Casting Pods in the Woods

Yes, I really do like the sound of my own voice. But I think I possess, biased though I am, a pretty nice voice; a rich, loud baritone that cuts through the noisiest restaurants and captures the attention of babies everywhere. I can carry a tune, I can do various accents, I can impersonate other people, and above all, I can talk your freaking ears off. If you know me, you probably already resent this behavior.

You could see, then, how my foray into podcasting was inevitable. I’ve recently published the 6th monthly episode of my own program, and after half a year working on a project, I started to reflect.

Naw, I’m just kidding. I asked my Twitter followers what I should write about on Medium, and the first suggestion was podcasting. Might as well start out with honesty, right?

But I have chewed over some thoughts and questions on podcasting after all this time. Is anybody listening? If only a handful of people are listening, is there any value to sharing these conversations online? What if nobody is listening?

These questions aren’t unique to podcasting, nor to most other vain Internet hobbies (hang on while I check my Flickr stats…). They probably sound like the start of a freshman college philosophy paper about the intrinsic value of art. So I’m not really interested in addressing the root of these feelings, or trying to find universal answers to my questions. Not here at least. I just want to talk about why I podcast; that is, why I bother spending time and effort to prepare for, record, edit, and publish what could otherwise be perfectly enjoyable, ephemeral conversations with friends.

The simple answer is that I like the process. It’s a big part of why I still shoot a lot of film photography (and develop it myself). There’s enjoyment in learning how to do something with sub-process and ordered steps, each with independent room for improvement. Maybe this month my sound mix is a little better. Maybe I finally figured out how to properly apply a noise gate. Maybe I’ve been at this long enough that I say “um” half as often as when I started.

I derive great satisfaction and motivation from reviewing my old work and recognizing how far I’ve come since the start. I derive even greater satisfaction every month when I wrap-up audio editing and export the finished product. It’s not because I made the best podcast. It’s because I made something.

Would I be happy if people listened to (and liked) my podcast? Sure. When other people enjoy what I make, I feel both pleased to have made somebody else happy, and validated that I’m not wasting my time. But chasing after listeners (or followers, or photo favorites, etc.) would be ruinous. I’d always need more or worry that I’m doing something wrong if the number dropped. If I can do this thing for myself when almost nobody is listening, I don’t have to worry about what other people think if they ever do listen.