Signing Off Social Media

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I left social media for more than 30 days. I left because I realized that my thoughts were no longer entirely my own. The sanctity of my head had been violated. The worst part was that I allowed it to happen.

I permitted the app makers and advertisers to attempt (and in some cases succeed) in redirecting my thoughts, emotions, and intentions. Let’s call this what it is: mind control. 

My attention span had eroded. I could kill an hour scrolling deep into my Instagram feed searching for … what, exactly? I’m still not sure. I think I was looking for something to make me feel better when I should have been working toward feeling better. 

I had decided to take a break before I started reading Cal Newport’s Digital Minimalism, but the book sealed the deal. In fact, if it weren’t for my chosen line of work, I don’t think I’d be on social media at all, knowing what I know now.

The case for leaving social media

Paraphrasing Newport, we’re sold the notion that social media fosters connection and community-building. This is half true. The other half of the truth is that social media fosters addiction. Social media apps are painstakingly designed attention traps. They play off of our neurochemistry like dopamine-releasing drugs. The reasoning is simple: money. Social media companies make more money the more you interact with their products. Their apps are incentivized to be addicting.

The mental clarity of the past social-media-free month is almost too alluring to pass up, even for professional reasons. The past 30 days have been some of the happiest and most productive I can remember. I’ve spent quality time with my wife, finished several short stories, read hundreds of pages, and managed to complete enough work to take two luxurious weeks of vacation at the beach. My attention span, which traditionally has been one of my greatest assets, is back to pre-smartphone levels.

Why I chose to return

So, why am I back? If you’re like most of the people who read this blog, you’ve probably landed here after clicking on a social media link. Writers need to be where readers are. I started this blog with the intention of helping others by sharing the lessons I’ve learned the hard way. Those lessons are useless if they’re launched into the void.

Today’s lesson is that the way I was using social media was wasting my time, diluting my attention, and making me unhappy. Maybe you feel the same way. Maybe you can handle social media. You need to ask yourself two questions: 

  1. What is social media doing to me?

  2. How could I use social media better?

Here’s where I landed in thinking about those two questions. Maybe social media is doing nothing to you. I know now that it wasn’t working for me. Yet, I know that I need to be here (at least for the time being) to accomplish my goals. So, how do I make better use of social media? How do I use social media in a way that’s healthy and morally and/or ethically sound?

My new policy

Social media is now a part of my workday. I’ve blocked out time to respond to messages, check notifications, and post content, like the link that brought you to this blog post. Any other time of day, there’s nobody home. 

It would be hypocritical to write about the drawbacks of social media but simultaneously advocate for you to be on here. That’s why I’m giving you -- and I’ll be honest, me too -- the out of signing up for a mailing list. I’ll send you an email when new posts go up, and you’ll never have to be on social media to find this content ever again. Your privacy will be sacrosanct. I’ll never give away or sell your email address. 

The end goal is to amass enough newsletter subscribers so I no longer need to be on social media at all, and you no longer need to be on it to find my writing. You can sign up for the mailing list here.

What you should do next

Evaluate how you’re using social media, paying particular attention to how it affects your real-life, in-person interactions with people. The photographer Eric Pickersgill’s recent project, Removed, highlights the absurdity of our current relationship with technology. 

When I first saw Pickersgill’s photos, the hollowness of our relationship to our devices landed like a Thai kick to the body. I also thought about how our addiction could be an indicator of increasing narcissism. Photoshop out the phone and replace it with a mirror and the photos work just as well.

I think, however, that the most painful realization that I derived from this photo project was how easily I could have been on the other side of the lens, distracted, diluted, depressed, staring into my technological reflection and wondering why I feel the way I do. 

I’m done with that.

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Learning What Not To Do

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There are undeniable advantages in going first. Whether you’re the first kid in class to present his project, or the maker of the first smartphone, pioneers possess the ability to set standards. They face the freedom of zero or flexible expectations. Pioneers can relax a bit, knowing that there’s a greater tolerance for error.

Growing up, I often took advantage of being first. I suppose this is natural for the oldest child, but even in school or in sports, there were many quantifiable advantages to being first that I saw. Emphasis on quantifiable. I had a proclivity toward results -- the more immediate the better. Immediate gains, limited though they might be, were gains nonetheless.

I had the nasty habit of being what Josh Waitzkin refers to in The Art of Learning as an entity theorist. Entity theorists, Waitzkin explains, tend to have the mindset of being innately good or bad at something. They know their strengths and they play to them.

They also tend to lack resilience. They cannot, as Waitzkin says, invest in loss. Entity theorists like me avoid what they don’t perceive themselves to be good at because the pain of defeat shatters them. I usually chose to go first because it increased my odds of looking favorable in the teacher’s eyes and consequently, getting the A that I wanted.

Learning theorists are the opposite of entity theorists. Waitzkin explains that they tend to have the mindset of, “I won because I work hard.” Or, in the face of failure, “If I want to win next time, I need to work harder.” Innate ability is less important to them. Learning theorists believe any skill can be acquired with a long enough timeline.

