2022 is the year I decide I’m a content creator. It’s the year I decide I’m OK with the word “content.” (I’m content with content lol) What else to describe all that I do? I’m not only a writer. I’m an editor; I make videos; I publish and stream and blog.

I make content.

Something that helped me come around to this was looking for ways to find a rhythm that works for me. And the people who write about this topic are content creators. I’ve read a lot of blogs and scrolled a lot of Instagram Stories and watched a lot of videos about batching and content pillars and idea matrices.

I make content.

A new project I’ve been working on is repurposing B-roll into ASMR-style videos. The series is called How to Fold. Instead of adding talking and music, these are simple videos that show you how to fold a variety of zines.

I started the series when I needed a video to stick to my schedule but didn’t want to make a video. It’s a good lesson in reposting. We make so much, and I don’t believe we share it enough.

People feel weird about it; I know because I do, too. But here’s something to remember: with algorithmic timelines, sometimes your friends and audience literally didn’t see the first post. So post it again. Turn it into something else. Link it a week later. You deserve to be seen.

You also deserve a break, which is the topic of my latest video. I’ve been spending as much time as possible in the pool that I figured I should make a video. It’s about how floating and swimming leads to new ideas. It’s about enjoying the summer before it’s gone. It’s about making content out of life.

People get weird about that. “Why can’t you just enjoy things?” But that video took me less than half an hour to film. And then I enjoyed the rest of the day in the pool. Once you’ve made a lot of content, it really doesn’t take that long to make things. Believe me, I’m an inherently lazy person. I wouldn’t be doing this if I couldn’t make it work for me.

I thought about making videos for years before I actually sat down and did it. I thought and agonised and worried, and then I did it, and it wasn’t as bad as I’d built it up in my head. You’d think after a lifetime of depression I would’ve learned that lesson by now. But that’s what a lifetime of depression does to your brain.

So today, in this letter, I want to gently nudge you to do something you’ve been worried about. Repost that project. Film that reel. Make that thing because we need more things in the world made by people who care too much.