“Not all work needs to go on Instagram to woo people. Some of it can simply exist to help you refine your craft and understand yourself better.”
A weird thing you may experience while starting out is the attention itself. You crave it but it makes you anxious.
You feel insecure when the eyes are on you. You feel unwanted when they’re not. A bit complicated, right?
There’s always a conflict between the part of you that wants to be praised while another part that asks you to focus on work instead.
Although these internal conflicts seem confusing, they make space for introspection. These hunches and the uneasiness is actually your intuition talking to you.
The moment you stop constantly sharing, you get a chance to pause and reflect. Then, you can break the rut.
Can you not simply create and avoid unnecessary sharing?
There’s no need to keep up with social media. It often works like a distraction. And considering that you’re vulnerable and more likely to quit when you’re a beginner, creating must be a bigger priority above sharing.
It’s a fine way to keep going without falling prey to the humiliation that any attempt brings along with it.
Create, don’t broadcast
Start creating – do it at your own pace in solitude, without trumpeting about it to the world.
Practice without forcing yourself to keep up with unnecessary chaos in the world.
- Write something. Let it stay on the computer. Then write the next draft.
- Draw something. Put it in the drawer. Make another sketch.
- Create work that sucks. Understand what went wrong. Practice again.
Those voice memos may become podcasts. And the scribbles and notes might lay the foundation for a blog. None of that slogging is wasted – it gives something back.
So, create but don’t broadcast
What’s the point in being a showman when you don’t cherish the work you do in isolation? The only way to know whether you really love the work you do or not is to just do it for yourself and see whether it brings sheer joy.
It’s worth knowing whether you’d still love your work without the byproducts like attention and praise.
The world wouldn’t know that you worked hard. Or that you worked at all. You won’t witness any hearts popping-up in your notifications.
But you’ll understand a thing or two about improvement. You’ll experience the joy of simply creating without being anxious about any imaginary flak.
There’s won’t be fear of being judged. No race against unfamiliar faces. And absolutely no holding back due to fear of online responses.
It works, always
It’s alright to not share stuff online. It’s fine to remain in the shadows. It’s okay to desire finesse instead of praise for a while.
You have enough time to rehearse backstage before you put on a show. It’s a place where you may not be noticed or get applauded – but it’s definitely where most work happens.
Moral? Let’s sweat more on the backstage.