Focus on each person, not an audience
Focus on each person, not an audience
This tiny shift completely changes your ability to reach readers
We share our writing and art because we hope it will inspire, entertain, or educate someone. And it is easy to consider that this impact is greater the more people it reaches. We may aspire to reach an audience — masses of people who we don’t know.
Yet too often, I worry that the concept of “an audience,” actually gets in the way of your goals. Instead, I encourage you to focus on one person, not an audience.
This entire month I have been focusing on the topic identifying your ideal audience. Earlier this week I shared an exclusive post to my paid subscribers: The secret to learning about your ideal readers: befriend guides. Next month I am focusing on how to connect with your ideal readers. Join us here:
Okay, let’s dig in to today’s topic…
The Concept of “An Audience” Can Actually Feel Restricting
While many who write and create dream of a large group of people admiring their work, that same concept can also stifle writers from actually sharing their work. A crowd can sometimes feel fun and freeing, and other times feel terrifying and restricting.
I remember attending the first Lollapalooza tour in 1991, and getting right up front to see Jane’s Addiction perform. The evening had been magical so far. As I waited for the band to come on, it started to rain, and the venue played Peter Gabriel’s “Red Rain” over the PA system.
But the instant Jane’s Addiction came on stage, elation turned to terror. The crowd surged forward, then back, then again. I lost my footing as did everyone around me. I struggled to stay upright, as my feet no longer touched the ground, knowing that if I went down, I could be trampled. After a few minutes of struggle, I escaped, rushing to the back of the venue, shaking. I am not someone who minded crowds, and had been in plenty of pits at concerts before. But that moment taught me something about how quickly one can lose control in a crowd.
It’s reasonable for a writer or artist to have their own fear about stepping in front of a crowd. Fear of being seen, of saying the wrong thing, or simply feeling out of our element. Seasoned performers learn how to feel a connection with a crowd, but for many writers, they have no desire to be performers. They simply want to share the work that means so much to them, and have a meaningful moment with readers.
When someone is first beginning to share, it is easy to say, “Having 10,000 followers/subscribers is the dream!” Yet, I have spoken to many writers over the years who have 10,000 or 100,000, or 250,000 followers who feel distant from them, unsure of who they are, or convinced they want something different from what the writer truly wants t share. Or they fear disappointing some segment of their audience, so much so, that they stop sharing altogether, frozen in apprehension.
Likewise, I have known many artists who feel confined by their audience’s expectations. Perhaps the they were successful with one specific style of art, and now fear that their audience will ditch them if they try a different style.
If this sounds rude (that a fan of an artist would pine for a certain style from them), consider if you saw your all-time favorite band or singer in concert. Maybe it’s a legend like Joni Mitchell or Stevie Wonder — and they only want to play songs from their brand new album. Sure, you want to support them and their artistic freedom, but after awhile you may begin to feel let down spending hundreds on a ticket and parking, traveling time, and staying out past your usual bedtime, and you don’t get to hear “Clouds” or “Superstition.” I’ve been to plenty of Bob Dylan concerts where I hear fans groaning that he doesn’t sing his songs in the same style that he recorded them.
If you are just starting out, the concept of “an audience” can actually feel overwhelming, and like a lot of pressure. And as your audience does grow, somehow, it may never seem like enough because there are always others around you that have a bigger audience.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spoken to a writer and they say something like, “Oh, I only have 100 subscribers, it’s such a waste of my time.” Or “I only have 600 followers,” no one reads my stuff. It’s easy to dismiss a number, because it is just that: a number.
Every Interaction Matters
When you stop focusing on “an audience,” and instead focus on individuals, everything changes. You are no longer trying to please a mass of different expectations, and instead using the skills you have spent a lifetime developing: how to be present in your own aspirations, and to meet someone where they are.
To see an individual demystifies what scares us so much about the concept of developing a platform as a writer or artist. A decade ago, I first shared this photo of Amanda Palmer at a launch event for her book, The Art of Asking:
Amanda is on the left, reaching over the table and gazing into the eyes of a fan of hers, Sarah Staalesen. The setting for this book signing is typical for managing a large crowd. There are handlers in the background trying to ensure everything runs smoothly, and fans have a brief moment with her, before they are whisked off so the next person can get their book signed. In her typical style, Amanda did away with those expectations.
At the time, I was able to contact Sarah (the fan in the photo) and ask her about this experience. This is what happened:
“I nervously knelt down in front of the desk, lost for words as Amanda began speaking to me, complimenting my outfit and asking what my name was. Then there was hesitation, because I have always been very bad at answering that question.”
“I don’t like my name,” I quickly blurted. My face was tomato-red.”
“Why don’t you like your name?” Amanda was so gentle with her questions.”
“I was not able to give her a proper answer because that would take up way too much time, and I had already froze by then, and I didn’t want to have her waiting all night. I was silly to say anything in the first place. “It’s Sarah,” I was finally able to say after a lot of stammering.”
“Then, very suddenly, she leaned forward to look into my face & took my wrists into her hands, and of course I was speechless. She was seeing me. I don’t have a lot of experience with really being seen. It was breathtaking and shocking to be held by Amanda.”
