I'd Really Like You to Read This

 

When you are creative and put your work out for the world to see, you're hoping people will somehow invest in it.

In my case, that means writing day after day. It means creating radio shows and game broadcasts and putting things on social media and hosting conferences and podcasts and doing anything else that I do.

Often, I don't know what the feedback is and, to be honest, I don't crave it. I don't look for comments and pats on the back and criticism. I don't know who listens to the WGCH broadcasts or watches LocalLive. I get statistics for Robcasting but I generally don't worry about them because most of the broadcasts are simulcast to another outlet and there's also an archive.

In short, I don't get a lot of metrics.

I do, however, get to see numbers for the blog every day. Unfortunately.

Sometimes, it's an indictment of the time of year. School is back or getting ready to come back. A few are fitting in one last summer getaway. So finding time to read my nonsense isn't a priority.

So, frankly, it's sometimes me. It's what I wrote and whatever I wrote wasn't exactly the top beef. It's been sort of flank steak. Hardly my best work.

The last four posts haven't landed at all. I thought the one about Veteran's Night with the Renegades would but I was wrong. So it goes. 

But I feel for anyone who does put heart and soul out there and, in many cases, is hoping their work sells. Many take that stuff personally. Whether it's words or music or broadcasts or some other kind of art, we view this stuff like they're kids.

Painting. Photography. Cooking. Music. Talking. Writing. Sculpture. Abstract. These are all forms of creativity.

Whether actually investing financially or emotionally it's all still an investment. To an extent, it's a performance of some kind. Here it's an investment of lots of words; almost all from the heart as I try to make sense of life.

Most of the time, I'm writing for me, but when writing every day for almost five years it's easy to feel the malaise that "nobody cares."

Now, I know I have a collection of people who do, indeed, care, so there's an inherent exaggeration in that statement.

This, by the way, isn't begging for everyone to say how much they love my work, but then again it would hardly be the first time that the point of a post has been missed since I didn't express it correctly.

I have friends and loved ones who create in myriad ways and they put their work out. How they measure the success of that work is up to them.

How I measure it I suppose is in that I hope it lands. I hope it resonates. So it's not always in reads but the quality of the reads, I guess.

It's an eye-opener when I see likes on a post and realize people are responding to the picture that I've used versus what I've written.

Then again, I often think that the statistics are flawed. 

But people do create. Let them know you appreciate that.

Read their stuff. Like their posts. Buy their product. Support them. Tell them you support them.

Trust me. It means more than you know.

(And buy Susan's latest book. It's emotional and deep and wonderful. I actually have a signed copy!)