(This post was originally posted on LinkedIn—you can read it here.)

There’s this lie I tell myself pretty regularly:

“No one is going to read this anyway—it doesn’t matter what I say.”

I think I first started saying this to myself back in the Elder Days, back when I thought I’d be writing manuals for the rest of my life. (Before I rescued you from a life of misery. You’re welcome. –Heather Steele)

I think it made writing easier—I don’t have to fear writing whatever I want (because no one cares, no one is going to read it).

Who cares if I end a sentence with a preposition? Or write a sentence without a subject? Or throw in phrases willy nilly?

No one is reading this, so it doesn’t matter.

People Are Reading Your Stuff—You Just Might Not Know It

Unless, you know, you’re some sort of genius and you use crazy stuff like analytics and looking at numbers of views.

Psssshhhh I say to that!

That requires work or something.

I think that lie above actually served me really well, and it can still serve me well. One of the best parts about it is it allows me to write without editing—to stop censoring myself during the process and write something that might actually not be a total pile of crap.

It lets me be more honest in my writing—and that means more to most people than anything else (at least, it does to me).

I feel like this has implications for my life generally, but I’m going to ignore that for the moment.

A couple months ago, I think I was still kind of operating under this assumption—no one’s reading this, it doesn’t matter—until I had a few conversations with some friends and acquaintances.

I ran into a friend of mine I rarely get to see, and he said something really weird:

“Hey, I’ve read some of that stuff you’re writing—good stuff, I liked it.”

Or, you know, close enough.

I think I muttered a “Hey, thanks…” and we moved on to other topics, but for some reason this really surprised me. I wanted to dismiss it, but it happened at least two more times within a couple weeks.

And it really wasn’t until about an hour ago that I thought, “Holy ****, people are reading this stuff!”

Why would I have that thought?

Ok, confession time.

I Run Some Social Media Accounts… And I Don’t Always Read What You Share 🙁

In fact, I sometimes don’t read it at all.

…Do you hear that? That’s the sound of all 12 of my followers clicking the unfollow button.

It’s my greatest shame—I simply don’t have enough hours in the day to read everything other people write. Instead, I’m focused on engagement and sharing something that’s quality.

I scan, I can tell it’s good, I share, I move on.

And with some people (like Carol Stephen, Bridget Willard, Robert Nissenbaum), I know their content is ALWAYS going to be good. In a pinch, I can rely on them to have something great to share.

I don’t need to read it.

And here’s my great mistake. I assume that because I’m time strapped and lazy probably that other people are too.

Then there’s this other weird thing I do—I assume only the people commenting are the ones actually reading.

If I Focus on the Comments, I Forget the Silent Majority

The people who comment on my posts are awesome, supportive, amazing, incredible, devoted friends. And I love them.

But they’re the minority.

The vast majority of people aren’t leaving comments.

(Well, the majority itself isn’t vast, but you get what I mean)

They’re reading what I write, they’re thinking about it, but they aren’t taking the time to comment. That could be for a variety of reasons. The biggest reason I don’t comment is I’m afraid I’ll sound like a moron, that I’ll sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about.

But I digress.

Reminding myself that for every comment there’s a bunch of people reading who aren’t commenting helps me be more conscious of my writing.

Or, you know, cripples me with anxiety, but whatever.

I think what it really does is to help me write something with my audience in mind, to think about their needs and write for them. I know for a lot of people writing isn’t something that comes easily, but for me the words always flowed liberally, and I very often fall into the trap of writing for myself and forgetting everyone else.

And that’s no good—my words are worthless without the people who read them. And while my words here might only reach a few, some of the stuff I write reaches a mind-boggling large number of people.

And I can’t forget they exist.

Audience Matters—Are You Writing for Them?

I feel like I talk about audience constantly, but I talk about it for a reason—

It’s the only reason any of us exist.

If there were no audience, if there was no one reading my stuff, if that silent majority wasn’t there, I’d be out of a job.

And so would you—are you writing for your audience?

I hope so.