gru:Bz
Average millennial living life on the edge (of the Midwest). Probably too immature for Micro.blog but I like it here.
What's valuable to you?
I was just reading this Reddit thread about a blogging platform that launched a few years ago. It's grown into a successful space with a thriving community by now, but the comments were kind of cracking me up.
The #1 thing people were focused on back then was how to monetize it.
There's no built-in advertising options and it's really not even set up to run something like Google ads. SEO, maximizing engagement and clicks are not baked in. It's simply a place where indie bloggers can go to share their stories and hang out with other bloggers.
The platform I'm talking about is Bear Blog, which I don't personally use, but it's still an awesome little corner of the small web nonetheless.
But this isn't a post about blogging software...
It's about what you find value in. Do you blog as a career or is it something you do to escape the monotony and struggles of every day life? Do you do it for money or for that feeling you get when even a single person sends you a genuine response?
I've tried both, but this time around I'm realizing community holds much more value than money. For me at least. The quality of my content is better (I think...) because I don't have any predetermined posting schedule and I don't force myself to write X amount of posts every day on specific topics and categories. I don't follow any metrics or analytics. I have no idea how many people actually read what I write. I like it that way.
Since I got on omg.lol and their Mastodon server social.lol I've had more engagement from 20 followers in the last week than I ever did back in the day on Twitter with 3,000+ followers. Or even on Tumblr. I used to run a niche blog over there too. I had a little over 1,000 followers but zero comments on anything and almost no interactions aside from a couple Likes here and there.
It was because I was mistaking arbitrary internet points for actual value. It's not hard to post hyper relatable things, seek out people who are more likely to follow everyone back and repost all your posts. But at what cost?
I'm not new to Mastodon; I migrated there the second I heard about Elon's acquisition of Twitter. I had a similar realization but ultimately fell into the self-inflicted trap of trying to get a bunch of followers. And I kinda did.
Then I deleted it and started over.
Back then, I'd do these rounds of following a shitload of people who looked cool, and then a few days later, filter out everyone who didn't follow me back and unfollow them. What a waste of time. It looks good on paper (I guess?) but over the course of a couple years I'd sunk hours of my free time into making meaningless ratios look more favorable.
I did have a lot of friends there. I'm still trying to find some of them now that I'm back but I'm in no rush. They'll pop up.
I can't speak for the rest of the world, but in 'merica at least, we have this obsession with entrepreneurship. Since we're old enough to talk, we're fed this bullshit story about the American Dream and how everyone has an equal opportunity to become a filthy stinking rich businessperson. Grind every day at the expense of your relationships and mental health and you'll become the next dickhead rich guy with a yacht docked in the Atlantic and one for the Pacific, too.
So many people have it stuck in their head that the only reason to start a blog or website is ultimately to keep fresh content in stock so you have a constant stream of ad space. I still struggled with that idea when I decided to start blogging again earlier this year. It felt great to get my ideas out there but I still felt weighed down by the idea that I somehow must find a way to make money doing this. Luckily that only lasted for a split second.
I was already reaping the value. Almost immediately. Money will always be a struggle at times, but participating in a friendly community will never be. Money is just one tiny aspect of life. Ideas and relationships are another - and a little bigger, if you ask me.