• It was quite some time ago now that Moses ascended the mountain, and returned with a set of rules that changed the world.

    Don’t steal.
    Don’t fuck your friend’s woman.
    Don’t talk shit about God.

    If we strip any modern cynicism we may have about such religious doctrine, what I think we see is that his commandments represent something extraordinary. They are higher truths, seen in a transcendent moment, that can then be encoded, and remembered when one returns to “ordinary reality”. And thus act as a pathway back up, slowly, toward the higher truth.

    His commandments (or Gods depending upon whom you attribute authorship to) changed the world. They enabled our ancestors of the time to divert themselves away from the chief problems (sins) of the time, and live a more wholesome life.

    But times have changed.

    The great sins of our times are not what they were. My great challenge is not to refrain from the irresistible urge to steal my neighbours donkey. Moses’ commandments have done their job. We have new problems that we must learn to overcome.

    I believe that one of the great modern sins, for which we need new commandments, is that of distraction, specifically digital distraction.

    So here are 6 commandments for a new digital age.

    1.  Thou shalt not be a digital narcissist

    The wonders of the world are not a backdrop for your Instagram selfies. The privilege to travel the world is not supposed to be used as a means for enhancing your social media profile.

    I visited Stonehenge recently. One of the world’s most important megalithic sites—an absolute wonder of ancient engineering and astronomical observation. It’s formation perfectly aligns with the setting sun at Winter Solstice, and the rising sun at Summer Solstice. We know that people from all over the British Isles travelled to Stonehenge to participate in the most important ceremonies of the age. This majestic site oozes significance.

    And yet as I stood marvelling at its nature, breathing in the power of the place, I was distracted by the people around me. They would pose for selfies, seeing these great stones in the little pixelated screens of their iPhones, and then turn and walk away without actually looking at the stones!

    The unprecedented power of the social platforms we have been given access to, are not best used as stages for our own digital narcissism. The fulfilment does not come from the performance you manufacture, crafted from carefully posed selfies in front of Notre Dame, but of the spiritual substance that you draw in as you walk its hallowed nave.

    You can communicate to untold numbers of fellow humans from this platform. Share what can change us. Not what makes you feel more special.

    2.  Thou shalt not incessantly pull the lever on the smart-phone slot machine

    Let me just check again…

    Even though it’s only been 17 seconds since I last checked Facebook, …maybe there’s something good there now. The elusive comment that makes my day worth living. The fiftieth “like” that will banish the cloud of meaninglessness from my mind. Or maybe I’ve got a new whatsapp message that will prove that I am actually loved after all.

    So we keep pulling the lever on the digital slot machine, hoping for a jackpot. Pulling out our phone, and going through a patterned cycle of checks. If you pay attention, you may see that you have an ingrained loop. Mine goes something like this.

    1. co.uk/sport to check if there’s some new football news.
    2. co.uk/sport, just in case they have news the bbc doesn’t.
    3. twitter to see what latest outrage has been committed by the politically correct gestapo.
    4. youtube to see if there’s a new Jordan Peterson upload, or ultimate fail video.
    5. Nothing? Start the cycle again. After all, it’s been at least 2 minutes since I checked BBC sport.

    What’s your cycle? When you’re checking out of the present, and open up your internet browser, or pickup your phone, where’s the first place you go?

    It’s the new addiction. Hunting the little dopamine hit that is injected into our neurochemistry when we find some interesting new article we can feel smart from pretending to read. The little oxytocin boost from 3 more likes on our Stonehenge selfie.

    I watch over people’s shoulder on the Amsterdam metro, circling through their own digital loops.

    Facebook. Whatsapp. Instagram. LinkedIn. Repeat.

    And then even if they give up and return the phone to their handbag, I can measure it in minutes before they whip it out again and start again from the beginning.

    As a friend used say “there’s no cheese down that tube”. You will not find what you seek. The sense of achievement that the dopamine urge tempts you with. The feeling of social inclusion that the oxytocin craving promises.

    Each pull of the lever increases the urge to pull it again next time.

    Put down the phone. Raise your eyes. Soften your clench. Notice the world around you.

    3.  Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s social media profile

    It doesn’t do any good my friend.

    We’re wired to seek the top of the social hierarchy. We want to “master our craft” and be “seen for our gifts”.

