Nobody's paying attention
“Hey guys, look at this cool trick I’m doing! Guys, this is so fun. Guys?” (Image by Jonathan Cannon)
When I first started my email list for Eclectic Music, I was self-conscious about writing to so many people at once.
I was terrified that I would make a mistake — even a typo — that would cause people to roll their eyes and assume that I didn’t know what I was doing. I worried that I would share an idea that people would think was stupid.
What’s more, I was concerned that I was bothering people every time I sent an email out. I imagined that my relationship with these people was so tenuous and fragile that one false move would crush it. “Now she’s gone too far!” they’d say grimly, deleting the offending missive. “Who does she think she is?”
Just like the middle schoolers who wear a new pair of shoes to school thinking that everyone will notice and comment, I had the sensation of being on stage and vulnerable, afraid of being criticized and hoping to be celebrated.
However, as a result of practice, experimentation, and learning from the best, I discovered that people aren’t sitting there waiting for me to fail — and they’re not particularly alert to my good stuff, either. They’re not even watching, and that is normal.
If I have a message that I believe in, I have to be brave enough to share it and stand behind it. I must also have the fortitude to persevere even when I’m ignored. I may not get rotten food thrown at me, but I’m probably not going to be showered with praise, either. It’s ironic, after all the angst about pressing the “send” or “publish” button, but in fact, the most likely reaction to my work is going to be indifference.
Nobody cares that much, because everyone is worried about their own stuff. In middle school, I’m not going to notice that seventh grader’s unscuffed, pristine kicks because I’m fighting with my mom, refusing to get out of the car due to anxiety about my new haircut. Or I’m distracted by the text message that I sent to my friend fourteen hours ago that she still hasn’t replied to. Does she hate me?
Adults are really no different. Any email that I send lands in a noisy, crowded landscape, like one of several thousand sea birds crapping on the same arctic rock in some nature documentary. And the recipient of that email, just like me, has his own concerns and priorities. If I have something to say that could be helpful to him, it may take time and patient repetition for him to hear it.
It can be discouraging to think that nobody’s paying attention. It is easy to say, “what’s the point?” and give up, saving a lot of time and stress. I did that. I would let months or even years go by without contacting people who had explicitly invited me to email them by signing up for my list. However, it can also be liberating to realize that we’re not being scrutinized. If we accept, like the adolescent emerging into adulthood, that we are not the center of the universe, we realize that we have space to try things and mess up and be human. Our work becomes a playground instead of a battleground.
As our audience grows, we’re growing, too, more confident in our point of view and able to handle the inevitable disapproval that will arise — and the accolades, too. We accept that other people’s opinions are about their experience, not ours. We realize that how our work is perceived is not our responsibility. We can keep creating, boldly and unapologetically, to connect with the people who want what we’re offering.
Nobody cares as much as we do — and that’s not a problem. It’s an opportunity.