paradigms for your online life.

🎶 Let You Down - Dawid Podsiadło (maybe don't click if you also binged Cyberpunk: Edgerunners recently)

A little-known fact about how I started creating content is that my first TikTok was actually borne from my pandemic depression. There was something about being trapped inside for those first few weeks, endlessly doom-scrolling on Twitter, that completely decimated my ability to regulate my own emotions. It got so bad that one day, I just burst into tears out of the blue, and Nathaniel was so worried about me that he canceled his next call to ask me what was wrong. I could barely even elucidate what it was. I had always thought of myself as more anxious than depressed, but March 2020 certainly challenged my own self-conception. By the time my birthday rolled around in April, I was desperate to do something that day that was different—just a little different—from every other day. So I posted my first TikTok.

In honor of World Mental Health Day, I’m matching up to $1000 in donations to four mental health organizations: BEAM (Black Emotional and Mental Health Collective); Inseparable Inc; Mental Health America (where Nathaniel used to work); and Zero to Three. If you’re able, please join me in supporting these wonderful endeavors that are trying to effect policy changes to make this weird world that we live in a more supportive and welcoming place for everyone.

In this week's newsletter, I dive further into my paradigms of creators that I introduced in the inaugural episode of my podcast (YouTube) (Spotify) (Apple), answer some reader questions about applying to law school with a disability and fighting burnout, and round out with a few of my open tabs. Have a fantastic week!

what am i even doing here, anyway?

By now, you’ve probably seen or at least heard about Mikayla Nogueria, a top beauty guru on TikTok, and her resurfaced video from 2021 where she says, “I literally just finished work and it’s 5:19. Try being an influencer for a day. Try it.” (Henna’s video on this perfectly sums up how the backlash intersects with mental health, as well, and I’m glad that Mikayla is taking a break from social media. Influencing is an extremely privileged job, but the mental toll it takes on you is no joke and not something I would wish upon anyone.)

This propelled, at least on my FYP, a wave of anti-influencer sentiment, and as I scrolled on everyone’s favorite clock app, I began feeling an acute sense of shame. I don’t really consider myself an influencer but the term does get thrown at me sometimes, often as a pejorative, which makes me particularly sensitive to other people’s opinions about influencers and digital creators more generally. I hate to admit it, but I am hyperaware of the perceived prestige of jobs and careers (the Enneagram 3 in me), and one of the most difficult aspects of leaving biglaw was knowing that I was about to get an automatic deduction in prestige.

With about five months of my sabbatical slush fund left, the thought of applying to be an employee again has certainly crossed my mind. And with that, the looming, large question mark: were that to happen, to what extent should I continue to create content? Honestly, what even is the point of creating content/influencing/posting stuff online?

If you tuned into my podcast, you should be familiar with William Deresiwicz’s theory of paradigm shifts for artists (from artisan to genius to professional to entrepreneur). (And also a HUGE thank you for listening!!) I really appreciated your comments and feedback on my working theory of creator paradigms and was able to greatly refine my own theory as a result. My hope is that by looking directly at the modes, methods, and motivations in this bizarre industry that I currently find myself in, I can be more intentional in picking and choosing my own path among the existing modalities--or eschewing them altogether.

The paradigms that I see for digital content creators are:

• Entertainers. This category is the first that came to mind—early YouTube was filled with comedy sketches, skits, singers, musicians. Jenna Marbles’ video about the face to make people leave you alone will forever be etched into my brain as a formative moment. Comedians like Issa Rae and Donald Glover were able to parlay their YouTube content into traditional media shows and beyond. I still think many YouTubers and creators fall into this category.

