (connecting? getting likes? comments? getting your work out there? conversation? growing your circle? your first, second or tenth millionth step toward world domination?) Do you check your opens and clicks and subscribers? How often? Does it ever take over your brain? Do you totally not care? Do you check your Google Analytics? What does it mean to you? ~Vanessa Herald, A Fierce Practice
Vanessa Herald, generous sharer of thoughts and asker of questions, is always posing good ones via her TinyLetter. Her most recent set of questions, about involvement and investment in social media, makes me realize that I have some thinking to do.
Writers–and creative peeps of all stripes–are supposed to have platforms. There are a gazillion-and-one articles out there telling us that agents and publishers want to see that we’ve built up a following, that we’ve got people lined up waiting breathlessly for whatever AMAZING content we’ll throw out there next. We should post early and often, engage our followers, stand out. Facebook keeps wanting me to shell out bucks for “boosted posts.”
Full disclosure: I started a blog because I had heard that it was A Thing Writers Do, because I was looking for an agent and I had heard that agents check up on these things–but also because I wanted to be heard.
The problem: my relationship with social media, and with attention in general, has always been ambivalent. I come from a long line of people who want to slide by under the radar, and yet I’ve always been driven by an ambition to do something that matters, to find my voice and speak. Writers, after all, write in order to communicate, in order to be read. And making a living doing what we love would be nice, too. Italian novelist Elena Ferrante has hit on something beautiful, I think. But how to become an Elena Ferrante?
To answer Vanessa’s questions, I’m sporadic. I’ve recently rethought my Facebook presence, and now I post on FB almost exclusively via my author page. There’s a lot of good stuff on FB, but the other stuff saps my creative energy. I can’t take any more well-meaning posts about horrific atrocities. I stay informed via other outlets, but I don’t need to be convinced that Islamophobia and misogyny and animal abuse are abominable. Still, I have to fight the urge to scroll my feed, and while I don’t put much effort into growing my number of followers, I notice and wonder if I’m doing what I should be doing as an aspiring professional writer.
I use Twitter largely to keep up with the writing world and the resistance, but I get sucked down rabbit holes far too often. I notice that I lose followers when I tweet about the rights of women and Muslims. I’m happy to lose those particular followers. But again I wonder if I’m as active as I should be, if I should indiscriminately follow back. But that feels deeply inauthentic, so I don’t. Perhaps this is unwise. I do know, though, that when I see others retweeting articles they clearly haven’t read in order to forge connections and grow their followers, I know that this isn’t the way I want to connect.
And then there’s blogging. I pay attention to my stats, notice that my readership grew steadily for a few years and then dipped last year. I wonder if I’m doing it right. By some standards, probably not. Sometimes I wish I had a wider reach, that I could have a post go viral. But then I get feedback from a reader who takes the time to think about my words and respond to them, and I realize that this is more important, this genuine connection. I also know that I just feel icky when I start obsessing over growing my reach. I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with having lots of followers, but I know that for me, it’s inauthentic to spend my time focusing on this.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know how I feel. Getting followers for the sake of getting followers doesn’t feel like me. I want you to read what I’m putting out there if it at least in some small way enhances the quality of your life, because I only want to read things that do the same. My time is precious, and so is yours. If you find value in what you find here, then I am writing for you. If not, step away–no hard feelings. What I want is to make the world a little bit better. I don’t want to be just more clutter in anyone’s feed. If this isn’t the savvy, marketing-driven strategy, that’s okay with me. I’m willing to cut my losses. I’m also willing to admit that part of me still really wants to make it big so that I can live The Dream of doing what I love for a living.
So the short answers to Vanessa’s questions are: 1) I don’t handle all this well at all. 2) I have no really discernible method, just lots of FEELINGS. 3) I get caught up in statistics way more often than I’d like. 4) I want to be a wildly successful writer but I also am totally unwilling to sell my soul so perhaps my entire premise is fatally flawed.
