"I don't need to write about anything; I guess I just want to." ~Derek
I must have been around ten years old. My grandparents had this huge bay window in their living room that looked out over an old oak tree, which was home to what I can recall as the entire squirrel population in Minnesota. We'd look at their Beagle and yell, "squirrel," and Auggie would jump onto the couch and bark/howl for five minutes straight. I swear he might have been the only dog in history to have laryngitis. It drove my grandmother insane, which is probably why we kept doing it.
But that's not why I remember that window.
I remember it because at night, it turned into a mirror, and my grandfather would stand there and argue with his own reflection. He'd point at himself, talk back to himself, shake his head at himself. Usually, it was about taxes or politics, but now and then, he'd bring up the Minnesota Vikings, which explains a lot if you've ever watched the Vikings long enough.
I don't know how old he was then. Late fifties? He died when I was twenty-two from esophageal cancer. And even though I'm not quite his age yet, here I am at forty-five doing the same thing. I catch myself arguing with my own reflection too, except instead of taxes and politics, it's Big Tech and social media, and yes, still the Vikings. Did you see the beating they took on Sunday from the Seahawks? Embarrassing.
When you look in the mirror, who do you see? What do you see? I used to think I knew, but now I'm not so sure. Because Big Tech and social media? Yeah, I know how pathetic that sounds. What do I care?
I'm not sure how I got here; all I know is that somewhere along the way, I traded curiosity for disdain.
Yet here I am, consuming myself with things that aren't helping me and aren't building anything. It's the same image I had as a kid, watching my grandfather point at himself, except now I'm the one doing it. And the crazy part is, it took a friend pointing it out for me to recognize it finally.
He asked, "Do you make any money doing what you're doing?"
"No," I said, and then I started giving him some long explanation about why I write, which I don't even remember, but I'm sure it sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than him.
I write a newsletter called The Anti-Social Social Media Club. It's built around what I believe to be social media conditioning. People write their own version of a playbook, slap a glossy hook on it, and sell it as Gospel to anyone gullible enough to buy in. I write about it because it bothers me. But more than that, I write because I refuse to sell out, which I know sounds harsh, but for some reason, probably because I was once in their shoes, looking for a way to be heard.
Now, I believe in doing things my own way, on my own terms. I've always likened my writing to standing in front of a disciplinary committee at a Prep School, arguing my case the way Colonel Frank Slade did for Charlie Simms. "Scent of a Woman, Great movie, by the way.
I write about a lot of things I care deeply about. Not just the sales and marketing stuff. I write about Sports and the way athletes see the game from their point of view (Check out The Eagle Tribune when you have a chance). I write about music and pop culture. I write about AI, and my opposition to where it's heading. I write about leadership, not from the viewpoint of "how to become a better one," but from a perspective of what it's not. But mostly, I write about my faith in God. These topics don't always overlap, but they all matter to me-they convict me.
And just like my grandfather, I end up staring at my reflection, talking it out with myself, knowing I can do whatever I want, whether it benefits me or not. The real question I have to answer is simple. Do I believe in it enough to share it? Because if not, what's the point of saying anything at all?
I believe that's where most of us get tripped up. Not in whether something is beneficial or constructive, but in sharing opinions we don't even care about. As my kids would say, "Dad, that's giving major desperation for engagement."
There's so much noise out there competing for our headspace that we confuse noise for necessity. We tell ourselves we have the right to share anything, and we do. But that doesn't make it worthwhile.
For some reason, there's a battle going on in my mind that I can't seem to walk away from. I keep arguing with myself in the mirror, knowing I should leave it alone, yet I don't. The Anti-Social Social Media Club is my outlet to express my disdain for those of us who need social media for our careers, yet find ourselves at a crossroads of wanting to make real connections through the views that we share and the battle against insufferable content.
That’s where the conviction comes from, to push back against this artificial social media conditioning. This idea that if you sign on to a social media cohort, you format the way that you write and start it with a catchy hook and clever call to action, that you'll garner more attention than you would if you just shared a story about something that convicts you. And to be fair, they’re not wrong for doing it. They’re just doing the same thing I’m doing, only they use formulas and I use conviction.
Am I the only one who notices that talking about "how to get engagement on social media" is not the solution for the entrepreneur trying to make a living through it? Suppose you're a recruiter, mortgage loan officer, consultant, real estate agent, or software sales professional, small business owner, or whatever. In that case, the short gain in engagement from following the "LinkedIn Influencer's guide to more impressions" will only do just that...get engagement. The long game, the original story, build your brand, take your time, and a thought-provoking approach will always work, not the shortcut.
If it were, it would just be the way, but it's not.
As for my conviction for things that don't matter...well, I've always said if I could be like anyone in the world, it would be my grandfather, not because I was raised watching him argue with himself in front of a picture window, but because he looked out for everyone.
Thanks for reading my confusing rant.
Derek
"I have the right to do anything," you say, but not everything is beneficial. "I have the right to do anything," but not everything is constructive. 1 Corinthians 10:23
