I Wish I Cared Less About My Medium Statistics
As my skin grows thinner, I’m reminded how sensitive I am to the number of readers, claps, and comments.
Thin Skin
“Your arm is bleeding,” said Steve as I handed him a box of canned peaches. We were inside a small, airless storage room at the Decorah Food Pantry, stacking processed fruits and vegetables. My arm had brushed the aluminum rack holding the boxes.
You see the result in the photo. I hope it isn’t triggering. It would be for Doc Martin.
No good deed goes unpunished.
Yesterday, a semi-truck dropped off 6,000 pounds of food at the Pantry. That’s in addition to four pickup loads of rescue food from local grocery stores.
Steve and I are part of a 10-person Tuesday morning volunteer crew that shelves the food that comes in. Most of the ten are like me, over 70.
Our skin is getting thinner, so we bruise easily. Opening and closing freezers, lightly brushing hard-edged shelving, and even bagging onions, potatoes, and carrots leave many of us blemished after our shift.
Band-Aided volunteers and proud of it.
My Medium Treehouse Friends
My thin skin made me wonder why I care so much about how few followers read, comment, and clap for my stories. One follower who does all three is Elizabeth Emerald, who wrote in the piece linked below that she is proud to be in the 1% club. Meaning only a tiny number of her followers read her work. My regular readership group could meet in a treehouse, the .01% society.
Carol Olsen, who climbs into the treehouse often, suggested that many of us trend mellower as we age because our amygdalas fire up less. My mother’s mother, Florence, definitely softened as she aged, with a rootbeer float with chocolate ice cream as payment for my mowing her lawn proof. This was not, however, my mother’s path as she died at 96 at war with her nursing home captors.
In the photo below, my fiery mother, Dody, is on the left with peaceful Sister Marilyn Thomas, BVM, her older sister, on the right. My diminutive mom would occasionally use her walker to emphasize a point. Don’t be deceived by that smile.
Unfortunately, I’ve got my mother’s amygdala. A part of me wants better Medium numbers. Are 2k claps too much to ask? Or 50 comments? That’s why I enjoy the data-driven analyses of Natalie, another treehouse pal. She writes stories that uncover the secrets to success on Medium.
One of those secrets is a good headline. Cubby House comrade Roz Warren explains what a good headline does and provides many examples. By the way, my headline for this story earned a B+ from Wordpress’ Headline Analyzer. In high school Geometry, I would have given up a date with cute cheerleader MaryAnn Reinhold for such a grade.
Lest you think our clique discriminates against men, meet Rodrigo S-C, our official photographer. Rodrigo and others who write for his publication Full Frame have taught me a lot about creating a good photo, which is necessary for Medium success.
And Dave Karpowitz, at the end of every meeting, offers a phenomenal Hill Street Blue “be careful out there” thought for the day. Dave is also a good role model because he cares nothing about the number of readers, comments, or claps. A daily dose of Dave is an excellent antidote to my still-not-mellow amygdala.
Numbers aren’t everything.
If you’ve ever watched Apple TV’s Ted Lasso, you know about the Diamond Dog exercise. When Ted has a problem, he barks out a call for help. Friends pile into his office and woof out solutions. It’s funnier than it sounds.
My treehouse friends are just a few of my Medium Diamond Dogs. They’ve helped me improve my writing, photos, headlines, and, most important, thinking.
And my woeful statistics would be woefuller without them.
Besides, who wants to hang out with a number?