Stop Sitting Alone At The Digital Table
When your invitation never shows up, show up anyway.
Last week, I swore I saw Rick Rubin on the side of the highway. Yes, 8x Grammy award-winning music producer Rick Rubin. When I’d told my partner, Isobel, she asked if I was sure it wasn’t “just an older white guy with a beard?”
That was a fair point. I’d held the same skepticism of myself at the time, too. We were on our way out of town for the weekend, and from the passenger seat, Isobel was queuing music for us to listen to. Cell service was a bit spotty but, luckily, she’d found a playlist of Classic Roadtrip Songs saved in my Spotify library. So on it went.
It feels harder than ever to be seen for who you are.
Tom Petty, who notably worked with Rick Rubin, started playing through the speakers.
I’d just been reminded of the man sauntering down the median of I89. He’d seemed unfazed as cars whizzed past. Lost in thought, his wispy, white hair and lengthy beard had been blowing haphazardly around the shoulders of his T-shirt. Up ahead, there’d been a lime-green sports car parked along the median. And I’d watched as he made his way toward the wide-open driver’s side door.
Weird.
“But you’re right” I’d said to Isobel, “it could’ve been anyone.” A beard and a sports car are hardly identifying criteria for a person… but it really made me think hard about anonymity. The fact that I couldn’t tell if it’d been Rick Rubin or not was case-in-point, as far as I was concerned. After all, recognition has become currency—we’re living through an era of personally-branded social climbing unlike any other in history.
Having at least one social media profile has become expected for anyone looking to participate in society.
The pressure to be seen is enormous. For many of us, one online account doesn’t feel like enough to be visible. And at the same time, it also feels like too much to maintain. No?
Just me?
Ok, well… since the birth of social media, we’ve been told it’s the new gold rush. But Albert Gorithm is a total dick (you can call him Al). That guy’s playing God with who gets to see what you post. He and his AI buddies are slinging their services to the highest bidder (yes, of course the algorithm’s a dude… c’mon).
“Pick yourself up by your bootstraps” has metastasized into “just hit publish.” Swarms of people are confused about why they’re struggling to be seen online. This dangling carrot is why so many of us are frustrated. We’re told “anyone can grow a following online” and that “people will engage once you hit ‘post.’” But that’s a lie, and we’ve all accepted it without question.
That idea launched Isobel and I into a conversation about content creators and the fight to get noticed in this vast, digital sea of sameness. I used my podcast as an example. In the time since launching it 6 months ago, I already approach the editing process very differently from when I’d started.
“Sure, I remove some of the filler words, but not all of them” I’d told her. Mulling it over, I’d added “I mean, I do try to clean up spots where we talk over one another, or abruptly change topics… stuff like that.”
Here’s where we found ourselves with completely differing perspectives, though.
“I think people want to listen to real conversations” she’d said. “Overly polished or cleaned up stuff turns people off—all of our bullshit detectors are too good.”
The internet is not an even playing field for introverts and extroverts.
I haven’t read his book yet, but I’m familiar with Rick Rubin’s creative philosophy. I really dig it. He’s described his role in music production more like that of an archaeologist than a contractor, helping artists uncover what’s already within them rather than trying to over-engineer something from nothing.
Isobel’s comment about peoples’ bullshit detectors reminded me of the Kennedy-Nixon presidential debates of 1960. They’re a famous example of distorted public perception. According to a scholarly analysis of the debates done by Purdue, people who’d listened to the radio broadcast were more likely to vote for Nixon while people who’d watched on TV were more likely to vote for Kennedy. Turns out, appearance mattered—Nixon had sounded more confident than he’d looked, and Kennedy had looked more likable than he’d sounded.
Learning to interpret body language, tone, context, and syntax are critical functions of being a person. It’s part of how we as humans have evolved, but we’re still in the infancy of learning how to do it digitally.
Showing up online without interacting is like going to a dinner party without talking to anyone.
We think we have all the access in the world… we do and we don’t.
The issue conveniently overlooked by creatives is that social media is social first. I know, I hate this truth as much as you do. Part of why this makes so many of us groan is because we know when we’re being perceived incorrectly. We can tell when people stop paying attention to what we’re saying in conversation. So people try to present polished versions of themselves, hoping they’ll be received better. Then they hit “publish,” nothing happens, and they feel misunderstood all over again.
I’ve been there many, many times. Fighting the urge to do that is a muscle that needs regular exercise. Alas, there are plenty of gurus out there who have built careers on telling people how to gain social media followings. It’s a distant relative to the sales methodology of the tupperware party.
For social media gurus, it all comes back to communication—structuring what you say for maximum attention.
I admit, I’ve tried many of their methods. I’ve taken their courses and joined their groups. And the thing I’ve discovered is that they all contradict each other. Because they, understandably, teach what worked for them.
Turns out, there’s more than one way to do it.
If you try to follow all of their advice, you end up erasing your own voice. What you’re left with is some cobbled-together version of theirs. You might be proud of the bits and pieces you’ve collected along the way and the work you’ve put into bettering yourself, but what most people see feels more like Frankenstein’s monster.
Authenticity + outreach is what will actually create resonance. The same people who tell you to write like no one’s watching will tell you to make it appealing for cold readers in the same breath—to be yourself, but only if it gets clicks.
And those kinds of mental gymnastics are total bullshit.
We manufacture storylines we think will resonate with others.
I’m admittedly a recovering content-polisher. So, after puling my thoughts together (lol), I pushed back gently on what Isobel had shared about cleaned-up content.
“For people who are already comfortable sharing who they are, unpolished content works” I’d said, “...because their core message is woven into the mess.” I paused while Runnin' Down A Dream kept playing quietly in the background.
I was trying to remember the times where I’d felt like I needed to say exactly the right thing. A highlight reel of pressurized situations flashed through my brain: meetings, dates, job interviews… and one very regretful, teenaged encounter where I’d talked behind someone’s back, only to discover they’d been in the bathroom stall listening the whole time.
Then, it hit me.
“You know when you start talking and you can feel the moment when you lose someone’s attention?” I’d asked.
“Sure” she nodded, looking over at me.
“Well,” I followed up my original question, “I spent most of my life trying to front-load that moment.”
She blinked.
“I’ve tried every way you can think of to share information with someone. It’s like preparing for a debate… I look for how to get to the point before they tune out—before I get dismissed—and that’s what trips me up the most.” I’d let out a long exhale before continuing.
“It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy—you start many threads of the same story, but never end up tying them together.”
And that’s why I think there’s a barrier to entry for sharing online.
Hitting publish and having people engage is an introvert’s fantasy, but it’s not what really happens.
Isobel and I both agreed the answer is counterintuitive: stop trying to be seen and start helping other people feel seen instead.
Steal Rick Rubin’s approach and look for who you already are, instead of what you think you need to be. The key is to then lead with what you find to bond with others.
We think the reason people see stuff online is quality, but connection is actually what creates visibility. Yes, the social media seating chart looks overwhelmingly intimidating, but the thing nobody tells you is that there’s no assigned seating. Yes, being yourself is scary. No, convincing people you belong won’t work. You have to connect. To be seen you have to bond, not broadcast.
Pull up a chair.
Then, tell me: what’s something you’re working on right now that absolutely lights you up when you talk about it?
onward.
P.S. If someone came to mind while reading, ask them the same question about what lights them up. When they get confused, send them this essay.