I’ve read a couple of articles recently about why you shouldn’t post every day, like this excellent one from Scott Stratten. Instead, say the writers, you should wait until you have something meaningful to say, until you can write a post that knocks it out of the park, that people cannot wait to share and discuss and link to.

I’m fine with that idea in principle, but in practice if I’d followed it I wouldn’t have a website.

Hellooooo, burden of expectations

There are a bucketload of fears to manage when you start a website: I’ve documented nearly fifty in my upcoming how-to-manage-your-website-fears resource, and I’m sure I’ve missed a few.

When I started, if I added, “Oh, by the way? Every post you write needs to be totally awesome.” I would have run screaming for the hills. Instead, I was aiming for decent. Useful. Good Enough. Knowing that I was still shaky, that I had an audience of three people (all family members and friends), that I needed some time to start hitting the mark. Knowing that the more I posted Good Enough, the more I would improve.

Fail fast, fail often

It took about a hundred posts for my style to really start clicking into gear. I needed that time to find my voice and to find the right balance of information and personality: check the earliest posts and you’ll see I was barely in them. It was a deliberate choice… I was careful to make sure the posts weren’t all me me me and that they were, more than anything, really useful to the readers. I let drips of myself in a bit at a time to judge the response, and as I found that people responded better when I talked about myself (and my mistakes) than when I use hypothetical case studies. When I took the extra time to explain my logic. When I was quirky.

Because I post daily, it took about three months to get to that stage. I shudder to think how long it would have taken if I was only posting weekly. Or monthly!

Awesomeness by inches

I’m in favour of small improvements, especially when you’re stuck, scared or constrained in some way; I regard the five-minute missions as possibly the smartest idea I ever had.

I don’t think that every post you read needs to provide an epiphany to be worthwhile. If it gets you to take a tiny action, that’s Kick. Ass. That’s success. It’s not as dramatic as a home run, but getting you to bunt onto first base ain’t nothing. Especially if you’ve been sitting in the dugout up until now, chewing tobacco and sweating.

(What’s with these baseball metaphors?)

Notice my focus there on action. I don’t mind how big the action is as long as you’re moving, and because I post daily if you act as often as I post you build up an unstoppable amount of momentum. In fact, you might outstrip the results of the guy that read the One Super-Fantastic Post. And because every action was small and unscary, you might have freaked out less than him, too.

Awesomeness on schedule

When you regard your writing as an unpleasant duty, it tends to suck. No argument from me! But for me, the fact that I must write a post every morning has not made my writing into an unpleasant duty. When I started posting daily I was still in the honeymoon stage and had enough drive and novelty to keep me at the keyboard every morning, excited and ready to kick some ass. And as the honeymoon excitement faded, the posts had enough commenters and supporters to keep my enthusiasm high, and in fact, build on it. Without that building rhythm of post and response, my interest would have faded as the novelty wore off, and the website would probably end up another burnt-out hulk at the side of the information superhighway.

Cue the crickets and the tumbleweeds

I have written posts I was sure were “knock it out of the park” kind of posts. Posts I spent hours on, clarifying and improving, thinking, “This is possibly the best post I’ve ever written. This is a game-changer. It’s gonna rock my readers’ world!” And when I released them? A dog barked somewhere. A tumbleweed rolled down the street.

Now, if they were the only posts I wrote I might have given up in despair. But it’s been balanced out by the times I’ve dashed out a quick post in less than twenty minutes that I thought was all right, I guess and those posts have been the ones that rock my readers’ world.

Obviously, I have no fucking clue what you really want.

I don’t have tumbleweed posts as often now: every post works for someone. Sometimes they resonate with lots of you. Generally speaking, I still have no idea which will be which. So I’ve stopped guessing: as long as there is one person who says, “Yes! That is the thing I needed to hear!” then I call it a win.

I could probably cut back to less regular posting now, but I’m terrified that the posts I would skip would be the truly great ones that resonate with you.

So what’s the moral of the story?

