The people who just look at your stuff to be nice

“Of course we’re proud of you, honey! I’ve told you before, we’re proud of every one of you.” (SDASM Archives)

The most liberating thing happened when I told everyone I knew on Facebook about my new website.

Nothing. (Cue the sound of the lonesome wind howling across the frozen tundra.)

I had been writing and publishing on a blog every weekday for five months. You’d think that this collection of over a thousand friends, family, clients, former clients, students, former students, and random acquaintances would be interested in what I was writing, right?

Wrong.

One person commented and subscribed (I love you, Gayle!). But that’s it. No one went back and read my treasure trove of five months’ worth of articles.

This was pretty much what I was expecting, so I wasn’t too discouraged. It set me free. Nobody I knew was paying much attention. I could do whatever I wanted.

The people I happen to know from high school or college or whatever — they had no reason to pay attention. The clients of my previous business? Same. Meanwhile, I had been making friends The Marketing Seminar, so I already had a whopping 23 subscribers who appreciated my writing enough to receive it in their inboxes every day.

It was clear that the people who were interested in what I had to say were my fellow entrepreneurs and creatives. And they (you) were the ones I wanted to serve.

My content was a beacon to attract new people. And over time, that’s exactly what it has done.

If you’re already making stuff and putting your ideas into the world, you know just what I mean. And if you haven’t tried it yet — if you’re hesitant because you don’t think the people you know will be into it — please know that they won’t be. And that’s exactly why you should start. Making things and sharing them is how you find the ones who will really get you.

It’s been a relief to let go of trying to appeal to my friends and family. They will look at my stuff to be nice, but they aren’t necessarily into what I’m into — the common ground that comes from growing up in the same household, coming of age in the same town, or attending the same university at the same time have little to do with the passionate interests we end up having.

Plus, the people we have known for a long time already think they know us. They don’t expect any surprises from us. And even if we had something extraordinary to offer, they already have access to it. Nobody’s kids are impressed by their TED talk.

No, for a variety of reasons, we stand a better chance with people new to us or even strangers. My friend David shared with me the old saying, “An expert is anybody with a briefcase who is more than 50 miles from home.” We’re more open-minded and less biased when we have no preconceptions about who somebody is — and who they used to be.

This pattern has been repeated over and over, and I no longer take it personally. You know who doesn’t read my blog? My husband. You know who was never impressed with my versatility as a teacher? My middle school students. In a way, it’s sort of comforting to be a boring nobody the people who see you every day. It means you fit right in.

When we also get to “fit in” with people from all over the world who are into in the things we’re into or even enjoy the things we create, it softens the pain of the fact that the people who like us and love us don’t really care about it. It means we can give up on trying to please them and go our own way with our artistic vision. Meanwhile, we will know that their love and friendship will never be contingent upon what we do, but only who we are. That’s more precious than any likes or views.