I used Bench to manage my books and take care of my taxes the last few years. They charged about $430/mo, too. Not cheap. And then I see they charged me $528 on December 24th, and today, three days later, they completely shut down.
Apparently I can download my data on Monday. Gee, thanks.
I swear, these online platforms are poison. Today I clicked around and talked to some people, and signed up for Wave. We’ll see how that goes.
The holidays ring different when you’re nearing your 50s, your parents are gone, and you’re single. To date I’ve had 48 Christmas mornings, as a child, a teenager, with a wife and girlfriends at various points in life. What an adventure, huh?
But that’s life. I probably don’t have 48 more Christmas mornings in me, but maybe 20 or so? That looks weird when I write it out, but that’s the reality. I guess 20 would be great, but shit happens. Maybe it’s only 10. Maybe this was my last Christmas. No one knows such things, I guess.
But today was a day, a cold Wednesday, overcast and grey. Tomorrow is a new day, but that’s about all I know at this point.
This has me thinking about leaving Substack, where I set up my Social Media Escape Club newsletter back in 2021. This was long before they rolled out their Twitter clone called Substack Notes, which has ushered in some major social-media-like vibes.
So yeah, Substack has sort of become social media.
I mean, I love that it’s been the driver of subscribers for me, to the tune of 4,500 people on my email list. But holy moly, being associated with this company is a mental drag.
Thinking of moving my operation to Buttondown, which will cost me $79/mo, but at least it will be without the drama and the 10% cut.
I love this time of year when it’s cold and drizzly, and finding the random bits of light to make a photo like this. I was out twice tonight, actually, but finally got something that I thought worked.
Doing my best to actually slow down my walking, too. It’s the holidays, the work is done, and there’s just no need to rush.
Lots of truth in this statement, not just in a big “PR SALES!” sense, but even in how we talk about what we do with friends, and other people in our creative orbit.
Many artists would love for the “art to speak for itself,” but that’s not the world we live in anymore. There is simply too much art, music, news, drama – EVERYTHING – for things to speak for themselves.
Everything has its volume cranked to 11, and it never ends, and there’s more being added every minute, every hour, every day.
We get better at talking about the work by talking about it, not by trying to scream just as loud as everyone else.
Posting on social media can be like screaming, since we all have to scream to get attention on those platforms. We have to dance, or use the right trending audio, or hashtags.
Talking, though, is a lost art. How many people do you know that don’t even like talking on the phone with friends? Let alone creative directors, or booking people, or potential clients?
Talking is a lost fucking art, but it’s exactly what we need to get back to.
“Consistency is key. You can’t be in the right place at the right time without showing up consistently. You have to fail—and keep failing—until you succeed. People see Keep The Meter Running and SubwayTakes, but they don’t see the ten other failures that helped me get here.”
“But over time, Instagram became its own beast. It brought joy, connection, and incredible opportunities. It also exposed me to the darker sides of the internet. Chasing the algorithm and the constant buzz left me feeling burnt out. And as I grew personally and professionally, I realized it was no longer a fit for who I’d become.”
“One of my favorite things to do is to reach out to people in my network and acknowledge the cool things they’re doing. A quick message like this can be a mood booster for you both!”
“If I have to throw a pebble at your bedroom window every time I do something new, reminding you that I exist, then I’m not doing my best to even give you a reason to visit my website.”
True in 2018 when I wrote it, and still true six years later.
“Once I started trying to anticipate what other people would want, I lost my point of view,” says menswear designer Aaron Levine.
Don’t get caught up in how a newsletter to your fans is supposed to look. Don’t assume your fans want something short and sweet, or long and drawn out. You don’t make your art thinking about the audience, so don’t write and share your art in a way that forces you into form that is not your own.
2. TELL YOUR STORY
We talked about this in yesterday’s Escape Pod Zoom call (next one is Sunday at 10am ET), about making videos to showcase our work.
This doesn’t have to mean making dance videos, or shouting directly into the camera, either. Check out the work of Noah Kalina, Taylor Pendleton, Softer Sounds, and ISETTA FILM, and see how they tell stories in their own unique way.