“My face started to crumple. “I’m sorry, I can’t look at you without crying.”
“Just try to,” she answered.”“As she saw me deeply, I saw her as well. No more words were exchanged. I couldn’t even remember to breathe. After the moment, she signed the books I brought and blew me a kiss goodbye. My heart was soaring & I was quick to blow one back, hurrying off the stage for the next fan, feeling light as air, and ready to have a happiness-induced breakdown.”
Now, you do not need to do what Amanda did in this photo, and of course, I encourage you to have clear boundaries of what you are comfortable with. You do not need to physically hug anyone, or even shake their hand. This photo shows the choices that Amanda and Sarah made in that moment.
Yet, it also embodies something important, illustrating how a writer becomes a gateway for the work that moves someone touched by it. It is a place where the boundary of artist and fan is broken, and you are two human beings sharing something unique together.
You can learn so much from each interaction you have with a reader, another writer, or supporter of books and the arts. These moments matter. Showing up fully to them and seeing the individual not the audience, will teach you so much of what you need to be better at sharing your work.
Truly See Each Person
An audience is really just is many, many, many one-to-one connections. When I stand in a stadium of 50,000 people, all of whom are mouthing the words to the same Bruce Springsteen song (I’m from New Jersey), we are “an audience,” all performing the same action. Yet, that same song means something slightly different to each of us. We each have a personal connection to it.
Back in 2012, I waited for hours and hours in line to situate myself in a spot where this could happen — Bruce holding out the microphone towards me:
He understands the that this each person here has a personal connection with his music, that each voice in the stadium is unique.
When you share online or off, I encourage you to do this: leave room for the reader. This could mean asking a question at the end of your newsletters or on social media, or doing a Q&A at a book reading. It is about being present with people, instead of talking to them.
Likewise, I encourage you to use people’s actual names when possible. One simple way I try to do this is to reply back to everyone who comments on my Substack posts, and when I do, use their names. It is such a powerful way to illustrate that you see them as human beings, not just as “comment number 9.”
A Community is Formed One Person at a Time
If you hope for a community of support around your writing or art, remember that this is forged one person at a time. I spend a lot of time each week studying the journey of successful creators, and in nearly every case, it happened incrementally as they developed a community of people around them. Each person mattered deeply, and are the people they talk fondly of decades later.
This is what I notice when I look at #BookTok or #Bookstagram — those readers who share about books on TikTok or Instagram. I see passionate fans advocating for books. Sometimes they are crying, proclaiming, “This book wrecked me in the best possible way!” Other times they are holding a book sideways so you can see the dozens of Post-it Notes they used to mark passages they liked:
As you share what you create, I encourage you to not be an island. Truly see those around you who care about writing or art similar to yours. Take a chance to start a conversation, ask a question, and consider what you learn about readers in the process.
Please let me know in the comments: can you share one moment that you connected with someone around writing or art, and why that moment truly mattered to you? For example: this can be a celebrity encounter, an experience with an author you love, or a reader who expressed something meaningful to you.
Reminder: each Tuesday I share an exclusive posts for my paid subscribers and engage in my private Chat on Substack. Join me and hundreds of writers here:
Thank you for being here with me.
-Dan
Kids of the Week: The little fella (and Puppy) snuggling with his brand new Snoopy bedding:
Mom of the Week: A visit with grandma:
There is one moment that drives me forward. I was reading a book, and I began crying, and I said, for the first time, "I'm not alone." I want to give that moment to someone else. That's the driving thought behind my books.
That book, Washed and Waiting, by Wesley Hill, upset a lot of people. He took a nuanced approach to a difficult topic and invited hatred from both sides of a debate. He was definitely not putting the audience first. If he had, I would not have had that powerful moment.
Thank you for the reminder. We should not write for the audience, but for the reader. I'd rather have one reader walk away with a huge impact than a thousand readers who shrug and move on.
At New York Comic Con 2014 I met Kevin Conroy, the late great voice actor of "Batman: The Animated Series" fame. "Batman" was my favorite TV show growing up. I watched it every afternoon as a way to destress after coming home from school. (Middle school was not a fun experience for me. I was bullied relentlessly and the school authorities did nothing to stop it. Batman was my hero as a child - and still is - because he fought injustice against impossible odds and never gave up.) I waited in line for an hour and a half to meet Kevin and get his autograph. I rehearsed what I would say to him over and over. When my turn finally came, I opened my mouth and nothing came out! I stood there terrified and embarrassed. But Kevin smiled and waited patiently as I finally managed to stammer out how "Batman: The Animated Series" helped me survive middle school. I don't remember exactly what Kevin said next. I just remember that he came across as kind and empathetic and gentle. I will remember this experience forever. People say "don't meet your heroes" but Kevin Conroy was a class act. He treated me like I was the only fan he greeted that day (even though I was only one of thousands) and made me feel like what I had to say to him was of immense importance. I was devastated when Kevin Conroy died in 2022 but his warm smile and gentle voice (so different from his "Batman" persona) will always remain with me. Kevin was a model for how all of us artists and creatives should interact with fans.