I think that Good Enough is better than Not At All. If you have the skills and internal resources to write epic posts on a regular basis, do it (and let the English see you do it). But if you’re too new, too uncertain, too needy or too something-else to do so? Then write less epic posts that still help people. Write as often as you can keep the mental and emotional energy flowing. Give whatever you can give and don’t feel ashamed if it’s not as fantastic as someone else’s work. As long as you help one person, even in a small way, I still think you’re doing an awesome job.

What do you think? Come tell me in the comments!

Speaking of the website-fear-managing resource (which I am doing a lot right now, it is my life), if you want to get the inside scoop on what’s going on and find out about the awesometastic people I’m interviewing, sign up for special updates!

This is the last post that directly references the highly emotional post about social media and scalability, although I have had a number of very interesting comments from there and the follow-up post that will turn into other posts later. After much thought and conversation I have come to a conclusion: that post was the truth. It just wasn’t ALL the truth.

That post came directly from the 5% of me that is irrational, emotional, somewhat immature, needy and intense. Every word was the truth as My Unreason sees it. But without the rest of me to provide some balance, it wasn’t the whole truth. I’ve decided to write the balanced version below because I think it’s a more useful article when it shows both sides. Also, My Unreason is incapable of considering the impact of her statements; I need the rest of me to reduce the fallout.

Like everyone else I have some established rules about my online interactions and what I will and will not share. I’m adding the following rules:

The New Rules

• I will not vent my feelings about someone in a public forum. I will tell them privately and give them a chance to respond.
• If I do talk about stuff like this again, no identifying details will be used.
• I will clearly state “THESE ARE MY ISSUES AND DO NOT NECESSARILY RESEMBLE REALITY” as appropriate.
• I will give my volatile posts a chance to calm down. NOT to edit myself, just to ensure I’m telling the whole truth and not accidentally being an asshole.
• As in the offline world, if I’m unsure about someone’s feelings I will ASK THEM. Still works online, apparently. (We’ll see.)

Do you think that sets the right boundaries to respect other people while still allowing me to be honest?

Because I do want to keep being honest. The only regret I have about that post is the hurt it caused. From the responses, it struck a chord with a lot of people, and it produced a stunning amount of thought and discussion. Like Naomi and The Dude said in the comments, “I absolutely think you should be able to say what you think and feel at all times”. But it’s how you say it that can make this article either a useful and thought-provoking passionate essay on the problems inherent in social media, or a psychotic and unprofessional shrew-scream from the soapbox.

I’ve learnt a lot from this experience. Thank you to all the people who commented and emailed to agree with me. Thank you very much to those who came to disagree.

And dearest Wendy, I’m probably going to keep swearing occasionally. Thanks for sticking it out so far despite your shock. I’m very grateful.

The lie of social media, the saner balanced version

Join Twitter, they say. We say. I say! You’ll meet lots of new people and you can connect with the greatest minds in the world and it will be Awesome. And this is technically true. You CAN meet new people. You CAN connect with the greatest minds in the world. But if you translate “connect” into “get to know intimately” or “become best friends with”… well, you’re asking for Social Media to rip your heart out and turn it into a dildo to fuck you in the ass with.

Scott Stratten can’t be your buddy.
Elizabeth Potts-Weinstein can’t be your buddy.
Chris Brogan can’t be your buddy.
Naomi Dunford can’t be your buddy.
Sonia Simone can’t be your buddy.
Anyone with more than 10,000 followers can’t be your buddy.

It’s impossible. The people I’ve listed are insanely generous with their time and attention, but as Naomi Dunford eloquently described it, she gets 800 emails and 100 Twitter followers every day. There is no possible way for her to connect with all the people who want to talk to her.

But because of one of the quirks of social media and personality marketing, we feel we know these people well. They share a lot of themselves and their personal lives! We connect to that and we become friends with them… but they don’t have the time and bandwidth to do the same thing to us. A lot of the time they don’t know we exist. And this is where I start going a leetle bit crazy. Apparently I’m not the only one.

