Ryan McNeil
Permit me a moment.
As you probably know, besides doing a lot of watching to feed my writing and podcasting, I also do a lot of reading and a lot of listening. I read other sites – big and small – for varying opinions and perspectives. I look for positions that re-enforce my own, and positions that directly challenge my own. I seek out content that inspires me not just through ideas that seem like something I can mould into my own, but also for ideas I know I could never pull off. In short, there are a lot of corners of the moviegoing internet that I frequent.
…but what about those that I stop frequenting?
This is not meant to be something where I name something specific, or point any fingers, but something I wanted to say out loud because I wager that other bloggers have been there too. You find a site, a blog, a feed, a podcast, and it seems like a fun little time-waster. You might link to their content, engage in conversation, even collaborate on work that covers common ground. Their platform might be a source of great humour, a source of clarity, or even something that says things in a way you wish you could say.
But then, for whatever reason, you stop following their work.
It’s not a new sensation in the least. Ever been into a band, and then suddenly stopped caring about them after a lacklustre album or two? It’s the same as that. At the same time though it’s different because as writers/podcasters/vloggers/etc we’re all part of a bigger community. Drifting isn’t exactly like taking that band’s posters down off your wall. In fact, eking away from online content sometimes feels like not walking past a neighbour’s house because you don’t want to get pulled into a conversation.
There might not even be a reason why you’ve drifted away; It could just be that you’re running in a different circle. The way we lose touch with friends, and start hanging out with new friends; so it goes online.
But what about when it is deliberate?
What about that moment when a post, or conversation, or comment section run amok suddenly strikes a nerve? We’ve all been there. Something gets said (or doesn’t get said) and a nerve we almost forgot about is suddenly struck. It’s that nerve that when struck says “I’m out”, and after making a comment or two to someone in the know, we just stop reading/listening/watching/etc. Should we feel guilty about these sorts of decisions? If we are on the other side of the coin – if we’re the one who has “lost a follower” – should we feel something akin to guilt? Obviously, it all depends on the circumstance, and I had two moments this week that nestled into two different sets of circumstances…both strangely enough revolved around podcasts.
The first situation was when I heard an episode of a podcast hinged to a very large website. For a few episodes now, I’ve noticed the discussion was getting sillier and sillier. It wasn’t that I disagreed with the podcasters opinions (though I did), more that the podcasters inability to listen to the other side was growing tiresome. The talent involved with this podcast is intelligent, so to go on such a string of stubbornness is curious to say the least. Still, this week, that nerve was struck, and I quietly muttered “I’m out”.
In this situation of course, nothing more is needed. While the podcast was a massive influence on my own show, nobody involved with the show knows me, so any sort of “sayonara” would be useless.
The second situation revolved around a podcast closer to my own weight class. In this case, there was the same sort of downward slope of material, but it was more compounded by the show’s sudden change in direction. That nerve wasn’t hit this time, instead it was a sensation of looking around the table and realizing that someone had got up and moved while I wasn’t looking. This time, when I grabbed my headphones and pressed play to hear what I’d been missing, I found myself quietly muttering “not much”.
In this situation, something more could be done, but I have no idea what. If the talent lived in my town, I’d still make the effort to spend time together and keep contact. I might not be a big fan of the work, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people – far from it actually. Thing is, I don’t feel like pointing out that I’ve stopped following, and as such, I’m feeling a bit cowardly.
By now, I’d wager that many of you have been there. You’ve stopped following a pro, or you’ve stopped following a friend. The question I ask is “what then”?
Obviously it’s not them; it’s you. We end up wanting other things, or growing disenchanted. To tell a person “You aren’t as awesome as I thought you once were” is pretty immature, somewhat dickish, and serves little purpose. But to quietly slip out the side door when they aren’t looking feels wrong too.
Does it even matter in an internet age? I know I’ve lost followers through the years, and while I miss talking with them and lobbing ideas around, I haven’t lost too much sleep over their absence. It just feels so strange…that we have reached a place where we can find people so easily, and forget about them just as easily. I asked you to permit me a moment, and I’d wager that my moment is almost up. Let me leave you with this: Perhaps we should acknowledge the online contacts that come and go, perhaps we shouldn’t. At the end of the day, maybe we should just consider these comings and goings like a summer fling: Something to end before it turns really ugly.