    Jordan Peterson brilliantly describes the sad state of affairs we now find ourselves in, in the digital age. Before the internet, it wasn’t so hard to be top of your tree. Being the best yogi in the village isn’t so hard. Being a regional expert on post-structuralism intersectional theory is attainable. The competition is relatively thin. The rewards of reaching the top within your grasp.

    Now we live in a world where we’re connected to almost every other competent human alive. The hierarchy now no longer tops out at the borders of the village or town. No matter how good you think you might be at your particular craft, opening up YouTube and having a quick search will reveal the prodigy that does stuff that you couldn’t even imagine, and has the 2 million views that proves it.

    Feeling insecure about the state of your work? The longing for the dopamine will take you onto your Facebook feed, where you will discover posts from your friends that depict the amazing client they just signed, or the workshop they just crushed. You’ll see all your friends having an amazing time…without you.

    The promise of dopamine has provided the opposite. You feel even worse that when you started. No problem. Just open up the next app in your cycle. Maybe there…

    No. The goal is self-realization. Emphasis on self. Not “having what she’s got”, not “better than him”. Self improvement. Or in the wise words of Dr. Peterson, compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not who someone else is today.

    This is much more easily achieved when you’re not constantly snooping on the successes of others through their social media profiles.

    4.  Thou shalt not perpetuate political outrage

    No matter which side of the fence you find yourself on—the social justice crew, working to level the playing field, or the secret intellectual web that is trying to keep back the tides of madness—don’t stir up the shit any further.

    Incessant outrage about the state of the world, penned in 140 characters does little to move the conversation forward, and will more likely simply irritate you and derail the more important work that you should actually be doing.

    Making yourself righteous by pushing off the wrongness of the “other side” is not noble. It’s shit stirring. It’s dehumanization. It doesn’t help us weave this unprecedented complexity into a human story that makes sense to us.

    But spouting your passionate condemnation of the madness of this leader, or that policy does help with something big. It helps give you the feeling that you have something important to say. It helps you feel like you’re making a difference. You’re not. But it covers over the hole in your true desire to make a difference.

    So instead, go make a real difference.

    5.  Thou shalt not sell your attention to the highest bidder

    You may think, that you are the valued customer of Facebook or Instagram.  In fact, you are not. You are the product. The customers are the advertisers, who are offered your attention by the platform.

    Attention is precious. And every time you mindlessly lose yours in the never ending scroll of the news feed, you have sold yours to the highest bidder.

    In 1997, IBM’s super computer Deep Blue achieved a world first. It beat the world’s best chess player Gary Kasparov. It was a triumph of Artificial Intelligence over the human mind.

    What you may not know is that the Facebook Newsfeed, and YouTube’s recommended videos are also run by A.I. And power of this A.I. is hundreds of times more powerful than the computer that beat Kasparov. The Social Media A.I. has one objective only, to capture your attention for as long as possible.

    So, every time you log onto Facebook, you’re playing attention chess against an some of the most powerful A.I. ever invented. And you don’t even realise it.

    Your attention  is so much more valuable than its commodification for online advertisers. What could you use it for?

    6.  Thou shalt befriend airplane mode

    Every phone has one. It’s designed for—as the name implies—use on airplanes. It turns off your Wi-Fi and phone signal. It stops all contact with the outside world.

    We’ve never lived in such a connected world. Your ability to disconnect is what sets you apart from the masses. This is Cal Newport’s “deep work”—the space where free from distraction, you focus on the work that really matters to you, and create something meaningful.

    When you sit down to do something important, tune out the world around you. Looking at your phone because your mum just whatsapp’d you to ask about the summer vacation plans does not help you do the deep work.

    Try this. When you go to bed, put your phone on airplane mode. And don’t take it off until you’ve done at least an hour of focussed work the next morning. If you’re used to checking your messages as soon as you open your bleary ideas, this may feel uncomfortable. It’s your reliance on outside stimulation. The good stuff comes from inside. Give it a chance to speak before you connect with the entire planet.

    What’s really needed is the deep work

    The work that comes from deep inside you. The stuff that only you can create. The stuff that is the product of deep, focussed and dedicated hard graft.

    And the entire interconnected world is available to receive it, if you create it.

    The great sin that has arisen to counter-act this interconnected freedom is distraction. In that moment, when your work really requires you to sit in the uncomfortable paradox, the problem that you don’t yet know how to solve—it’s so much easier to just pick up your phone and relieve the pressure.

