If I want a lot of people to see something, I can make that happen in a few keystrokes without any help from a PR firm or media outlet. I’ve mentioned my follower counts and blog stats in book deal and paycheck negotiations, because people who hire me are often buying my ability to market my book or project.
But the focus of her post is on the negatives of being/becoming internet famous:
You field a weekly flood of pitches. Having a big audience means you’re a commodity, and you get to constantly field pitches from strangers, acquaintances, former co-workers, and distant family members who you never hear from otherwise asking you to mention their new app, book, Kickstarter project, or MySpace page. People decide how important you are by your Klout score and treat you accordingly. Ad agencies look up how much your tweets are worth and recruit you to tweet on behalf of their clients for money. It’s a bizarre and sometimes awkward crash course in saying “sorry, no” to the requests that just don’t feel right (and most of them don’t).
People who don’t know you make wildly inaccurate assumptions about things you say. If you crack a joke, use sarcasm, or don’t fully explain your 140-character statement, you will be misunderstood, because most of your followers barely know you. Last week I said I have mixed feelings about lesbian contestants in a beauty pageant. A handful of people tried to explain why lesbians are just as worthy of beauty pageants as heterosexual women. Having to explain stinks.
You forget how to share with people who do know you. To avoid misunderstandings, you start dumbing down your posts and only writing things which are literal and mostly non-controversial. (At least I do.) But that means your friends don’t enjoy the connection that comes with hearing you be you, instead of edited-you. In an attempt to fix this problem, I set my Facebook user profile to friends-only access. But by now I’m so ruined by my addiction to the flood of retweets, favorites, and replies I get from public posts to my big audience, I spend less time sharing privately.
You get addicted to the approval of strangers. The addiction to the attention you get from a crowd of strangers turns you into a performer instead of a sharer. You look for cheap laughs, stars, retweets, and replies, instead of meaningful conversation with people you actually care about.
Your view of the world gets skewed. An outsized audience presents problems like the ones listed here that no one else has. When you have a big audience, you’re the 1% of the web, and that means your view of the world is skewed. You get paranoid about privacy, cynical about requests from friends, and impatient about misunderstandings.
I would argue that anyone who is on Twitter and is gaining popularity in the blogosphere can get addicted to the approval of strangers. It’s an odd behavior — we seek reassurance from people we’ve never met rather than the ones close to us.
(Hat Tip: @cherilucas)