• Sharers. Contemporaneous with Entertainers, these early bloggers, YouTubers, and vloggers were sharing aspects of their life. These are the beauty gurus, the mommy bloggers, the fashion bloggers in the era of [insert item] and [insert another item]. Sometimes they had an expertise (Michelle Phan’s make-up transformations still awe me); other times they simply shared the trial-and-error process necessary to find the right jeans for short women or foundation for dry skin. Inherently, there is an aspirational quality to Sharers—after all, why would the audience want to know how Jean Wang hems her pants if we did not, in some way, approve of the way that she hemmed her pants? Sharers’ focus on lifestyle, beauty, and fashion, though, proved to be the accidental perfect ad spots for brands. Sharers were able to seamlessly shift into sponsored content (spon con). Which brings us to…

• Influencers. Sponsored posts and videos were certainly already occurring before Instagram launched in 2010, but Instagram accelerated the influx of advertising money into digital creation. With enough money, hobbies and passion (or vanity) projects become jobs. And when activities become jobs, hallmarks of professionalization (e.g., credentialing, shared traits within the profession, courses/tutorials on how to advance in the profession) inevitably appear. Deresiewicz talks of the professionalization of being an artist through an MFA—I would argue that the moment when most of the contestants on The Bachelor started going on the show to launch their influencer careers, influencing became a profession. The Bachelor is the equivalent to a bachelor’s degree in influencing--not necessary, but often sufficient for early contestants to skyrocket their careers. As more "graduates" and other "programs" (e.g., Love is Blind, F Boy Island) come onto the scene, however, the value of the degree is diluted, and new (but related) pipelines appear--Bama Rush, anyone?

• Neighbors. The pandemic, along with the rise of TikTok, ushered in a new paradigm for digital creators. Creators feel closer to us than ever before, and “relatable” is the word du jour when it comes to who resonates with the general audience. We’re also nosier about their lives, because their lives implicate ours in more meaningful ways than the lives of celebrities. I’m way more curious about what my law school classmates are doing now than I am about what Rihanna’s next business venture will be, because my greater similarity with my law school classmate means that I can likely draw something from their life into my own. Being alive is hard, and learning more about our neighbors—physical or digital—helps us figure out our own lives more, even if we don’t do it intentionally.

• Entrepreneurs. Monetization is notoriously difficult for creators and not entirely reliable, as some of the Neighbors cohort who have quit their jobs have discovered. Entering this industry of uncertain rewards means that creators must iterate, diversify, adapt, or be “counseled out” (to use the biglaw term for quiet firing). Brody Wellmaker was a stunning example of this--with over 20 million followers, it would seem that his short film wouldn't be hurting for an audience, but the conversion was below his expectations. This phenomenon of underperforming--and underperforming quite publicly--is not new, by any means. Countless startups, even those with great backers, a good idea on paper, and a smart team, go bankrupt all the time. The only difference in the creator economy is the people experiencing these vicissitudes for the first time. When hitting "post," one likely doesn't conceive of a few online posts as a startup, but in today's era of weakened employer-employee relationships, we're all basically startups.*

One of Deresiewicz’s points in his 2020 book, The Death of the Artist,* is that not all of us should create. He posits that the market, in response to anti-consumption sentiments, has responded by now seducing everyone into believing that they, too, can become artists. It’s so easy now to create, see, Capitalism says, gesturing towards the cameras, tripods, ring lights, and editing apps that make filming from your bedroom possible. Just show us something interesting! So people buy make-up and Amazon "hauls," book exotic trips, buy luxury goods--all to hold them up in front of their camera, as content. And thus, the individual reluctance to consume is tempered—I’m not buying this to consume, I’m not a consumer, I’m a creator! But is the end result really any different?

I certainly do think that we should encourage everyone to create—even create "bad" content—if they want to. In an ideal world, we could all make all of the art that we desire--but under capitalism, I’m not sure what the best strategy is, nor where I fall in this strange new world. I’m not an Entertainer by nature. I used to love being a Sharer, until I felt the ire of an audience whose preferred season ending for the show of my life was not the one I had written. I’m too lazy about appearances and interior décor to be a good Influencer (not to mention, being among the predominantly white, skinny, family money Influencer ilk triggers my insecurities like no other). So that leaves… Neighbor or Entrepreneur. (Or withdraw from the creator sphere altogether?)

I guess the next five months will tell.

✍️ ask cece

should i hide my medical diagnosis from law schools?