    Just this once. I’ll rest for a moment.

    And then you surface some indeterminate time later, infected by the successes and outrages of everyone else, dulled by the passive surfing on a tiny screen, robbed of the moment of tension that had within it, the creative seeds for something new, something deep.

    Choose differently.

    The world desperately wants the deep work, to help us steer through the addictive distractions of a digital world.

    Ewan Townhead

    , ,

  • I’m at a party.

    It’s the biggest party I’ve ever seen, and friends from all over the world are here. More and more are pouring in through the doors. The room is vast, and it seems to grow with each new guest who comes in.

    I look around. I’m not quite sure what the rules are. It’s different to other parties I’ve been to. I just wonder about and try and work out the game. I notice some people are pinning stuff on the walls, and I go over and read them. There are cute little notes about what they’re up to. I try it. It’s nice.

    As I’m looking at the things on the wall, these little devices get handed out to everyone. I look at mine. I don’t really know what it is. Then all of a sudden I hear this booming voice coming out of giant speakers placed all around the room. We all turn and look. It’s one of my friends! And he’s speaking into the device. I realize it’s a microphone.

    Wow! That’s cool. I try it. It really works!

    I say something into the microphone, and everyone listens! And then some people come over say a few things about what I said in return, say whether they liked it or not. And I feel good! I said something, and I got attention! They go away again after a moment, and I feel a pang of loneliness. It was so nice to have their attention, to feel liked. But no matter, I just pull out the microphone again and say something else, people come back again and the loneliness goes away.

    It’s amazing! I can say anything! I experiment. I talk about menial things, about my cat or TV. I say really honest things, sharing my true beliefs on topical matters.

    Everyone’s getting the hang of it. I look around and watch. Some are shy about the microphone and seem to prefer just listening. Some are speaking almost constantly, and paying little attention to the people congregating around them. We all feel so connected. This is a party like no other!

    I can say whatever I want, and everyone has to listen! It’s like we’re all on a collective stage, and everyone has their own podium! I marvel at the democracy of it.

    But as we get more enthused, the noise level begins to climb. Everyone’s talking away in their microphones. People aren’t waiting until anyone else is done speaking, they just pull out their microphone and their voice booms through the speakers. It’s hard to hear what anyone is saying.

    When I pull out my microphone again, it works fine, but no one hears what I say. No one comes over. Did I say the wrong thing? I feel alone again.

    I look around again and I see someone across the other side, surrounded by people talking to them. How did they get so much attention? I feel jealous. So I follow them around to see what they do.

    They’re saying stuff that’s edgy. It cuts through the growing din of microphone broadcasts. How clever!

    I try it. I say something a bit edgy into my microphone. It works! I get people’s attention, and now they’ve come over again, and thankfully I don’t have to feel the loneliness anymore. And more than that, I get to see which people like me when I’m edgy, and which don’t. I’ve never got to play with this before!

    And then this trend catches on too! Lots of people start getting edgier. Some people are even getting aggressive, and starting to fight with each other. No one’s in charge, there’s no host I realize! People are shouting in their microphones, trying to order the chaotic din.

    I try not to fight with people, but it’s starting to turn into a shouting match.

    I can’t make sense of what’s going on. It feels really uncomfortable. And I feel divided. One part wants to keep saying what I really think and fuck the haters. One part wants to just get some love and validation like I used to, have people like what I say. It confuses me.

    The room is pulsating, the conversations moving faster and faster. People broadcasting into their microphones constantly, people coming over to aggressively agree or disagree with them.

    People are saying nasty things to each other. They say nasty things to me. I try not to say nasty things back, but it slips in sometimes. I see it happening to my friends too.

    I keep going. I keep speaking into my microphone. Sometimes loads of people gather around me and I feel great! Other times no one comes and I feel foolish and hope no one heard what I said.

    And then I see some people leaving. Some are announcing it first into their little microphones. Some are just walking out without a word. I realize I’m struggling to remember what life was like before I arrived.

    I begin to wonder what the hell I’m doing here. I look around, and I see few people having a good time. I realize I’m not having a good time.

    So I leave too.

    As soon as I leave I exhale. A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I feel lonely, but the kind of lonely where I can hear myself think again. I feel grateful that I don’t have to worry about the microphone. I don’t have to work out what to say, in just the right way, so people like it and I get attention.

