A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how finding an audience is tied to finding a community, and generally being more open as a way to access more energy and creativity. Since then, I’ve been trying to be more active in game dev communities, posting about my work, seeing what people are talking about, et cetera. It doesn’t come naturally or easily to me, but I’ve made some progress at least.
Here’s something I learned very quickly: There are reasons I’ve shut myself off. They aren’t all good reasons, but it wasn’t an accident. When I talked about making myself a conduit to allow energy to flow rather than a dam to conserve it, I failed to consider that it’s not always necessarily fun being filled with energy. I didn’t get much sleep the first week. I’ve shut myself off a bit more since then to recover, but I have ambitions to push myself further again so I can probably anticipate more acute anxiety and sleeplessness and productivity and – all of a sudden it makes a lot of sense why so many indie devs get so much done and seem so frazzled all the time. I just opened that door a crack, I can barely imagine living directly in that stream of human idea and energy.
We all find ways to close off a bit, even if some of us are more overt about it than others. Many people who are exposed to the public stop listening because the voices are too numerous and the need too acute. Others shy away from the public completely and publish work from a distance. Some listen at certain times and then lock themselves away to work at others. It’s a negotiation that happens per person, trying to find a way to live close enough to the stream of human consciousness that they can fish in it without drowning in it.
Of course, I’m nowhere near drowning in it, it’s a two-mile hike to get to the stream to get idea water but I used to have drowning nightmares so even a light misting can freak me out and this metaphor has gotten out of hand.
Everyone is exposed, everyone is hungry, everyone wants to be heard and is struggling to listen. Just paying attention to the salivating throb of the creative economy can be difficult because it’s an open question how many of these people will have their needs met, and whether I can be helpful at all in doing so – even before considering whether my own hunger to be heard will ever be fed. There are so many people creating art and music, making games and writing stories, and all of these have value but how many of them will find an audience? How much audience is there, out there, to find?
In a world where success is defined as a financial self-sufficiency that demands thousands of sales, if more than 0.01% of people are creators and each creator has limited time to consume the work of others… when are we so saturated with creation that trying to share an audience becomes impossible?