Friday reflection
A new way to think about social media
Hi! If you prefer to listen to this week’s reflection, check out the audio link at the end of this email.
A microphone on a dramatically lit stage
Raise your hand if you resent/ dread having to be on social media.
If my last five years helping women show up more online are any indication, there are a lot of hands in the air.
Maybe this sounds familiar: “I need to be on LinkedIn for work.” “Ugh, I need to be on Instagram to attract clients.” Etc, etc.
I help women get to the other side of these feelings. My friend and former client Neda wrote a few years back that she’d always hated LinkedIn, but after a session with me, she was “crackling with energy” and excited to update her profile.
“Energized,” “clear,” and “confident” are words I hear a lot. I’m saying this not to brag (...god forbid! woman’s original sin) but to demonstrate that it is possible to shift your mindset about cultivating an online presence. And when you do — when you push the gnarly boulder out of the way — you start experiencing all kinds of wonderful things, personally and professionally.
Social media is not like stand-up comedy
Today I thought of a new metaphor for talking about all of this.
I think most people think about being on social media like doing stand-up comedy. They imagine a spotlight on an empty stage, stepping up to the microphone, and performing for an audience.
But what if, instead, we think about being active on social media like participating in an improv show?
Bear with me, because I know for many of you, being in an improv show may sound like the scariest thing ever. You may be thinking, “I’ll take the spotlight and the stand-up!” Or, “This woman is insane! She doesn’t get it at all!”
Let me explain the magic collectivism of improv and how it takes the pressure off the individual performer to be brilliant or clever.
For those who don’t know, I have a background in improv comedy; I’ve also led workshops about applying the lessons of improv far beyond the stage, often with my husband, Jordan (who now, by the way, integrates improv into his coaching and training workshops, and he’s amazing and you should totally hire him).
Improv is all about collaboration. If you get on stage with the other members of your improv group and you just start monologuing, saying a bunch of funny shit you thought of backstage, you may get some laughs, initially, but you will tank the show. Because the inherent context of the show is about the creativity of the group; you are part of a group. If you’re busy thinking only about yourself, your cast mates won’t have the space to build on any of your ideas (and if they did, you wouldn’t be listening, anyway). And the show will suck. (Trust me, I’ve been to a lot of these shows!)
But then, there’s the magic of an improv show that doesn’t suck. Where audience members can’t believe it wasn’t scripted. To be in such a show can be a holy, out-of-body experience; to see such a show is to feel awe.
You’ve heard about “yes, and”? It’s the cornerstone of improv. I do something, and you acknowledge what I’ve done (thus solidifying it as part of the truth of the scene) — this is “yes”; then you do something that adds to the thing that I did (thus advancing the scene) — this is “and.”
If you’re all in your head, focusing on being impressive, you are not yes-anding me or giving me room to yes-and you.
Remember: The inherent context of an improv show is about the creativity of the group.
Now imagine I’m not talking about improv at all, but about, well, life.
It’s not all about you. You don’t exist in a silo. You are part of the interconnected fabric of humanity. What you do matters to the rest of us. When you don’t do anything, you don’t help advance the scene.
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A stadium of silence
Here’s another way to think about it: Imagine a stadium filled with amazing women, yourself included. Imagine that you all sit there silently. No one says a word. You file out of the stadium and go home. This is not an exciting story.
Now imagine finding out that the woman sitting next to you was an expert on a problem you’ve been trying to solve at work; the woman across the way has navigated a relationship challenge that is currently costing you sleep. What’s more, the woman behind you is hiring, or looking for a book just like the one you’re writing, or trying to book one more speaker for a panel she’s moderating at an upcoming event.
But you’ll never get to benefit from hearing from them. Because no one opened their mouths.
We need you to open your mouth, and to realize, this is an improv show we’re all co-creating out here. You don’t need a perfect stand-up set. You just need to make a move.
“We should talk.”
Ok, I’m climbing down off my soap box, now.
…Actually, who am I kidding, I live on this soapbox. I care that much about persuading each and every one of you to move down the spectrum of sharing who you are, and doing so online, where the moments you share can reach exponentially more of us.
It’s not about “bragging,” it’s not about racking up the likes, it’s not about adding one more “should” to your very long list of shoulds and to-dos. It’s about… participating. Yes-anding. Turning to the woman next to you and saying, “Hey, if you ever need advice about how to change a tire/ lead a board meeting/ pitch an article — we should talk.”
We should talk.
And you — you are a mighty force.
Amanda