    Instead, I meet my friends outside, like we used to meet. We drink wine, coffee. It’s quiet, and I realize how much I was shouting to be heard. And how much I needed the other party goers to acknowledge that they heard me.

    It’s nice out here. There are trees, and houses, and birds, and I can see the sun above the horizon. There are people sat quietly together, looking into each other’s eyes.

     

    This was written six weeks after I stopped logging into Facebook.

    Ewan Townhead

    ,

  • I’m writing an ebook. I thought it was finished, then I discovered it wasn’t.

    It will be out later this year, and it’s called How to Market Your Art. So, as a little teaser, here’s a very practical description of some of the main ways I market my own art.

    First though, a quick word about ‘art’. When I say market your art, I don’t just mean paintings, or songs (although it could be those things). I mean your Creative Work – the expression of who you are through artefacts that move and provoke people.

    Everyone has their own art. It may be more or less visible. It may be more or less skilfully expressed. But your art is your art.

    And then there’s sharing it – marketing it. This is where ‘artists’ traditionally possess less skill, or more resistance. But it’s crucial. Because art doesn’t count if you don’t share it.

    So, here are the 3 main ways I share my art.

    I’m only going to write about three, because they’re the only ones I can speak to with lived authority. They are not the best. They’re simply the ones I find most aligned with my work (so far).

    1. I write on this blog

    As a writer, this is my most important platform. It’s where I put my most in-depth and rigorous work. I’ve written very long articles, and shorter pieces. I’ve written practical business articles and I’ve written poetry. If anyone asks about my work, this is where I always point them.

    I don’t have a strict publishing schedule. Normally every couple of weeks or so I publish a new piece. I’ve experimented with weekly. At the moment, I’m incredibly sporadic with publishing here due to the writing of the ebook, and various other excuses!

    I only write about the things I want to write about. I have an ongoing list of article ideas. Sometimes I pull one out and sit down to write. Sometimes I just journal and something comes out of it. Sometimes I plan something out heavily in advance. Sometimes something pops up and I have to sit down and write it out.

    Most of my writing will never be read in public, because most of it isn’t very good.

    I write for me first, and my audience second. Which doesn’t mean I don’t constantly think about what would help my tribe. But I’m an artist first, and unless I’m writing something because I want to, because I feel called, it normally falls flat.

    Sometimes writing for me first means the first draft, and then I reframe it during the re-edit. Sometimes it means writing the piece I really want to, and then writing a second one that addresses something I know folks are coming up against.

    Both aspects are crucial. Writing for me. And writing for others.

    Titles are important. I try to write article titles that do two things. Firstly, a title must represent the piece accurately. Otherwise, I’m being misleading or vague. Secondly, a title must be written to draw people in. Attention is at a premium. Write titles that really elicit curiosity for your tribe. Sometimes it’s hard, don’t sweat.

    These were some of the titles that really worked for me.

    The Most Powerful Question I Know

    Speaking Your Truth can be a Trap

    6 Stories that Stop Us Creating our True Work

    It’s a loud market place out there, and you do have to interrupt people. Here’s no way around that. Good titles interrupt people’s newsfeed scrolling…

    “Oh, that sounds intriguing…” *click*

    2. I email my tribe

    When I work with my clients on their marketing, this is the platform I almost always say is a non-negotiable. If you want to grow your tribe in today’s marketplace, a mailing list of the people in your tribe is basic necessity.

    It’s important because this is the place I get to speak directly to my core tribe. These are the folks that have given their explicit permission to speak to them. They want to hear from me, they want to be led deeper into the ideas that I write about.

    If you have an engaged list of several thousand people (which is no small tasks these days) that like what you offer, then you probably have a sustainable business (at least for you the artist).

    An email list is like your tribal meeting hall. Every time you have something you want to share with your followers, you can simply drop your words into an email, and suddenly, they all get it, direct to their inbox.

    I use Aweber for my email list, I’ve used it for years. Mailchimp is also good, and is free for the first 1,000 subscribers.

    When I email my list, I try to be very personal, very direct, and ‘un-markety’.

    You know those lists you’re on and every time their email arrives in your inbox, a voice inside your head says “Oh nice! I love their emails, let me go read it” – that’s what you want with your own list.