PREACH. It’s tough in a blogger-as-friend-and-colleague world to make those distinctions, and many bloggers can’t ‘handle’ it when you criticize, disagree, or argue a point. Or disagree with their content or style. They take it personally. So how do you make distance, should you deem it necessary, without hurting their feelings or (perhaps more importantly, in some regards) burning a professional bridge? I, for one, haven’t figured it out myself.
Sometimes it feels like moving away from the topic-at-hand is the best way to agree to disagree. It’s funny too, because Thursday night I got into one of the best film arguments I’ve had in ages, but because it was face-to-face it avoided any misunderstandings or snide jabs.
I use to keep up with loads of blogs in my feed, but that was back when the movie blogging community felt smaller. But between doing my own blogging/podcasting thing and having a life outside of that community, I found myself with little time to keep up with the growing blog roll. So I quickly, and quietly, jumped ship for the most part. Honestly, there isn’t a single site I read faithfully anymore, unless a Twitter/FB link catches my eye. I hate having this attitude, but helping my daughter learn her alphabet seems more productive than reading 50 reviews of the same new release.
Before that, the only real offense that made me jump ship was when someone’s blog/site started getting too big. I didn’t begrudge them a larger audience, but when they had the ego to go along with it, I was gone. If you’re in it for the numbers, you’re in it for the wrong reasons.
I was ok with my waning blog reading because I still kept up with plenty of podcasts, that didn’t cut into real life. In fact podcast listening helps me get through mundane chores on the weekends. Sadly, this has taken a sharp nosedive in the last month, and my double digit show count has dropped to 2-3 regular shows in rotation. I blame an overall sense of apathy that I simply cannot shake. Eh, it’s probably hormonal.
I hadn’t thought of that – moving on for reasons of changing routine. That’s a good point because as communities changes (as they always do), they can often lose the allure of what brought one there in the first place.
Hmmm…I guess if you’re still commenting here with regularity, that means I haven’t become all that “big”. Damn…I thought I was getting somewhere.
Well you have…but you’re not entirely a dick about it.
It’s weird… I barely ever have this feeling for the main reason that I barely engage the community that well. I keep saying I will but I don’t. There are very few blogs that I read that I will be loud on the commenting boards. Therefore when I decide to jump ship it doesn’t feel that bad because I feel that the writer(s) wont really know. Also my connection to the community comes through twitter more than anything else. And there I barely ever have to jump ship really.\
I have over the last few months cutting down the people I follow and I play by a rule of being someone who doesn’t really engage with me and what I feel about the content of your tweets. If for example I see someone on Friday dole out a series (sometimes a dozen) tweets of FF where it’s obvious he has to hail everyone I will unfollow, if I feel all the feed is there for is the tweet links to his blog I will unfollow and all sorts of other things. When I started twitter I took any recommendation to follow a user saying, “hey another blogger about film” and more and more that is changing for me. Who’s gotten the biggest cut in my twitter following has been a lot of Jamaican twitter people since I find them to get really ridiculous so easily… but such is life.
Podcasts (as you saw in an old post where I put up my list of subscriptions) I listen to a lot, but some I keep on hold to listen to only when they have guest I’m interested in, or a film review that I’ve already seen… but gone are the days of me holding onto an episode of the /FilmCast for three months waiting for me to see the movie before listening to it (yes I used to do that)…
I feel ya is what I’m saying.
*That’s* where I’m going wrong…I need to become less active.
Brilliant Robinson…absolutely brilliant.
Ryan, this is definitely an issue that I’m thinking about pretty often. Lately, I’ve been struggling to find a balance with reading the blogs I like and listening to podcasts without it getting overwhelming. I’ve tried to pare down what I take in to my favorites, but then I start finding new ones and the cycle repeats.