Q: Law school has been on my mind as a potential for my future for a year now, though I didn't have an interest during my undergrad. Recently, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, and I was wondering how that may affect my application. Should I keep it a secret? Could I potentially use it to get scholarships? Are there law schools I could go to part time as health insurance (and therefore working) is obviously important to me? I'll take any advice or resources you may have for someone in my position. If I don't go to law school, I don't want it to be because of MS.
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- Anonymous

A: First of all, you should absolutely not feel pressured to keep your diagnosis a secret. At the same time, you should not feel pressured to disclose your diagnosis, either. There are plenty of lawyers out there who have fulfilling legal careers with MS. If you feel comfortable doing so, I would reach out to the lawyers and law students featured in the links above to talk with them about their experiences and advice. You should certainly look into scholarships for students with MS and inquire with a part-time law program (like GW's) about how health insurance works for part-time students. Law school may not be the right choice for many given how expensive it is nowadays, but having MS should certainly not stop you. Best wishes!

how do i overcome burnout?

Q: How can I (a young adult overachiever) overcome a long period of burnout after the pandemic isolation?
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- Camilla

A: You are not alone in feeling this, Camilla--this is indeed the million-dollar question that so many others are also struggling with. For me, I always thought of burnout as one of three things: (1) doing too much of something that you don't want to do; (2) doing too much of something that you do want to do; or (3) paradoxically, not doing enough of something that you want to do (as that can often make the activities that you are doing feel more arduous and burdensome, as your mind is elsewhere). Ask yourself which category of burnout you're feeling and if there are any ways to say "no" more to the things you don't want to do or are doing too much of and say "yes" more to the things that are higher-value in your mind. Last year, AOC sent out a fundraising email with her tips for burnout, which turned out to be incredibly insightful, as well, and is certainly worth checking out.
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I would also add some of my own observations from these past few months:
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1) Set at least two weeks to do nothing. Overachieving is hard because it's like a drug. When you're not doing it, you're thinking about it. When you are doing it, the dose always feels lesser than you would have thought. If you're able to, I would start saving up the financial and time resources to take at least two weeks off with nothing--and I mean absolutely nothing--on the agenda. The first few days will be frightening.
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2) Take notes on what you naturally gravitate towards. As you ease into this baseline state, jot down what you naturally desire to do--read a book? call a friend? take a walk outside? What do all of these activities have in common--are they all about the same subject? do they all make you feel one set of emotions? are they all social? Writing these things down can help you identify a throughline between what you enjoy--and that throughline is incredibly important. After you figure out what this throughline is, list these out somewhere that is easy for you to find, and whenever you're starting to feel burnout, pick one of these burnout combating activities to engage in. Think of this as your "Burnout First Aid Kit"--like a First Aid Kit, it needs to be easily retrievable and contain easily actionable fixes.
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3) Commit to daily journaling. I've begun a 5 minutes or under daily journaling practice that I'm finally sticking to, after years of never being able to stick to journaling because it always seemed like a "waste of time." Each morning, I write five sentences only: (1) one thing I am grateful for; (2) one thing I am excited about; (3) a virtue I want to embrace; (4) one thing I'm avoiding; and (5) one thing I absolutely need to do that day. Each evening, I write three sentences only: (1) a win; (2) a realization (i.e., lesson learned); and (3) what's on tomorrow's agenda. I've found that this marriage between gratitude/mindfulness and productivity helps me actually commit to being aware of how I'm feeling and solve the problem of my reluctance to do something unless I feel a strong productivity tie-in. And yes--limit yourself to one sentence only, because I know that the overachiever instinct is to write ten sentences on what you need to do.
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4) Consider outside help or a larger break. Burnout can come in so many forms, and the steps I've outlined above may not be enough. Maybe the issue is larger, and that's when outside help may, in fact, be extremely helpful. For me, a combination of therapy and career coaching has helped a lot, once I found the right therapist and career coach. Keep options like those in the back of your mind, as well as potentially saving up for a longer break. Fighting burnout is a little like the studying that presumably got you into this overachieving feedback loop in the first place--it takes time and effort to figure out what methods of combating burnout works for you. After so many years feeling burned out, you owe it to yourself to discover what truly makes yourself happy and fulfilled. I'm rooting for you.