Don’t Write For The Claps: An Encouragement

Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash

Yesterday a story I wrote got 61 claps (and counting)!!!

If you are big time on Medium, two things are probably true:

1. You aren’t here reading this article from Mr. “I got 61 claps”
2. You don’t get out of bed for less than 70 claps

Nevertheless, I am excited about my 61 claps. I even had a couple of people comment on my article, and we had some genuine exchange. It was great.

Again, please excuse my excitement about the small steps, but that’s where I am. Then I found myself checking to see if any new claps may have been added, or if maybe I had miscounted the claps before.

Why hadn’t anyone new clapped since I last checked?

How could I get more claps?

Why did this article get claps when others that I had written, which were just as good (I thought) not gotten any?

How many claps until I go viral? How much money is each clap worth?

I’m embellishing (a little), but my shortfall into this unhealthy space immediately brought a line from Bob Dylan’s, Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie, which I think is one of the most incredible things ever written, to my mind.

Sayin’ ain’t I pretty and ain’t I cute and look at my skin

Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow

Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry

The remembering of this line served as sort of a personal call out, an accountability check, a useful mocking of where my mind and emotions had gone. Look at me! Look at me!

To be clear, I do believe that metrics like claps, views, reads, and others that might be used on different platforms are relevant. And there is nothing wrong with wanting people to read your work, applaud it, comment on it, or share it. The reality is that’s how our work spreads, that’s how true fans and supporters come to find us, and we can use that encouragement and feedback to help us create more and better work.

The problem comes when these things become a drug or the metric by which we measure our work, or worse yet, ourselves. When the claps, the fans, the friends, the like, or the shares become the raison d’être, it becomes a toxic relationship.

It doesn’t take too much searching on this platform or any other to find writers, artists, or creatives of any kind who have decided that they are going to write for the masses. They use headlines that entice clicks and focus on content that’s cheap and inviting rather than writing what is meaningful, true, or purposeful for them and the people that will value what they have to say.

Again, for clarity’s sake, writing for the masses, or giving people what they want is fine, mostly, I think, if that’s what you want. As long as you aren’t sacrificing what you believe in or who you are.

For me, it’s a red flag, a wake-up call, like running into those little bumps on the side of the road that remind you that you are veering off track. When I start to count the claps or focus my writing on the claps, it’s time to adjust and remember why I’m writing, what game I’m playing, and that it’s not the same one that some others may choose.

Bob Dylan says it better:

“Cause you can’t find it on a dollar bill, And it ain’t on Macy’s window sill

It ain’t on no rich kid’s road map, And it ain’t in no fat kid’s fraternity house…

The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl

And play games with each other in their sand-box world

And you can’t find it either in the no-talent fools

That run around gallant

And make all rules for the ones that got talent

And it ain’t in the ones that ain’t got any talent but think they do

And think they’re foolin’ you

The ones who jump on the wagon

Just for a while ’cause they know it’s in style

To get their kicks, get out of it quick

And make all kinds of money and chicks

And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat

Sayin’, “Christ do I gotta be like that

Ain’t there no one here that knows where I’m at

Ain’t there no one here that knows how I feel

Good God Almighty

THAT STUFF AIN’T REAL”

No, but that ain’t yer game, it ain’t even yer race

You can’t hear yer name, you can’t see yer face

You gotta look some other place

And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin’?

We get to choose where will look, where will find our hope, what game we are playin’ and how will keep score.

Either way,

I’m pulling for you,

Bryan

I encourage others through teaching, coaching, and writing.

If you want to learn more about me or follow along, check me out here.

You can listen to my podcast here.

Check out my book, Be Kind, It Might Be Their Birthday, here.