intention is everything
intention is everything
on why i refuse to call my content calendar “content calendar”
this is is the first installment of a new column i’m starting to help myself publish more consistently: the afternoon dispatches. these are shorter reflections compared to my usual longer musings. if you’d like to receive future reflections like this in your inbox every week, please consider becoming a subscriber!
last october i tweeted about wanting to crowdsource a name for my content calendar dashboard in notion that doesn’t include the words “content” and “calendar” in it. as with everything post-elon twitter, it got zero responses. it could be that the “xwitter” algorithm was suppressing my tweet so that nobody saw it.
it doesn’t take a genius to know that i’m the biggest hater of the word “content” on the internet (and if you didn’t then, you do now). the most common argument people sometimes throw back at me is that “content” has only merely become an umbrella term, almost a technical one, to describe something that fills the space of a medium on the internet. but the fact they’re telling me this only further reveals the reason why it never sits right with me: the intentionality of turning our work into something that “fills the space” instead of something we deliberately make space for, something so meaningful that it deserves its own space instead of the other way around.
in the context of the film industry, even big names like martin scorsese and guillermo del toro have stepped up and took this matter into their own hands. it’s diabolical to see the reduction and homogenization that are being done by streaming services to moving images for the sake of keeping people on their platforms. and while others might think, “what does this industry-scale fight have to do with my process?” it’s the innocence of the question that terrifies me, to realize that on a slightly smaller scale, people have been unconsciously practicing the same thing to their own work.
when people call their content planner a “content engine”, “content flywheel”, or even “content operating system”, my first thought is always: why does the practice of “content creation” have to be heavily affiliated with machinery? the use of machines implies productivity, and productivity is almost always being measured by constant output, if not volume. productivity is the near enemy of creativity, and it operates on eliminating everything that slows down the machine - sometimes that includes creativity itself1.
to put it another way: are we not just creating for the sake of creating?
if yes, then i don’t think i’ll be participating in that.
i’m also not saying that i’ll be policing everyone who still calls their publishing system “content calendar”. everyone is allowed to call their content calendar whatever they want. but i profoundly believe that we are the product of the environment we create for ourselves, and that intention is everything.
so when i open up Notion and go to this dashboard, i’m perfectly happy to see my 9358263 drafts lying around waiting to be edited and the calendar empty. it opens up a whole other can of worms on how i plan to build the practice of publishing consistently, but the point is that i don’t feel compelled to fill out this calendar just for the sake of keeping my “audience” “engaged”. it’s only there for when my writings are truly ready to go out and see the world.
ladies and gentlemen, i want you all to meet: my word station :)
the quotes i put there is by annie dillard, which i found through
’s brilliant essay:One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.
i hope that this reflection unlocks something for you. and if it does, i’d love for you to reach out and tell me about it!
you can grab the template below.
thinking in movies
a movie that goes with this week’s reflection is billy wilder’s ace in the hole (1951).
as we talk about sacrificing creativity for the sake of productivity, this movie becomes a twisted looking glass on how things are unironically the same now as they were over 70 years ago. newspaper business (runs by kirk douglas’ character) is this movie’s substack publications, and the question that it asks over to us is: how far would you go to keep your audience engaged?
it’s dark and cynical, but brilliant nonetheless. i’d love for you to give this one a try.
thanks josh ponelat for this helpful reword!