Looking back on my school days, the learning theorists tended to present toward the back half of middle. They had the benefit of learning from my mistakes and of the others that followed. Yes, they still wanted to win the A grade, but they were motivated by something deeper: mastery. They were more motivated by learning the incremental steps and processes that make excellence, though they might not be aware of it.

As I’ve aged, I’ve steadily transformed myself from an entity theorist to a learning theorist. There has been nothing better for this than Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. The mindset is serving me particularly well in my work. A prime example showed up this morning on the digital front page of the New York Times.

Data has never been more valuable. It’s awfully tempting to develop some busch league weather app in order to siphon location data to the highest bidder. The easier path is a temptation that Google appears to be wrestling with daily basis. I’m old enough to remember the days of Google’s internal “Don’t be evil” slogan. Well, it’s officially gone from the company’s code of conduct. I suppose caving to a historically oppressive government’s censorship needs precludes a company from being evil.

Here’s where being a learning theorist pays off: We have ample time to study the mistakes of others, learning what not to do. Whatever advantage is lost in not being first can be gained by learning what not to do. The examples abound, we just need to tune in and not be so hyper focused on immediate results.

Finding and Following Your Personal Legend

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I am my own worst saboteur. But I’m pushing past it.

My new job title feels overblown, but I claim it anyway: CEO. It’s been a long, difficult journey to get here. I’m now a small-business owner, entrepreneur, captain of my ship, and also chief cook & bottle washer.

My desire to do what I consider to be meaningful work has been alive since I realized my occupational purpose in college. But I stalled, delayed, and intentionally detoured. It was easier at the height of the Great Recession to become a copy editor than it was to work a beat as a reporter. It became a pattern for the years to follow as a professional: pursuing what was expedient, not what was meaningful.

Only now, though, do I realize that the biggest saboteur of my dream of a meaningful career was me. Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist crystalized it for me.

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation,” the King of Salem tells the young shepherd, Santiago.

I had ignored my destiny, or what Coelho calls a Personal Legend, because I didn’t believe in what I had to offer to the world. I didn’t believe that I was good enough, smart enough, hard-working enough, or capable enough to go out on my own and survive.

Learning from a conscious competitor

I’m fortunate to be surrounded by some remarkable people, one of whom is my jiu jitsu instructor, Emily Kwok, who recently took home another world championship. She had mentioned to me some time ago that The Alchemist was one of her favorite books and I made a mental note to read it. When she won the gold a few weeks ago, I texted her and told her that she is the ultimate badass, and that it was inspirational to watch her pursue her own Personal Legend.

At the time, I was unaware of just how much of her own self doubt she had to overcome to get to that point, a topic which she explores in this inspirational post. Even world champions, it seems, have their own brushes with self doubt and self sabotage. Her words made me realize just how much damage I had done to myself.

It took a year for me to finally step out on my own professionally, and it was a difficult year. I had a full-time job that was reasonably demanding, plus the task of getting my company off the ground. For better or worse, I allowed myself no wiggle room in my training schedule either. But when I finally took the leap into self-employment, I was surprised.

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it,” Coelho writes.

I’m not entirely sure if the universe is playing an active role here, but all I can say is that as soon as I left my job and ventured out on my own, opportunities began to appear, one of which is so awesome it still doesn’t seem real to me. It seemed like by deciding I was good enough, and by shifting my mindset from scarcity to abundance, the entire weight of the universe -- or at least my little corner of it -- shifted. I had and have momentum. The setbacks, so far, are just that -- setbacks.

I know it won’t always be like this. I know there will be, as always, struggle. But I know now that I’m good enough and I’m worthy. And I know that no matter what happens, it’s all pushing me toward my Personal Legend.

Of interest

The Liminal Artist: The Many Lives and Works of Val Emmich

Photo by Andrew Holtz

Photo by Andrew Holtz

Val Emmich will not be put in a box. His most recent novel, The Reminders, which will be available in paperback later this month, weaves a tale of healing and a search for understanding through the eyes and mind of a girl with infallible memory. It’s now available in paperback. If you haven’t read Val’s prose, you’ve likely seen him on shows such as 30 Rock, Ugly Betty and Vinyl. Val is also a musical force, creating songs that get their hooks in you and hit hard with their immediacy.

Since hearing Val’s indie rock powerhouse Sunlight Searchparty in 2006, I’ve been blown away by his ability to convey the human experience in seemingly whatever form he wanted. What follows is a window into his methods, philosophy and process.

Modern artists seem to be encouraged, whether it’s consciously or unconsciously, to pick an art form and stick to it. As a musician, actor, and writer, what has driven you to work across so many forms?

