If we started TikTok again...

Hey kids! Welcome back! Thanks for being here.

If Doc and Marty McFly pulled up outside your house right now with the opportunity to go back and change the past, would you take it? That's the question we're tackling today.

You can't change the past... but you sure can complain about it. Let's dive in!

I genuinely think that I’d be in a completely different position today, had I not let a certain setback deter me when I was just 12 years old. Here’s what happened, and what I woulda-coulda-shoulda done differently.

Growing up as an only child, I had a peculiar sense of wonder and exploration. This led my interests of close-up magic and filmmaking to collide in the form of a YouTube channel entitled “punchwater” - for some reason. It was there, at the young age of 10 that I began teaching easy card tricks, and cutting together sleight-of-hand montages.

Before I knew it, I found myself in love with the process of filming, editing, and uploading card magic tutorials.

My seemingly-unstoppable momentum fluttered me through the end of elementary school, garnering me over 30,000 subscribers. Kids from all over the world were flocking to my videos to learn how to impress their friends and family. But everything screeched to a halt the second I stepped through the doors of a brand new stage of my life: middle school.

It wasn’t just any middle school - it was an art middle school. Kids there, myself included, had to audition to get in. I could almost feel the words “new kid” being etched onto my face by the eyes of other students as I walked into my first class.

I was intimidated. No longer was I the only kid at school who had a YouTube channel or knew how to film things. It seemed like every other guy I met was posting little skits online. However, it wasn’t until I showed up, that kids started making content about me.

This was a first.

I woke up one morning to find a link to a video made under the channel “Slapmilk,” mocking my videos about card magic. Several other videos were uploaded that same day belittling my channel through imitation. The best part? I showed up at school that morning and everyone in my grade had seen the parody channel - and sided with it.

It was a massive blow to my ego and one that I didn’t forget for a while. It was my first real taste of the consequences of putting yourself and your art out there for people to judge freely. I stopped making videos for a couple of years and worried more about fitting in than building an audience.

Becoming a creator is a relentless pursuit of vulnerability - no matter what you do, if you’re on-screen, you’re letting your guard down, and you have to be ready for whatever comes your way.

I understand this now, but I would give just about anything to have myself from 14 years ago realize the same thing.

It can certainly feel like we learn our most vital lessons too late. If I’d just been prompt to that interview, if I’d listened in school, If I knew that person would screw me over - we’d all be billionaires.

We love our “what if’s”, don’t we?

Like a lot of you, last year I fell madly in love with creating. For the first nine months, it seized my head, dictating every thought, every decision. I favoured making a TikTok over completing a uni assignment. I studied editing instead of socialising. I compared myself to others, when I should’ve just enjoyed the others.

But the worst part - was how much influence I gave this little page of mine over my health. What’s my “what if”? What if I’d just realised - so much earlier - that it doesn’t have to be this way?

What if it didn’t take me a full year to detach my self-worth from the numbers on a screen? Or a negative comment or two? What if I didn’t feel overwhelming guilt and shame if I hadn’t posted in a few days? What if I’d just realised - that making art that I’m proud of - is enough?

To quote Tom Hanks:

“This too shall pass.”

This wave of triumph, that valley of despair, the slap of regret, the flash of pride. It all passes. That’s the lesson I eventually learned. If I were starting fresh today, I’d know what to expect in this department - but there’d be another obstacle in its place, inevitably.

In short, it’s not that deep. Sure, I’m a huge advocate for taking all of this seriously, if you’re serious about it. But there’s a difference between taking something seriously and never taking it lightly. Loosen up a little. I mentioned this last week - but we’re in no rush. Class has only just started.

We’re wired to identify hurdles and then weaponize them against ourselves. Because a journey without conflict is no journey. We all know this, one way or another. It’s why our instinct is to regret the past. To villainize. By explicitly expressing “this is what held me back from succeeding,” we create a safety net. Insurance against the doubters.

By no means are any of us immune to this. We’ve all blamed, we’ve all pointed fingers. The only thing we can try to do - is to slowly move over the speed bumps, instead of violently swerving around them.

The last six months have been tough. I’ve had virtually no growth on social media, felt lost on what my mission was, what my format was, and at many points I questioned if this path as a content creator is what I’m supposed to do.

TikTok would only let me pull data from limited date ranges but this graph is pretty representative of what my growth has been for the last six months.

It’s weird to say but I would consider myself a TikTok veteran, although it’s only been barely two years. I’ve noticed that there are these phases every TikToker goes through…

• The cringey beginning

• The video that sparks extraordinary high growth

• The post that will garner mountains of hate

• The celebrity who comments on your video

• and inevitably, The Slow Down.

When we look at the TikTok creators who were on TOP of the world in 2020, and see if they still have a monetizable brand today… I would bet less than 5% do and it’s because of, The Slow Down.

It’s brutal and demoralizing. Especially when you watch everyone else blaze past you.

So, how the fuck do you get out of, The Slow Down?

It comes down to the scientific method. Tejas whaaat? The thing we learned in grade school? Yes.

Being a successful creator is learning to constantly innovate. If that means production quality, style, storytelling abilities, whatever. I knew this, however the thought of just changing things and hoping for the best is overwhelming and six months ago, I wished I applied the scientific method.

I tried a new script, it failed. Fuck. Tried making it more vlog-y, it did eh. Fuck. Tried a new topic, it worked, and then didn’t. Fuck.

I tried so many things and my mental health was enslaved to this algorithm, it was bad.

It wasn’t until I hired my editor, Liz, and was forced to create these timelines and gameplans that I realized was indirectly… the scientific method.

Create a hypothesis, test with an experiment, analyze data and draw conclusions. Stop just throwing one thing at the algorithm and make a conclusion.

Now I try a format, most recently my series on the “Dark Side of Social Media Fame”, and stick to a concrete plan - Try at least ten videos of this nature, with these topics, and this format. Make a conclusion after testing it for some time.

The first video didn't do well… nor the second, nor the third. But the fourth hit 7 million views and sparked the rest of them.

If I didn’t give myself this plan, I would’ve given up after the first video. Who knew the process my sixth grade science teacher taught me was the answer to modern day creator innovation.

What would you say to your younger self, if given the opportunity? What would you do differently? Conversely, what would you keep the same?

Let us know! We're eager to know.

Thanks for being here, explorer. See you next week :)