And when I say make a video, I don’t mean produce a fully-featured clip and upload it to YouTube. Set up your smart phone, or turn on your web cam, or make some voice notes talking the thing you do. Do this today. Tomorrow. This will help you when you get interviewed about your work, or someone asks you about your art at the local coffee shop.
Practice talking about your stuff.
3. USE A DIFFERENT FROM NAME
Is the FROM NAME that you use for your newsletter familiar for your readers? If not, people might not open it.
For example, here’s the FROM name from my Substack, which totally makes sense:
But on KIT (which I use to send out emails about Escape Pod calls), the FROM name was…. my name. While many of my readers know my name, maybe some don’t!
So if you’re sending emails for your band, it might make sense to use your band name, while if you’re an independent photographer, it might be best to use your name.
4. PUT DOWN THE PHONE
You can come back to this email later, but for now put down the phone, or close the laptop, get up from the computer, and do the work.
You know what needs to be done. You know the next step.
That email you have to send, the print you need to finish, the form you need to fill out. They’re all small tasks and I know they can feel super big, but I promise putting off the tiny things will only compound.
BTW: have you done virtual co-working? It’s where you hop on a Zoom call with other people looking to get some work done. For the first 10 minutes you discuss what you’re working on, then everyone goes on mute and works together in silence. Then in the last 10 or so minutes we get together and talk about how it went. I’m gonna be offering this in 2025.
Social media companies want you sitting on your couch consuming as many ads as possible. It feels like a leisurely activity, but really you’re working very hard to increase shareholder value for massive corporations.
Sara Eckel wrote about this in ‘The People Who Don’t Want You to Sleep,’
Eckel references the the book Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention–And How to Think Deeply Again, in which former Google design ethicist Tristan Harris says “You can try having self-control, but there are a thousand engineers on the other side of the screen working against you.”
Breaking this habit takes more than just deleting the apps. It takes intentional action, which is what Joi Katskee is doing.
Joi (pronounced Joe-ee) runs Electric Radio Club, a weekly two hour radio show. But she also started bringing people together in real spaces to talk about music (watch the video above for the whole story).
Sure, it’s always going to be hard work to get the word out and get people to come out, but whoever shows up, well, that’s who shows up.
This is the work worth doing because it builds real world connection, unfazed by algorithms or “reach.” Social media platforms fear this, since now they are the ones missing out, unable to monetize our gathering and sell our data to advertisers.
So how could you apply this to your work? How do you get closer to the people who enjoy your art? What does it look like to do that in s sustainable way?
Years ago I ran a Patreon for my heavy metal trivia project called Skull Toaster.
That was bringing in $240/mo, and I was sending out a lot of stuff every month. Zines. Mystery metal CDs that I’d buy at the local music store. People could sponsor questions, and I’d make those hand written THANKS images and put them on social media.
I did a few virtual metal trivia hang outs, but I should have done more. I hid behind the social media posts because I was terrified of getting my questions wrong in a live space.
What would happen if you did a Zoom call with the people who follow your work? Or if you planned a small dinner with other creative people in your orbit?
Say we use the internet as a tool to make the plans, and then we close the laptop and build with the handful of people in front of us – then what?
What could we do that we’re avoiding because we’re scared?
Raise our rates? Fire that client?
Post that musical performance from our bedroom on YouTube?
Delete your music from Spotify? Delete Instagram from your phone?
Join that class. Teach that class?
And what are we hiding behind?
Making a dozen more vertical videos for 2% of your fans to see?
Updating our About page for the 20th time this week?
Spinning our wheels trying to get our website to look just right?
Waiting to reach a certain number of followers before we believe in ourselves?
When a system creates negative effects, it almost always happens gradually. Each node makes what feels like a reasonable decision at every step along the way, until the descent is far greater than we wished up for.
There’s cultural pressure and momentum to go along and before long we’re trapped – unable to get off social media, in debt, feeling stuck.
Toxic systems don’t go away on their own. Community action and peer support five us the scaffolding we need to build new systems. As those gain traction and power, the original system being to take notice and alter its behavior.
A lot of people feel stuck, and have a fear of missing out. I hear a lot of people say “well, Facebook is how I stay in touch with family” and such.
Until you get locked out, right?
Until that group with 1000 members gets shut down for some unknown reason.
