Did you miss me?
Yes, it is Friday, and this newsletter usually comes out on Thursday. SCANDAL!
Yes, that’s right. I forgot to write a newsletter this week. It’s been a busy few weeks, and in my recovery from all that, I neglected to write my weekly newsletter this past Tuesday.
You feel betrayed, I get it.
Every Thursday you wait with bated breath, clutching your preferred method of electronic mail delivery in your clammy hands, constantly refreshing until 8am PST when that sweet, sweet Tyler knowledge comes barreling into your inbox.
And this week, it didn’t happen.
You were crushed, I know.
I’m so sorry I let you down.
It won’t happen again (probably).
Substack tells me I’ve put out 75 newsletters on their platform—not including this one. That’s 75 straight weeks of newsletters every Thursday. 1.5 years. Much longer than that, actually, when you account for past weekly blogs and newsletters I’ve done over the last 15 years. When I realized yesterday afternoon that I’d forgotten to put it out, I swore aloud (scandalous, I know). The client I was training inquired as to why I was cussing, and I mentioned that I forgot to put out my newsletter this week.
“Not that anyone will notice” was my typical self-deprecating comment. Instead of feeding into my insecurities with some empty compliment or hollow reassurance, they replied with something like “you do it for your own satisfaction, huh?”
My initial response was one of denial—no, I do it to spread iNfORmaTioN 🙄. Then I gave a weak explanation of having a “digital footprint” and being “visible” on the internet as a professional in my field.
That held some water, but then I started to ramble about legacy, which is kind of a hilarious thought if you think about the ephemeral nature of the digital world, and how much digital refuse is piled up beneath us at this very moment: decades of websites, blogs, youtube videos, and social media posts languishing in the unseen depths of the internet.
Going viral—or gaining any type of exposure via the internet—has become the new celebrity, and we all (or maybe just me) covet that fame, however fleeting. I tell myself I don’t, but since approximately 50% (possibly more) of my livelihood relies on internet presence, I do, whether conscious or unconscious.
Maybe I post for exposure. Maybe I do it for self-satisfaction. In reality it’s probably some unglamorous combination of the two. At this point I consider it part of my job, even if it generates no direct revenue. Maybe it’s just checking a box, but that’s okay, because that counts for something, too.
This is the point where I should probably make some fitness analogy, but you can make that connection on your own, if you really want to. I’m going to go outside, because it is Friday, and the weather is nice.
See you next week (for real this time).
I notice. And I care.
But damn, do I understand that feeling. The ole "IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE?"
I can't speak for others, but I know there are so many things that I don't comment on to say "Thank you, I love this!" even when I do, even knowing how important it is.
The hardest part about being a steady, good, and consistent essayist is the difficulty in knowing that a smooth-sailing ship is one that won't necessarily get many hollers.
But it is valued, and I look forward to it every week.
Which doesn't mean don't miss one. Rest, of course, as needed, and life happens. I mean more to say that it's always fun, always good, always worthwhile. To this guy, anyway.
Self satisfaction always works to motivate me….just enjoy the moment. Don’t forget writing next week though. A little satisfaction only goes so far with your fans!! 🤣