This probably isn’t what I should say if I want to get books on the bestseller lists, but I can’t be who I’m not. This isn’t as coherent as it could be, but I want to spend more time writing books and making art and gardening and beekeeping and walking in the woods and eavesdropping on my kids, who are hilarious when they think no one’s listening. I don’t want to fall down the social media rabbit hole and realize one day that I could have written six more novels in the time I spent growing my following on Twitter or WordPress.
And I really, really loathe the word “follower” in this context. It sounds so passive, so thoughtless. It sounds like groupies and fans and all the other things I don’t want to be, so I really don’t want anyone else to have to be any of those things, either. Let’s be anything but followers of each other. Let’s be friends, antagonists, conversationalists, co-conspirators. Let’s be dreamers and talkers and doers. If you can manage the social media stuff in the midst of all that, I applaud you, and maybe when I have some free time you can tell me how you do it. But right now I’ve got some art to make, and the peonies are blooming.
4 thoughts on “On Followers, Focus, and Flowers”
On one hand since, apart from a few lazy affiliate links, we are sacrilegiously not devoted to monetizing our bee blog, accumulating a vast number of followers is not important.
On the other hand it is nice to be appreciated and we have been childishly gleeful over well liked posts and increasing traffic.
On the gripping hand we are happiest with thoughtful and sincere comments that mostly seem to come from a few regular readers.
But we are old and somewhat secure. The youngsters these days seem forced to hustle nonstop and have a personal brand. The non-pretty people who can not monetize that alone and must have regular jobs, when not working, need to blog about their field to establish a presence, and maintain a growing network of contacts.
That also seems to be behind the netiquette to follow back every one who follows you and like their every post. But we are old and rude. We follow blogs that we enjoy reading. This is not a moral judgment against those we do not follow. There are also many excellent television shows we do not watch. We simply haven’t the time to spend on things that do not particularly touch us. We also tend to be a bit stingy with our likes.
As for hustling required in the inkslinging trade, some sort is needed to let readers know you exist but beyond that we suspect that it is best to be true to one’s nature even if it means leaving some money on the table. Lightning may be likelier to strike if you are waving long, metal barbecue tools high above your head but is that fun? Wouldn’t you rather be sitting comfortably doing more writing? Or just watching bees?
For what it is worth, it took a long time but the author of ‘The Martian’ was practically forced into best-sellership against his will.
I love your perspective as well as your bee posts. I aspire to becoming somewhat secure and yet still gleeful. This seems like perhaps the most worthy goal of all. I greatly appreciate your very thoughtful and articulate response. You are excellent writers and discerning humans. Some stinginess with likes is a good thing. There’s far too much mindless affirmation. Real affirmation is powerful stuff, but the clicky-clicky stuff…..that rings hollow when it’s indiscriminate. Your response suggests an excellent to-do list: 1) become old and somewhat secure; 2) become old and rude; 3) spend no time on things not particularly touching; 4) be a bit stingy with likes; 5) do not wave metal bbq tools high above head; 6) write more. watch bees; 7) be forced into best-sellership against my will. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, wit, and unimpeachable good sense. ❤
“Mindless affirmation” Rem acu tetigisti. A diet of candyfloss. Cheesecake of substance much preferred.
Thank you for your sincere compliments. You will have noticed that we do follow your blog. 8) We reply infrequently because a post often sends our thoughts in half a dozen different directions and we lack time to corral them into something more coherent than a bullet list. Then time passes….
That is an ambitious to-do list but did we really recommend being rude? At least the becoming old requires no particular effort. And do not let us discourage you from waving bbq tools if that activity brings you joy. But perhaps only in nice weather?
“Cheesecake of substance”–yes! Everything you write is articulate and often makes me giggle to myself. I appreciate your thoughtful readership (and completely understand/embody the multiple thought directions). You did not recommend rudeness, but described yourselves as old and rude, and since I aspire to be more like you, I am including that on my list. Perhaps I should not? Though sometimes, maybe, rudeness is called for? Hmmm….thoughts going in many directions now…..My husband does barbeque with a bayonet, so there is that.
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