“You inspired me to start a blog. Do you have any tips?”

I was paid this very unexpected, very flattering compliment last week. 

In this business, you pour out a little of your soul, maybe get a couple of likes, and everyone moves on. That’s the trap of analytics: I’ve become a slave to pageviews. I start to believe the only thing that matters is quantity and that the only people who are reading are those dropping the likes. I’m a failure if I don’t amass an audience that matches or exceeds last week’s total. But, it turns out there are a few people who check in and silently root me on. Silent, until they reach out. 

Hearing the compliment was a sip of chicken soup for my soul.

Writing as openly as I do is difficult. I fear upsetting people I’ve worked with. They could take my stories as veiled jabs. “Hey, I worked with him at one of those jobs where he felt unfulfilled. Am I the asshole he’s referring to? Well fuck him!”

I also fear chasing away people who might consider hiring me. “I was about to make him a job offer, but whoa. This guy is a malcontent, and he curses! I’m not going to be the subject of his next tell-all, S-bomb-riddled nightmare job story.” That’s probably fair.

I’d title the story of my career in 2020 Dr. Strangejob or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love How I Feel. 

I find embracing this kind of honesty has a double effect.

1. Out with the bad fits. Hey, I’m a human who experiences life in nuances. We all are. None of the jobs I’ve had were completely awesome nor absolutely shitty. There are always pros and cons. Life isn’t binary. If you feel personally offended by my writing, perhaps you doth protest too much. And I will readily admit my own failings along the way. If you are thinking of hiring me but are turned off by my frankness, that’s your prerogative. Maybe that’s best for both of us.
2. This is for the real ones. My goal isn’t to offend, it’s to attract the like-minded. My readers tend to relate to my circumstances and find universal truths in my takeaways. Since I started getting more honest, I’ve connected with several strangers on LinkedIn. About six months ago, one of those strangers offered me a job. Another has expressed interest. By far, these have been the most promising job leads I’ve found this year amidst a smoldering pile of traditional job applications. These blog-generated opportunities are doubly compelling because they seem far more interested in me as a person than those who pick me from a stack of resumes.

Are any cool people still alive?

My blog has confirmed a philosophy I’ve pushed everywhere I’ve worked: authenticity. 

“Authenticity” sounds played-out. Everyone instinctively says “Yes, of course I want it!” but committing to it is a challenge. It requires discomfort, going against your instincts, and a willingness to be vulnerable. Writing what you think you’re supposed to say comes with less anxiety, but you may miss the opportunity to rise above everyone else who plays it safe. 

Think about SEO. You can optimize the hell out of your website and rank No. 1 on Google, but if your message isn’t compelling, all your visitors will leave. It’s like a house with great curb appeal that is infested with cockroaches and dry rot. You may get me in the door, but I’m not staying.

Think about social. I’d rather have 1,000 rabid fans than one million loose followers. Rabid fans are ride-or-die. Casual followers bounce without a second thought.

I want to make meaningful connections with cool people, not mine the most likes from an audience who could give a shit. So I will continue to do my thing by writing from the soul, even if it means getting a little ugly.

If you’re thinking of starting your own blog, I encourage you to get in that space where some people may not like what you have to say. I promise you others will love it. 

Now start writing.

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