Shoulding all over myself

I should finally succumb to TikTok. No, actually, I should just be sharing on Instagram more. But if I do that then I should make reels instead of uploading carousels, right? Actually, I know, I should just outsource my social media altogether! But then, shouldn’t I be more established before I make that kind of financial commitment? Wait, I should be monetising my newsletters on Substack again! That’ll pay for this hypothetical social media manager! Yet, if I do that, then I should be writing for it weekly and creating decent bonus content otherwise it won’t sustain itself. Regardless, I’m in my luteal phase this week, so shouldn’t I be working on admin and organising instead of launching a new newsletter? Actually, if I really want to be a real deal, proper, US-based author, then maybe I should  just move to New York, attend literary events every night, and replace my wardrobe of sun dresses with black turtlenecks, shouldn’t I?

Above is the voice in my head I call Ms Should. Ms Should is louder than she ought to be. Opinionated yet uninformed. In fact she’s not at all in tune with what I need to hear. Instead she’s a meddling relative, a bore who corners you at the cocktail party, the voice of that stroppy, overly dogmatic primary school teacher who quelled your creativity as a child.

She’s many things, but she’s not actually me. And she’s not you either.

When I reflect on my past five years of self-employment, I realise that for most of that half-decade, I have been shoulding all over myself.

I’ve spent whole afternoons attempting to edit videos on my tiny phone. I’ve launched a Substack successfully, but fought with my natural rhythms in order to sustain the volume of content production it required. I’ve made a few TikTok videos, sure, yet immediately after uploading them I lost interest in that sugar-coated platform altogether.

I’ve pitched myself all over the place to traditional media outlets, usually to no avail. I’ve even spent a month living in New York, turtleneck and all, realising that while it is undoubtedly one of my favourite cities in the world, I have no desire to live there full time. I simply love the sun too much.

In a bid to break this cycle I have been delving Deep into the Work of Cal Newport. He’s the guy that got me off Instagram while I attended a rural writers residency earlier this year. He even had me turn off my phone for five days during a recent week away with my husband. I don’t know him personally, but he is the esteemed author, professor and deep work expert who’s making me, and many others, see that maybe social media isn’t actually necessary to building an audience. And that perhaps a lovely little, no-strings newsletter is the solution to my specific set of the shoulds. 

So, welcome to my brand new, refreshingly infrequent, gentle, and forever free newsletter. This is a place where we can all keep in touch, slow down, and show our Ms Should’s where the door is.

I picked this platform, a free newsletter, because, A) I like writing more than I like most things, in that I like the thought of doing something I enjoy as I work to connect with readers and clients. B) Now that I’ve been weening off Instagram I don’t want to spend more than an extra 30 seconds on there (or anywhere else classed as social media for that matter) which leads me to… C) Here I’m not contending with any kind of insatiable algorithm - or if I am, I’m blissfully unaware of it.

Instead this is a place where I’m am gathering you, past clients and readers, people I already know, and keeping you all updated and amused when it’s actually necessary. 

Sure, one of my ultimate aims with this newsletter is to get off the Gram for good. But first and foremost it’s to offer anyone interested in my work a comfortable place to land.

I won’t be crowding your inbox, in fact, as I said, you won’t hear from me too often. Instead I’ll be touching base now and then with timely work updates preceded by entertaining little stories or helpful spots of advice.

There’s no pressure to stick around, but may I say that I hope you do.