    Don’t write newsletters, write letters, like you would write to your friends. Don’t try and ‘sound professional’ just be your post-conventional self.

    “Hey Horatio, I wrote a thing about un-markety marketing. I’ve wrestled with doing good marketing without being an ass for a long time. And I had some interesting thoughts about it this week. I think it might help you. Here’s the link, I hope you like it.”

    There’s no formula for email. Everyone has to find their own groove. Here’s what I would advocate though.

    • Show yourself, write in the first person, don’t be ‘professional’
    • Tell people what you have for them and why you think it will be useful or interesting
    • Tell them what you want them to do. Be direct. “If you’re curious, click this link.”
    • Write to them consistently. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule, but these are your peeps, be in relationship with them.
    • Train them to expect good stuff when they open your email, or click a link

    Email lists are secure, private and powerful. The rules can’t be changed on you suddenly, like on Facebook or other centrally controlled platforms.

    Whatever your art, whatever you create and share, allow people to easily stay in close relationship with you. Have sign-up boxes on your website. Invite them in warmly. Tell them what they’re signing up for, explicitly

    “I’ll email you every couple of weeks with my new stuff. I hope it serves the shit out of you. Unsubscribe any time.”

    And then welcome them when they sign up. Maybe you want to give them a gift for signing up. Maybe you don’t. But welcome them. These are your people.

    3. I write on Facebook

    Facebook is a powerful and unique platform, if you use it the way it’s designed to be used. Facebook is not a marketing platform. What I mean by that, is…you can’t directly promote stuff on Facebook. Well, you can, but it will probably bomb.

    “Do you struggle to be productive when it comes to phalange making? Sign up for my free webinar: “Phoebe’s 7 secrets to powerful phalanges.” It’s free, but places are limited.”

    You might get a couple of ‘likes’ but mostly, people really dislike this stuff on Facebook. It’s like walking into a party and trying to flog your latest thing. People are there to socialize and share connection, not listen to your pitch.

    Here’s how I use Facebook. I learned this from Michael Ellsberg who is a fabulous writer and has a wonderful course on the art of writing for Facebook.

    1. Learn to notice when interesting ideas float past in your mind. Get used to grabbing them with a butterfly net. They happen naturally, practice seeing them.
    2. If an idea has a somatic feeling with it – a fizz in your chest, gurgles in your chest, excitement, fear – then stop what you’re doing and open up Facebook.
    3. Type right into the status update box (don’t copy and paste from Word), and share your thoughts. Reveal yourself, don’t self-edit. Don’t try and sound clever. Get vulnerable. Share what you’ve learned, or how you see something. Share your process or your story.

    Because people are bored of pitches, and inspirational quotes, and cat pictures, and political choir-preaching.

    They’re also tired of what Michael calls bliss fronting – showing only the good shit, in a dis-proportionate way, or an attention seeking way.

    “OMG. I just had the most amazing meeting. I’m blown away.”

    “I just love myself so much. Life is awesome. I’m awesome. Wow.”

    It’s the bliss front. What about the shitty backside? Show us. Why did the meeting impact you? Why do you want to share it? When do you also not love yourself? Tell me vulnerably how awesome you are. Or tell me what’s been really hard for you, and how you navigate it.

    I’ve used Facebook to push my edge with my writing. I write about anything that interests me. I’ve shared very tender personal things about feeling like a little boy who just wants everyone’s attention. I’ve written about politics and stirred dissent among many old friends.

    And that’s the thing about Facebook. It normally contains a pretty diverse range of people from your life. And it can feel almost unbearable to write things on there that you would really rather certain people didn’t know about you.

    Your edge is yours to find and flirt with.

    What I will say is that Facebook is an amazing space to practice self-revealing. If you can tell people on Facebook that you’re actually into BDSM, or Astrological therapy, or Libertarianism, or you’ve just divorced your partner, or your father died, then you can tell anyone.

    Some people may unfollow you. Let them. And new people will friend request you. Let them. You have no obligation to please your Facebook friends. It’s your party. If they don’t like your toasts, then encourage them to leave, with love.

    And then share your art there too. I post all my blogs on Facebook, along with a short message. I’ve had an awful of people find my work through Facebook. An awful lot.

    Just remember, it’s a social-network, not a marketing-channel.

     

    Ewan Townhead

    , , , , , ,