The Social Media-Free Creative

Shortly after publishing this post, my inbox became a beautiful jungle of sorts. I heard from hundreds of writers, creatives, and artists sharing a wide range of perspectives and experiences – Leaving social media? Impossible for my business! – to I’d love that. But how?

I was curious to notice that, within each email, there was a strong underlying current: the acknowledgement that, wherever we have chosen to hang our digital hats, “platforming” is not enjoyable. For any of us. We are tired of being tugged, and we all feel we’re at the mercy of an unnamed algorithm we can’t fight, nor face. We’re not having any fun chasing follows, our readers aren’t having fun “keeping up with everything,” and we’d all much rather spend our time creating meaningful work and memories that matter.

One of you wrote this: When I saw your email, it gave me hope. Is there a different way? A way that allows me to get the word out about my venture without having to spend so much time on something for little reward?

And to that, I say: YES. We are here. We are done circling the sky, navigating the Cloud, dodging birds (tweets and otherwise), and we are landing the plane. And now we get to decide where to move next.

My children love to sing an old bluegrass song called Arkansas Traveler, in which a stranger passes by a cabin that’s flooding. Inside is an old man playing his fiddle:

So the stranger said Now the way it seems to me
You’d better mend your roof said he
But the old man said as he played away
I couldn’t mend it now it’s a rainy day

The traveler replied that’s all quite true
But this I think is the thing for you to do
Get busy on a day that is fair and bright
Then patch the old roof till it’s good and tight

But the old man kept on a-playing at his reel
And tapped the ground with his leathery heel
Get along said he for you give me a pain
My cabin never leaks when it doesn’t rain

(Forgive me in advance, you’ll now have the tune in your head for hours.) And while there are many varied interpretations to this age-old ditty, it is one I often think of when our world is met with unsustainable conditions beyond our control. Do we continue to place our energies into a future that compromises our present? Tap out of familiarity, comfort? Keep a-playing our reel?

Or do we attempt to fix the leak?

Fixing the leak is work, yes. It is learning to do things differently, it is changing our circumstance and moving actively against the reliable, known, (temporary) comfort of our surroundings. It is turning our attention away from the sun – the promise of likes or fame or quick wins – long enough to accept the reality of an industry full of platforms where very real holes exist. It is exposing ourselves to failure, to mistakes, to many course corrections along the way. But if we can mend now, before the menacing clouds become a rushing downpour, we can offer our work a bit of shelter.

HOW TO MEND

Advice is my least favorite thing to give on the Internet, and so, hold these principles loosely for what they are. And yet, it is my sincere belief that mending the nature of our online work is not only possible, but essential. Think: Roots down, boots down.

Roots Down

“Let’s not forget that, in a time of increasing climate-related events, those who help you will likely not be your Twitter followers; they will be your neighbors.” -Jenny Odell

I’ve spoken of this on many occasions, but the more hours we spend investing in our neighbors, local resources, and personal relationships, the more nourished our bodies and souls will become on every single level. And I am convinced that a nourished body and soul is the only way to sustain our work – online or otherwise.

For some of us, this might mean that things look quiet on the Internet front. It might mean we put our time and effort into sustained projects that don’t make us feel frenzied or robotic or disingenuous. It might mean that, to an outsider, it appears we have “taken a break.” But we will know better. We will know that showing up online is not the same as showing up.

I often catch myself using the term “community” when describing online spaces, but perhaps a better way to view these digital platforms are “communication-y.” They are spaces in which, certainly, we can communicate our work and our values and our ideas. But can we commune over them? Community is best suited for roots, for service, for proximity and loyalty and belonging, for giving and taking and giving again. And in that regard, we have all been given such mercy. We all have streets we wander, hands we shake, smiles we share.

If we want to grow our roots deep, then, we must dig in. Join the chamber of commerce (before it’s gone). Ask the local florist to tie your poetry to her roses (before they’re gone). Start a writers group that meets at the local coffee shop (before it’s gone). Host your own platform, print your own zines, launch an underground newsletter. Be a neighbor, gain a neighbor, and the rest is history.

To Consider: The old artist couldn’t sell their work. The new artist sells their soul. 

Boots Down

Mark Twain sold his books door-to-door. Warhol and his friends sold art out of an ice cream parlor. Nearly every author who published pre-1998 recounts passing books out of their trunk, and even today, underground zines are still distributed in alleys, quirky gift shops, and outside trains/tubes/trolleys galore.

What I’m saying is this: We can pound our given pavements. There is always a way to make art, give art, and share art, and we do ourselves a disservice when we assume there must be a hashtag attached.

In the years I have spent disinvested in social media and Internet culture, I have ghostwritten 2 books, written and published 1 book, spoken at 7 conferences, managed my homeschool co-op program, mentored 16 young writers, edited special projects for friends, volunteered for our local theatre nonprofit and led weekly guided journaling sessions.

I do not write this in a simplified attempt to bang the drum that quitting social media makes you wildly more productive (although, yes, it unquestionably does), but instead, to suggest that quitting social media needn’t be a hindrance to fruitful and abundant work. Other things are hindrance enough: finances, economy, fear of failure, supply and demand, mounting responsibilities, distractions, etc. May we not place the blame on an algorithm (or lack thereof).

To Consider: Are you sure you don’t have an author platform?

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I suppose the heart of the matter is this: We are all willing to question whether creatives/writers/artists can make a sustainable living without social media. But are we willing to question whether we can make a living with it?

My answer, of course, is here. But the more important question is: What’s yours?