On Applauding Your Own Story
After my introductory post on Medium, I took a moment to look around. I saw what looked like hands clapping and moused over them: “You can’t applaud your own story,” I was informed. I inhaled sharply, suddenly taken aback.
Now, I get what’s meant. Facebook and Twitter users can like their own posts. Redditors upvote their own posts by default. So, okay, I get that Medium doesn’t allow that, and that’s fine. This post isn’t actually about Medium’s applause function.
Many of you reading this are “trying to make a go of this writing thing.” If you’re like me, you’ve played with Patreon and Blogspot and self-publishing on Amazon, maybe tried posting things around on Reddit or Facebook or Twitter or Instagram, as well as a host of other, smaller places. Maybe you got into Wattpad, or some specific fanfic site. As part of my own ADHD-fueled exploration of platforms, I’ve come now to Medium, and there’s one critical thing I’ve learned from the whole experience:
You absolutely must learn to applaud your own story.
Not in a multi-account spam kinda way — no, you must absolutely believe in and be excited about your own work.
The vast majority of us dream of making it big, going viral, getting picked up by some major company, or just, one way or another, having a large and loyal following applauding our every post and project.
That said, the vast majority of us end up with a few friends and family who dutifully like/clap/upvote our posts, maybe even occasionally sharing out some major accomplishment or resonant piece, and that’s about it.
I have followers on Patreon and — as of this post — am making thirty dollars a month on that platform. I still post monthly and get paid, but it’s been… well… a while since anyone has interacted with anything there. I feel the love and intention from the people who want to support me there, and I get that my writing projects and dreams are a sideshow in their lives. This is absolutely valid; audiences must be built authentically, and no one owes me anything.
They owe me nothing, and still are giving me something. It’s important to reframe this: they aren’t begrudging fans, they are supporters. Patrons, in the true sense of the word. They want to do their small part to help me have a chance to flourish.
Musicians know the importance of practice — with and without an audience — in a way that most new writers can’t comprehend. Maybe because music is a transitory thing, an activity that is repeated live at every new concert, rather than a thing captured into static words, that sure looks done once written.
We writers must unlearn this. Many of us know that nothing is ever truly done, but most of us don’t accept that writing can be transitory. We must practice writing alone and practice writing for an audience, but we can also let go and let much of our work — especially our early work — be transitory. There is nothing sacred about this text. Most things I’ve written are not worth gathering into an anthology, just like most practice sessions of beginning musicians are not worth selling on whatever app sells music these days.
As someone who (and I know I’m not alone in this) is primarily motivated by external validation, whose daily dopamine levels are dictated in large part by social media interactions and KDP sales reports, I have a tendency to jump from platform to platform, hoping some next one might include the magic key that unlocks the gate between my writing and the mythical loyal, loving audience ready to eat up my every word, but the truth is that I am the key — I’m just not done being shaped yet.
Platforms matter somewhat, in terms of formatting and accessibility, but what I need to do is write and write and write, and as I do, to put it out in front of an audience; I must see what works for me and what resonates for other people, then reflect and build on that.
And in that process, sure, there’s a benefit to being critical; especially in the editing stage. But while writing and publishing, internal motivation and dedication is the key to long-term stability. Write authentically. Stay aware of your audience, but write for yourself. Realize that most of your work won’t be met by instant or thunderous applause, and that’s entirely fine and expected. Sometimes it will be met with silence, and through all of that — despite all of that — because of all of that — you absolutely must learn to be your own fan, your own cheerleader, your own patron. You should always applaud your own story.
[After every article, I’ll supply a not-necessarily related musical pairing. Your song for today is “Clap Your Hands” by Pale Young Gentlemen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bH_4ZPQ6-Ow]