I fear Being Left Out. And when I realise that some of my mentors don’t even know my name? My heart beats loud and heavy in my chest and I’m anguished. Anguished. This is all my schoolyard pains, all the rejections of my life, all the Stuff I thought I outgrew… this is all my wounds waiting for me. And they don’t hurt less because you understand the math.

At first I thought, this takes time! Eventually we will be friends and they will link to my posts the way they link to other people’s. I’ll start turning up in the recommended lists. I will become one of the Chosen Ones.

Right. Right?

Rationally, yes. I’m still pretty small fry and I’ve really only been doing using social media with discipline and purpose for about 4 months. It’s not logical to expect that everyone I read will know who I am and be starting to pay attention to me this fast. I need to keep showing up and connecting with everyone I want to and given time the busier people will see me more and more in their streams and find time to talk to me. Relationships grow organically.

But in this situation they don’t, I think, at least on one side. I have bought products from every one of those people. Products that all include hours and hours of them talking, often quite personally about their lives and mistakes. Reading posts that are encouraging me to engage with them, to like them, to become friends with them. That’s how personality marketing works. So I have an emotional connection to these people and I buy all their stuff and they’re still not paying much attention to me. You know the friend who seems glad to see you but they’re never the one that calls to hang out? You start hating that friend, a little, because they clearly value you less than you value them.

Rational thought about how busy they are has little power over, “You wanted me to be friends with you. You bent over backwards to make me like you. And now you don’t want to hang out? Fuck you if you don’t like me back. Fuck you.”

This is different from me talking to my followers and commenters, because there’s a one-to-one connection there. We talk to each other, we connect pretty equally (although I already have people who think I’m a rock star. This is so surreal) and we both are clear that we care for each other. They have the time to comment on my posts and tell me that they’re interested in me. I have the time to reply to those comments, further the discussion, and respond to their interest in me. I’m small enough that I can make sure everyone who likes me is appreciated.

The big players can’t. I’m one of hundreds of purchasers, thousands of commenters, tens of thousands of tweeters. Their attention tends to be grouped, and we all feel less special in a group. Thanking everyone who brought your product doesn’t convince me that you know I exist. I paid you, not a group. I connected to you through your content and personality. The imbalance leads to the following situations and reactions:

Situation: Sonia Simone responds to a forum offer for free Awesomeness Consulting, not to accept, but to vouch for my awesomeness
Reason: Aww, that was lovely of her. It’s a pity she’s too busy and already has a darn awesome website. I’d love a chance to talk with her for half an hour.
Unreason: *sudden hope at seeing her name* *read actual comment* Yeah, you’d never take me up on it. You know everything already, I mean I’m learning half of this from you. You’ll never learn from me…

Situation: Elizabeth Potts-Weinstein retweets a tweet about my homework from her 4 Weeks to Live Your Truth course and adds
Reason: Nice. I wish I could get more feedback from her but I understand how careful she has to be with her resources.
Unreason: Is that it? Did she not care? Not like it? What?

Situation: I have a consulting session with Scott Stratten but his secretary cancels at the last minute due to horrible tech failure
Reason: Damn, I was really looking forward to that call. I wish he’d let me know that he was too.
Unreason:I know, I know. I’m Just Another Appointment. He probably has no idea who I am and he doesn’t care about me one bit. *angry tears*

Ironically, this last one was quite untrue. Scott did know, and did care. And if there was just Scott and I in the world he would have been able to tell me so and I would have been totally happy. But there wasn’t just him and me. There was him and me and 49,999 other people. And there is no way that anyone can relate to 50,000 people like that. If he was just broadcasting information that wouldn’t be an issue. But he, and the others, are broadcasting themselves. The tragedy of scale in social media is not that we can’t talk to 50,000 people; mass media can do that part fine. It’s that we can’t respond to 50,000 people.

I very much doubt I’m the only person who feels this way. I’m just the only one daft and selfish enough to write a very public post about it.

