Leave room for the amateur

You scroll on Instagram and see someone promoting their new podcast, with perfectly cohesive graphics. Or you click on some photographer’s portfolio and browse an extensive list of impressive clients. You come across an influencer on the explore page who has 300,000 followers, 4 exciting job titles, and who appears to live in 5 different cities. Or maybe you’re on a new acquaintance’s website, which is perfectly optimized with strong branding, professional imagery, and a user-friendly interface.

It seems that everyone, at least on the internet, has it all figured out. But what you don’t see past those perfect exteriors is the journey they took to get there, and in all likelihood, the journey they're still on. What we see online is often the end result. Just like same-day Amazon deliveries, likes on social media, or Uber Eats delivering food right to our door, we've gotten used to things happening at an instant. The journey is erased, and we expect to see this faultless end-product immediately with whatever it is we're working on. And oftentimes, so do the people around us. 

I remember when I went freelance and got my first few clients. At the jump, family and friends alike asked if I’d start an agency, when I’d create a website, and what I’d name my business. I was just starting out on my own and people already expected me to have some master plan for my career. But I wanted to take it day-by-day. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. I wanted to work on the services that I was providing instead of working on what would look impressive to other people. I had worked for start-ups and agencies that had focused on the latter and while it may have looked good from the outside, it didn’t work so well on the inside. I know creatives who have done the same - who have beefed up their websites with skills and accomplishments that they didn’t actually have - and I didn’t want that for myself.

Five years later, I still don’t have an agency or a name for my business and I have an amateur website that I know doesn’t showcase my work as well as it could. But by not focusing so much on the optics of my business, I was able to focus more on ideating and executing impactful initiatives, which allowed me to build a roster of clients I’m proud of – purely by word of mouth recommendations. By not limiting myself to projects that looked impressive from the outside, I worked on an array of projects that challenged me, humbled me, helped me grow my skill set, and provided me with the clarity to know what I wanted and didn’t want to take on moving forward. There are a multitude of ways to build a career, and I don’t think you have to choose between doing good work and being good at marketing yourself, but I do think that – on the internet – it can be easy to get your priorities confused. 

Even as an influencer, I remember seeing peers amp up their strategies - figuring out the best digital cameras to shoot on, hiring the best photographers, signing with known talent agencies, creating websites that showcased their most noteworthy brand partners, putting together beautiful media decks and one-sheets that would best pitch them to sponsors. While I absolutely see the benefits of these things, I didn’t feel like that method worked for me. I liked shooting casually on an iPhone, I liked having direct contact and communication with the brand managers who reached out to me, I liked taking a more relaxed approach to the world of influencing because I was still figuring out if it was even the path for me. I didn’t want to go all in and put my energy and resources into something I wasn’t completely sure I was going to do. I enjoyed seeing where it would go without the pressure of a manager I’d have to report to or a one-sheet declaring my analytics.

I remember once listening to advice from a talent manager at a big influencer agency who suggested I share political articles on my platform in a “more digestible way” – she told me to choose a day of the week and package them in a round-up so it wouldn’t be so “jarring” to my audience. I took her advice, for one day, and went back to the way I was sharing – when I saw fit. Her way felt unnatural to me - the happenings in the world and in politics always feels pretty jarring in the midst of the real-life moments we live in. Whether hearing about it, experiencing it, or sharing it, it almost never feels like the right time for any of it. I’m sure if I’d followed her advice for longer it could have benefitted me in some way – made me look less “amateur” and more buttoned up – but as long as I’m following my instincts, I’m okay with looking amateur.

When I began Seen Library, a community for readers and book lovers, I almost fell into that common trap - the trap of thinking of how something will be perceived instead of thinking of what I actually wanted to do with it. Initially, I had grand ideas for Seen Library - ideas that would look impressive on paper and to the public, and ideas that were centered on making money – which is how we're often told to measure something's value and worth. Quickly, I had to scratch those ideas from my brain because I saw how it was affecting the fun of what Seen Library was supposed to be for me. My initial ideas were too big, too overwhelming - so much so, that it made me dread even starting it to begin with. So I went back to square one. I simply made an Instagram account for it, and told myself that I would see where it led me and let it evolve with no plan in mind. I then began sharing the book exchanges I was having with my friends, which became more frequent and eventually led to hosting book drives. After seeing those two facets of Seen Library, a brand reached out to me to do an online pop-up to sell curated books. From there, I gained the confidence to ask a friend if she’d be open to me hosting an in-person pop-up at her store. And while from the outside it may have seemed seamless and picture perfect, in reality, for me, it was another part of the learning process of what Seen Library could be. It had incredible, fulfilling moments - opportunities to meet new people, connecting others through the love of books, an outpouring of support - and it also had its learning lessons. I didn’t expect books would sell out before the last day and realized I may have underestimated the desire for what Seen Library has to offer. While monetary gain wasn’t a goal, I also didn’t expect to lose money on the project, which taught me that next time, I have to improve my efficiency and expenses. At the end of it all, though, it was one of the most fulfilling and rewarding weekends of my life. I was proud of myself for putting something out there - no matter how imperfect - because I gave myself the opportunity to at least try.

When I first shared Seen Library over a year ago, I was asked what it is, what it will be. Just today, I was asked what my goals for Seen Library are. The answer is the same for both questions: I don’t know. And I like not knowing. It allows the freedom to play, to experiment, to enjoy the journey and the process without the pressures I may have had if I’d put so much money and energy perfecting the image of it – or if I had the expectation that I could only start something if I first had some master plan.

"When I began Seen Library… my initial ideas were too big, too overwhelming - so much so, that it made me dread even starting it to begin with. So I went back to square one."

Even now, with this newsletter… I remember when Ford and I began telling our friends about it and were immediately met with suggestions - to do this, to do that, to market it like this, to pitch it to that media publication, to make it a weekly podcast. What was supposed to be a cathartic outlet for the conversations we were having started to feel like this heavy undertaking. This thing we were excited about began to feel like another job, another goal we had to hit, another commodity we had to perfect, another thing that we may grow to resent. After an open and honest conversation, we had come to an agreement: that we would keep it low-stakes, take it day-by-day, and work on it in the way that it felt instinctively right to us as people - no strict cadence, no stringent post frequency, no numerical or analytical expectations. Consequently, this project has started to feel more alive. It's imperfect and it has limitations – just like Ford and I – and we think there's value in that, and in having the space to grow and evolve.

After working on a recent audio piece, Ford messaged me: The ending isn’t perfect but I’ll go crazy if I spend any more time on this. So embrace the amateur.

I replied: Everything I’ve done this year is amateur and I’m happier for it.

So I’ll leave you with this last reminder: Leave room for the amateur. And embrace it. In a time when the internet compels you to look perfectly packaged up, ready-to-sell, and fully realized, push back on it. Instead, make space for yourself to grow and find your way and develop organically. See the benefits in not being so sure, so established. See how the need to be perfect or make comparisons with others who seem to have it all figured out often paralyzes us and prevents us from starting at all. See how letting go of those things can lead to improvement, growth, and even fun.