I felt that same pressure to pick a lane for most of my career. But at some point, I had to accept reality: I do lots of different things. So be it. When I was only focusing on a music career (which I attempted first, before the acting and writing), it was taboo to be anything other than a musician. Being an actor? Forget it. That was career suicide. No one felt you had integrity as a musician if you were an actor. This was the Nineties. Things are a lot different now. No one cares. For me, it wasn't calculated. I fell into acting while attending college and I had some early luck and was able to pay my bills by landing commercials. Then I caught the bug and wanted to take the craft more seriously. Writing fiction was always something I wanted to try but it was more of a distant, dormant desire--until it wasn't. There's a pressure in our society, not just in art, to be one thing. A teacher. A lawyer. I'm a hyphenated person. I am many things. I'm interested in many different areas and I'm really lucky that I've been able to explore a few of those as careers.

What did it take for you, emotionally and mentally, to part ways with Epic and step out on your own as an independent musician? What did that feel like? How has it informed the rest of your career in not just music, but everything else?

I was heartbroken when my contract with Epic went sour. I mean, honestly, I was damaged. I received a phone call from my manager who told me that after I had just spent the last six months writing songs with hitmakers around the country--something I didn't want to do but which ended up being a great learning experience--and after wasting tens of thousands of dollars on travel and recording and audience testing, the president of the company believed that I still didn't have a "hit" and I should write more. I got that call and I burst into tears. I had been pushed so far from who I thought I was, and for what? I played their game and it led me nowhere. I was so angry, I begged my lawyer to get me off the label. I still had an album I owed them, but my lawyer negotiated it so they had to pay me to leave. It was a real bright side to the nightmare. I took the money and I made the album Sunlight Searchparty, which was for me a statement record. I needed to make that album probably more than any other album I've ever made. Maybe Aide Memoire comes in second in that regard. Just making art in a specific way because it felt true to my heart. I've done it that way ever since but the urgency I felt back then after failing on a major...it felt like life or death. Ever since then I've pretty much been left to make art on my own terms. It's good and bad. I still have regret. My dream as a teenager was to be playing my songs in stadiums. I thought signing to a major would bring me one step closer, but obviously, in the scheme of things, I never really got anywhere close to realizing that dream. Those days still haunt me.

What did your writing process look like for The Reminders? What does it look like for a song? Do the two inform each other? Is your acting background in the mix, too?

With songwriting, I'm not very disciplined. I don't usually sit down with the express intention of writing a song. Rather, songs just come out of me when they're ready to come out. I can go months without writing a single song and then write five in a day. It's that unpredictable. It doesn't have to be that way, but I've found that the best songs come out when I don't force them. But you can't do that with something like a novel. You can't just sit around and wait for the muse to come. You'll never finish. There's a saying among writers: Put your butt in the seat. When I was writing my novel, I had to treat it like a job. I had to force myself to sit down and work, even when I wasn't in the mood. Because I was responsible for a young child when I began writing the book, I'd have to wake up at 4:30 in the morning to write before she awoke each day. I needed those few hours to myself, just creating, so that I could deal with being a father for the rest of the day.

One of my main characters is an actor and the other is a songwriter. Plus, much of the book has to do with writing a song, so I definitely used what I know for the story. I had written two previous books that didn't ever see the light of day and I think part of the reason why they didn't work was because I was shying away from aspects of my own life. With The Reminders, I used parts of my reality. It seemed to work.

I suspect, like most artists, you've had to cope with failure and rejection. How have you done it? What works for you? And how has failure influenced you as an artist?

I touched on this in one of my earlier answers. It's weird for me. I'm pretty traumatized by failure and yet I don't let it slow me down. I go on auditions for acting all the time and 99% of the time I get rejected. It's a terrible feeling every single time. But I keep going and I keep trying to come up with new ways of failing. In fact, that exact feeling is what inspired a song I wrote called "Resume" from the album, Looking For A Feeling You Never Knew You Needed. Tangent, sorry. Anyway, sometimes I think I'm really pathetic for not quitting long ago. I want to be the best, and when that's your goal, failure is almost a mathematical certainty. Only one of us gets to be the best at any one thing and many times "the best" is a subjective determination. But I know that failure is part of any success story. I try to remind myself of that when I'm feeling optimistic. And I also remind myself that success is a word with varied definitions.

What is your biggest fear as an artist, or biggest vulnerability?

I'm still susceptible to what other people think of me and my art. I think that's a real vulnerability: caring what others think. At the same time, though, I think that helps me make art that hopefully speaks to people. I'm aware of an audience. I want it to be a conversation between me and them and not just me talking to myself. I guess my biggest fear is being ignored. I'm not sure, though. I have many fears.

You can only take one book, one record, one movie, and one guitar (and amp, if it's electric) to a desert island (that apparently has electricity). What are they and why have you selected them?

I'm not good at these types of questions. To make it easier, I randomly picked a year (1997) and limited my answers to releases from that year. For my book, I'll take Don DeLillo's Underworld; it's a long one and will keep me plenty busy. I'll bring Boogie Nights to watch; Paul Thomas Anderson is one of my favorite filmmakers and that movie just keeps on giving. For my record, Radiohead's OK Computer came to mind first, but I'm going to leave that one home. I'll need something to lift my spirits so I'm going with Pavement's Brighten The Corners. Guitar? Doesn't matter. Something that can hopefully withstand the elements.

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