Again, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

[EDIT: There have already been LOTS of fantastic comments and conversations both here and elsewhere. And two posts from readers exploring their own thoughts on the subject. Go have a look at Wendy (who hasn't disowned me for bad language) talking about being naked in social media and Gulfsprite continuing her thoughts on social media relationships and expectations. They're both great and thought-provoking reads.]

[Edit 2: As requested:]

For next time.

Things are going well: the Awesomeness Consulting sessions have been a blast, and I now have a regular consulting client (sweet!). There’s been some great response to the website heresy series; our daily visitors are up, and we’re selling copies of the Website in a Weekend course without doing anything to market it.

But right now I’m not happy. And I want to talk about it.

Warning: contains LOTS of graphic cussing, irrational thought and hyperbole. You are not required to read on.

Join Twitter, they say. We say. I say! You’ll meet lots of new people and you can connect with the greatest minds in the world and it will be Awesome. And this is technically true. You CAN meet new people. You CAN connect with the greatest minds in the world. But if you translate “connect” into “get to know well” or “become best friends with”… well, you’re asking for Social Media to rip your heart out and turn it into a dildo to fuck you in the ass with.

Scott Stratten will not be your buddy.
Elizabeth Potts-Weinstein will not be your buddy.
Chris Brogan will not be your buddy.
Naomi Dunford will not be your buddy.
Sonia Simone will not be your buddy.
Anyone with more than 10,000 followers will not be your buddy.

This isn’t an equal relationship. You’ve put them on a special list so that you can follow every word they say; you know about their cat, their kid, their preferences in spaghetti sauce. But you… you’re just another scrolling name. You’re noise.

This hurts me. I fear Being Left Out. And when I realise that some of my mentors don’t even know my name? My heart beats loud and heavy in my chest and I’m anguished. Anguished. This is all my schoolyard pains, all the rejections of my life, all the Stuff I thought I outgrew… this is all my wounds waiting for me. And they don’t hurt less because you understand the math.

At first I thought, this takes time! Eventually we will be friends and they will link to my posts the way they link to other people’s. I’ll start turning up in the recommended lists. I will become one of the Chosen Ones.

Right. Right?

But the Cool Kids keep talking to each other, and I’m standing outside the circle, laughing at the jokes and making comments that no-one hears. Feeling yearning and left-out. And unloved. And angry.

Fuck’em if they don’t love me. Fuck them.

Oh God I suck. There are hundreds of people following me, and a core of a few dozen who DO comment on my posts, RT my stuff, encourage me and appreciate what I do. And some of them are reading this and thinking, “What am I? Chopped liver?” No. No! And also yes. It doesn’t seem to matter how many wonderful people appreciate me. For fuck’s sake, one reader made a website based on a conversation we had. See that icon for Website in a Weekend in the sidebar? She made that so she could promote my product! I have fans, I have friends.

And yet. And yet.

When Sonia Simone responds to a forum offer for free Awesomeness Consulting to vouch for my awesomeness I think, “Yeah, but you’d never take me up on it.”

When Elizabeth Potts-Weinstein retweets something I’ve done for her and adds I think, “Is that it?”

When I’ve been looking forward to my consulting session with Scott Stratten for weeks and his secretary cancels at the last minute and I know, I know that I’m Just Another Appointment, I burn with resentment and shame.

When I realise that I will sometimes have more meaningful interactions with these people, but it will only be because I am paying them money for it, I cry and clench and fume and sigh.

I may never make it. And even if I form my own group, even if I become the next generation of Cool Kid, this will still hurt me.

Please, please. Please come be my friend and approve of me and treat me as an equal.

Please.

[EDIT: There has been a LOT of excellent commentary and follow-up. If you want to see this explored more, including a saner and more balanced version of this post written two days later, please read the questions about social media, and my new social media rules and a more thoughtful analysis of a problem in social media. There have also been two posts written by other people exploring their own thoughts: Go have a look at Wendy (who hasn't disowned me for bad language) talking about being naked in social media and Gulfsprite continuing her thoughts on social media relationships and expectations. They're both great and thought-provoking reads.]