I’ve definitely noticed cases where I start losing interest in the blogs and podcasts that I used to love. Like you say in the post, it’s generally me that’s looking for something different, but there are exceptions. I’m sure this has happened for people with my blog too, so it’s totally understandable. It does get trickier when you know the person, though for me I know of few bloggers in St. Louis.
Since most of us are doing these sites as personal passion projects, our approaches aren’t going to work for everyone. I do love the fact that there are so many great writers out there for me to follow, but finding the time is another matter. It’s rarely personal when I stop following someone; there’s always the search for that comfort zone.
See, but the way our sites and blogs overlap, I don’t confine “people I know in person” to just my friends here in town. For instance, earlier in this comment section there was a note from Rachel Thuro. I’ve never been within 100 miles of her, but I consider her to be “someone I know in person” for how far back our blogging relationship goes.
So were I to stop following Reel Insight (perish the thought), it’s feel like I’m not supporting my friend anymore.
You make a good point. There definitely are cases where I’m spending more time on a blog or podcast because I’ve connected with the person on podcasts, Twitter, etc. When it goes beyond saying “Good review” in a comment and getting a “Thanks!” response, then I’m more likely to keep visiting when schedules get busier. When I mentioned St. Louis, I was thinking more in comparison to somewhere like Toronto, where I know there are a lot of bloggers who are friends in person too. I’m still looking for that kind of community here.
That makes sense, and indeed it is trickier to drift from supporting someone’s site when they’re a person one runs into at the theatre, film festival, or the bar. Again, speaking from experience.
The blogosphere is very fluent and I think you shouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Our interests come and go. Sometimes you walk om the same path as another blogger for a while and then your paths take different turns for a while and then you might catch up again. Or not. It’s the way it is. I can’t understand people who need to track who has unfollowed them on Twitter. Seriously, I couldn’t care less.
The only thing that hurts a bit is if someone who you thought was a friend and were pretty close to without any explanation whatsoever suddenly cuts all ties. It has happened to me once and this person even blocked me on Twitter. I wrote an e-mail, asking why, but got no reply. I try to shrug it off, but I still feel kind of hurt. I guess I cared more about this particular virtual friendship than I should have. But I couldn’t help taking it as an insult. Unfollowing or just dropping off is not an insult. It’s ok. I do the same. No explanations are needed or asked for.
That’s the funny thing though: the interests lead to people we think of as friends. So if we stop being interested, does that mean we stop being friends?
Only if you block someone on twitter and don’t reply to letters. This is a special case which leaves me clueless.
Oh Ryan, you’re always so eloquent and diplomatic in these types of posts! I definitely feel you, and I know it’s hard to not feel guilty when you pull away from a site or podcast or writer that you’ve been actively following for a while. I agree that quietly pulling out seems like the best way, even if it feels strange. There are several sites I’ve pulled away from, just because the content interests me less than it used to or maybe the style/format has changed, but I try to check in once in a while to see if I still feel the same way. I tend to keep following people on twitter even if I’ve lost interest in their blogs, that way I’ll still be reminded of them and can keep an eye on what they’re up to, writing-wise. I can only assume lots of people have stopped reading my site, especially since my posts are more erratic now that I’m juggling grad school and work. But hey, no big deal, my feelings aren’t hurt. I assume I’m talking into a void anyway!
I became less engaged with the film blog community when a lot of my favorite sites closed down or started posting really infrequently, and it was daunting to try and find new bloggers who so closely fit my taste/interests. I can barely keep up with the ones who are still around! It’s hard to get back into it as real life obligations continue to eat away at my online time, I guess, especially since most of my limited free time is devoted to art projects and, once in a while, actually watching a movie.
Anyway great post, you’re awesome, sorry to ramble, etc.
Shucks Kittle, yer makin’ me blush.
Know what’s weird? It’s Twitter where I’m more cutthroat because I find that following too many feeds makes it impossible to really get content from any of them (since things just go too fast).
But yeah – counter to what our better judgement would have us believe, slinking out the side door certainly seems the way to go.
The good thing about blogs/sites about a certain interest is that they’re always relatively easy to find. And if you weed through the comment section of one, you can learn about another, and another. It’s like a support group: You might not feel the need to go, but it’s always there if you feel the twinge.
