Is your Internet penis too small?
So there I was, lying in bed, with my favorite unofficial life coach. My boyfriend.
I was venting, whining and moaning (sexy, right?) about … wait for it … web traffic.
“I’m just worried that if I pour a whole ton of time and effort into a new offering — you know, a really freaky-weird poetry collection, or program, or book — something that’s not about marketing and copywriting and communication — something about self-discovery, reinvention, you know, ART, man! — that it’s just gonna flop. That nobody will want it. I just don’t have the mailing list numbers, you know?”
He turns to me, gravely.
“Alex … are you worried that your Internet penis is too small?”
Yes. Why yes, I am.
Here’s the thing. I’ve seen the analytics. I know my metrics. 100,000 blog visitors, in 2-ish years. Mailing list approaching 2,000. Twitter peeps over 4,000. They seem like juicy, dazzling numbers. But comparatively speaking? Teeny tiny Internet penis.
And yeah, yeah, I know. It’s not about size, it’s about the motion of the ocean. But really, I want numbers. There. I said it.
And then again …
“Maybe you don’t need the whole world to love you, you know? Maybe you just need one person.” — Kermit the Frog
Oh, Kermie. Too right.
I know — in my hut (that’s my heart and gut) — that my words, my ideas and my particular flavor of inspiration are going to reach whoever they’re meant to reach. That ultimately, hustle-mongering and guest-blogging and opt-in freebie-ing and SEO-crunching aside — my digital fame, or lack thereof? It’s largely outside my control.
People will respond, or they won’t. People will buy, with delight, or they won’t. People will tweet-share-like-love-validate-ooh-la-la-huggy-smoosh me, or they won’t.
So maybe I’m OK with just one person’s fanatical love and approval. Say, my own.
And for what it’s worth, my boyfriend thinks my Internet penis is juuuust fine.
Thank you and goodnight.