When a Content Creator Retires (without being "cancelled")
There’s few things more ironic than creating content about retiring from creating content. I’m aware of this. But two years after retiring from content creation, I have some thoughts about my previous “career” in content creation and how retirement has treated me so I hope you don’t mind if I share them.
In 2020, after over eight years of creating weekly content for my YouTube channel, blog, various failed podcasts, and social media, I “retired” from creating content. Basically I just stopped making things for free for the internet. There was no singular event or reason to cause this retirement. I was never “canceled” or harassed to the point of giving it all up. Previously, I survived a minor doxxing attempt (from a Nazi, no less), a handful of (thankfully harmless) stalkers who found my private social media, more low engagement periods than I cared to admit, severe creator burnout, YouTube’s terrible algorithm, and major personal life events without fully quitting. At the time of my retirement, my things were even doing relatively well. Actually, they continue to do well despite my lack of effort in promoting them over the past two years. My YouTube channel has garnered over half a million views total with over 2,300 subscribers. 80k of those views came from the past two years of inactivity. All in all, I was proud of the content I was creating and the minor success with it.
For the full explanation of why I ultimately decided to retire, you can watch my rambling video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gp5fhNHjoWQ
But the long story short of it is that I just didn’t want to do it anymore. Chasing algorithms and engagement no longer interested me. The venture was no longer technically or creatively challenging for me. I met all of my goals that I hoped to achieve with my channels through other avenues. I was also exhausted curating my social media to match my brand, posting when I didn’t really want to post just to ensure that when I did need to post something, the post was seen. For the first time since I started my social media, I just wanted to live my life without worrying about documenting it for the masses or for the success of my channels.
And, dear reader, I fell in love with that life.
Did you know that over my six years of YouTube, I never watched an entire TV show from start to finish? I never had the time - all of my free time between school and work was dedicated to my YouTube channel or writing (or even reading for my bookstagram). As soon as I retired, I watched all of Brooklyn-99. Since then I’ve seen Schitt’s Creek, WandaVision, Bob’s Burgers, and so many other great shows that everyone was always talking about and now I can talk about them too! Same thing for video games. They’re no longer a rare late night reward for finishing edits on a video early or updating my blog. They’re my regular routine now, something that helps me decompress from work or fill the time.
The wild thing is that I had no idea how much of a grip content creation had on my life until I let myself let go of it. I barely had any experience living life without trying to make a success of it through social media. My YouTube channel is only two years younger than my private Facebook account. I’ve been blogging off and on since middle school. Until 2020, my entire social media presence was defined by my goal to make it a self-sustaining career one day. Specifically, I wanted it to be a media empire. I wanted to operate my own version of DFTBA where I helped other creators grow and we could create content that was fun and wholesome, a testament to my original mission statement of “I’m going to post videos every Monday because nobody likes Mondays and I want people to have at least one excuse to smile on a Monday” (I was, like, sixteen. You can’t blame it being a very wordy mission statement.).
I’m a true child of the 90’s. I witnessed the birth of the YouTuber from my middle school laptop. I watched regular people like me grow into these massive celebrities with incredible influence just because they were funny and had access to a video camera and the internet. I thought I could do it too and, in my teenage loneliness, thought it could also mean making a friend or two along the way. I had no idea that I’d be spending every free moment I had on it just to keep up with the algorithm. I had no idea it would involve scheduling my personal life around the ebb and flow of the internet to ensure I posted at the right times to reach the right people and curating my media consumption to the latest and greatest trends to make sure my channel matched those trends and stay with the flow of content that my audience was also engaging with.
For the record, I despise most of my reaction videos. I know they’re a huge component to the success of my channel, but I only made them because they trended well and people seemed to enjoy them. They were a nightmare to film and edit and ruined a lot of media for me. For example, I ruined the experience of watching the 50th Doctor Who Anniversary special with my little brother because I insisted on filming it, which he wasn’t interested in (as he should). Slowly phasing those types of videos from my content rotation was a blessing and I thank you guys all of the time for letting me do that. The fact I can now enjoy content for the first time ever without forcing myself to “react” to it or feeling guilty for not making content out of it is a breath of fresh air.
The other mercy I’ve recently recognized receiving is that I no longer recognize myself as a former influencer. I barely even mention my previous content creation efforts to new friends because it comes up so little in my day to day life. I’ll check in on my channel for kicks and be surprised at the quality of the video I made for only 50 views (to this day, I’ll still argue that my strength with video making was my editing abilities) but barely remember making it. I’m even more surprised at the runaway videos that I left at 20 views that are now hovering around 1k. I was scrolling back through my old Instagram posts and giggling at my lengthy descriptions with a paragraph of hashtags (20 was the max limit, anything more or anything less meant the post wouldn’t be seen.). But I have no recollection of why I would dedicate so much of myself to such an endeavor. Why I would sacrifice so much of my core identity and interests just to capitalize on an ever changing algorithm and an engagement metric that never quite hit the numbers I wanted to see remains a conundrum I can’t fathom returning to after experiencing this new life without it.
However, I don’t regret my career with content creation. I love the friends I made from it that are still hanging around my social media, throwing likes to my Wordle updates on Twitter and commenting on my Instagram stories to ask for my recipes (which I’m happy to provide! …if I ever write them down.). The connections I’ve made through YouTube and my social media are so supportive and kind and were often the only connections I could claim for periods of my life. I’m also grateful for the very cool life experiences I gained from my time in the content creation trenches, like getting a 30 minute life pep talk from Philip DeFranco and interviewing folks like Gabby Londe from the “Where’s the Chapstick” video. The technical skills I learned with social media engagement, technical troubleshooting, general content creation, and so much more are still applicable to my day to day life. I may only use those skills to take boss pictures of my food for my Instagram, but it still counts.
But retiring from content creation is also, by far, one of the best things I’ve done for my life. My personal relationships with people are the best they’ve ever been now that I dedicate the time to focus on and develop those friendships rather than my YouTube channel. I still capture moments of my life but it’s for me and my memories, not for the rest of the world. Not every minute of my day is dedicated to furthering my content creation career or ensuring I hit my engagement metrics for the week and that makes me very, very happy.
I have friends who are attempting to find success for their brands through social media. I watch them chase TikTok and Instagram Reels trends, trying to keep up with the same race I ran for eight years. I’m more than happy to cheer them on from the sidelines, offering my own tips from my own minor success with internet fame if they ask, but I don’t envy them. Now more than ever, the content curation wheel is saturated beyond control. TikTok videos in particular are cruel in their algorithmic intention to give creators a taste of mediocre internet fame before promptly revoking the privilege to make the creator create more free content for them. To be a creator in this day and age is to be a marathon sprinter, never quite able to catch a breath against the never ending tide of trends and content but still running towards a finish line you can’t fully see.
Personally, that race is no longer for me. I’m glad others are still able to find joy in that chase, but my joy is elsewhere. I’m enjoying retirement as the chaotic former minor content creator who springs up from the ashes every so often to spout off whatever nonsense is on her mind before returning to the murky depths she buried herself in. If you do intend to try to find success through social media, you may absolutely reach out to me and I will absolutely do my best to help or provide insight but I will likely never return to it full time on my own ever again.
After all, I know better than anyone that the world of content creation is madness.