And you’re awesomer than me.
I don’t always believe the idea of “it’s not them, it’s me” concept, because I’ve noticed a lack of originality in the blogosphere. That being said, I’ve also noticed a lot of creative blogs that are constantly updating and keeping me engaged. Sometimes it can be a “me” issue, but in my personal experience, I get tired of reading blog after blog saying the same damn thing about Skyfall or Argo or whatever. If Tippi or I blog about a film that’s currently in theaters, we want it to have an edge or spark debate. Tippi is better at sparking debates than I am, but I think the back-and-forth communication between bloggers is great…whether or not it stays (:
That’s an interesting point, and one I could have dug into: When we’re all talking about the same things, how does any of us make our voices heard? It’s one of the reasons I like to follow sites dedicated to home video, or classic film…not that reading the seventy-sixth post about 007 isn’t joyous.
Thinking of your site, I’m reminded of your CLOUD ATLAS post, one that I kept coming back to and furthering the discussion. I didn’t even agree with what was being said, but I liked that your post took a position on the film rather than just said “we watched this”.
So yeah – sometimes it’s not me, it’s them…maybe I’m just trying to avoid confrontation.
Tippi’s entry on Cloud Atlas was definitely our most controversial posts to date. But I know you agree that controversial posts (that argue a valid point and don’t bitch to bitch) are more interesting to read than movie reviewing 101. Your site, and others I follow, are extremely unique in their creativity, which is what keeps me coming back 🙂
Just drop by to say that this is a great topic, one blogger never said but thinks. It happened to me too, and I couldn’t help but think ‘Is it me?’. I still don’t know why up until now. But you know, people come and go. And I am grateful the ones I considered pretty close are still there. One common positive thought I always think was ‘I guess he/she was busy’ and I too sometimes can feel overwhelmed with reading favorite blogs. Nice post!!
Thanks Andina – drop by more often, won’t you?
The fluidity of it all is what helps me shrug it off. I think to myself, “Well, I might not comment on this person’s site any more, but these three new people do – so I won’t be missed”
Softens the blow.
Ha2 I’ll try to visit more often 🙂 I’ve been feeling overwhelmed too with my own activities.
I’m quite ruthless in this way. Feeling guilt or tip-toeing around this just takes up too much brain power, it’s unnecessary.
I used to follow the Bob Lefsetz Letter religiously. But then I realised he’s just a hack spewing the same thing again and again and again. He even used the same words and phrased in nearly every article. It’s boring! I get nothing new. So I tuned out.
Just like I used to listen to the ‘Widescreen Warriors’ podcast, followed them from way back when they were on Cinema Blend. But they just love their own voices a bit too much, and they’re so Hollywood centric. And they do that annoying American thing where they’re excited by the advertising campaigns, they’ll talk about how ‘cool’ all the trailers and gimmicks are.
I realised, this is not what I love about movies, at all!
So I tuned out.
And I lose readers all the time. Sometimes because I’m controversial, more often than not because I kind of randomly dance around topics — i.e., I might spend months talking like some indie film guru, then suddenly I’ll switch to writing heartfelt posts about Dawson’s Creek.
That just doesn’t work for some people, and fair enough! And even right now, I’m not blogging that often, I don’t have much to say. To be honest, I’ve tuned out of myself! So I won’t be offended if you have soon.
It’s life. It’s like friendships, and relationships. It goes hot and cold. It’s life, but people usually come back around.
Holy shit – a comment from The Kid!
Thank you for summing up in a few sentences what I was trying to express with a few hundred words. Interestingly, I too stopped reading The Letter after a while. Lefsetz just seemed far too curmudgeonly for my liking.
I guess in the end, these sorts of relationships aren’t supposed to be monogamous until death do us part. We are meant more to come and go as the writers grow, and as we grow too.
Thanks for helping me understand that.
I think it’s become easy to assume in this digital age that no one should ever lose connections with people. With so many venues available to conversing/seeing/meeting people how could people lose touch?
But that’s an unreasonable amount of effort to assume from one’s self. It really is just the flow of life. People enter. People exit.
Amen brother!
This is quite uncanny that I come across your eloquently-written post as I just did the exact thing you described. It’s kind of been a long time coming as I feel that this blogger and I just don’t see eye to eye, so I removed the blog from my blogroll and un-follow that person on Twitter. I realize some people have done the same to me as well, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt but hey, it happens so you just have to move on and do your best.
Of course, you now have me completely curious about which blogger you “broke up” with.
We all come and go, I think it’s hard to take it personally on either end of the equation.
Great post. There’s so much to discuss on this topic. I’ve been thinking a lot about this too. I would say about six months into blogging (and it’s been over 4 years now) I stopped regularly following everyone on my blog roll. And, concurrently, I’ve noticed wild fluctuations in numbers of comments and more notably, WHO’s commenting.
What you are describing is a general phenomenon, and it’s interesting to examine in that light, because I usually notice my own particulars. To wit: posting speeds fluctuate – at times I’ve even taken months of (once I actually prematurely declared ‘the end’ which is where most of the commentators dropped off and never reappeared); posting topics and approaches change – I regard blogging the way Woody Allen regarded relationships, as a shark that must constantly move forward and I have no compunction about going off on impulsive tangents in terms of what films I cover and how I cover them, my site being a passion project above all else people may dig one set of passions and not the rest, therefore dropping off; no new releases – when my blog began I didn’t dwell on films new to theater or DVD, but they were there, while over time they have pretty much disappeared from the site thus removing me from the conversations most other blogs are having.
I’m sure every blogger has personal aspects like these, maybe even some of the same ones. Also, I wrote “commentator” for a reason, because that’s really the only way I have to judge who’s reading – otherwise how do I know? A few times someone I thought had dropped off pops up randomly and I find out they were just lurking after all, still reading but not feeling inclined to comment. I’ve done the same on other sites. You never really know who’s out there.
Finally, I’d like to add one caveat to your analogy between blogging and dating: just as the romance doesn’t have to be forever, neither does the breakup. Many times I’ve abandoned blogs for months, years even, only to rediscover them at an unexpected moment. That’s exactly what happened here – I didn’t even know you were still blogging until I stumbled across your new location and I’ve been checking in ever since.
I’ve designed my blog roll not just for readers, but for myself: a picture and title for every blog (and I don’t generally remove them from there), updated by who’s posted most recently. Thus when I’m on my own site I can scroll down the list and see what catches my eye. Sometimes a site I haven’t visited in forever will have a catchy title or discuss a film I find fascinating, and I’ll return to the fold.
My biggest, teeth-grinding issue with the blogosphere is how fleeting and ephemeral the approach to it is. That shows itself in this phenomenon, that people will drop a blog (which is fine) but then assume it’s 100% over. Why? Keep tabs, there’s certainly no cost to doing so (I’m not talking about twitter feeds here, but the scrolling-blog roll-at-your-own-pace approach). Oftentimes I’ve thought, Hmmm so and so wouldn’t care about my last x posts but they would have loved this one, too bad they disappeared!
That also ties into my other dissatisfaction, which has been with me since my earliest blogging days – that only the latest matters. To me, if what you write today wont matter tomorrow, it doesn’t matter much today either. I’ve seen some rectification if this with directories, lists of reviews on the sidebar, archives, etc – but the blogging format still way overprivileges fresh comment. I try to find ways around that myself.
One last thought, offered cautiously (because your site, among others, seems to feature a lively community and interactive qualities): the blogosphere seems, in general, to have become a bit less convivial over time. Just a few years ago, memes were all the rage for example – bloggers riffing on each other’s themes and trading lists, posts, or topics back and forth. I haven’t seen one of those since 2010 at least. This is the most obvious way I’ve noticed a down tick in cross-blog pollination but there are many others as well, usually more anecdotal/situation-specific.
Well, hopefully this posts. I’ve been having trouble commenting on here lately, but I’m gonna save this one, maybe turn it into a rumination on my own site one of these days.