There is a certain anonymity to blogging.
When I blog, it’s my words that get sent out into the world wide what (that’s right, they’re just words. I can change them up). I also write for Soompi. With writing, I don’t have to worry about if I have a pimple that day, if I have any make-up on, or if I’m wearing sweats. I don’t have to adjust a focusing ring or lighting or check audio levels. It’s a clean process. Words come to mind, I write them on my blog, I hit publish, we all move on with our lives.
With vlogging, there’s setup. Framing, lighting, audio. There’s video editing. It takes a whole lot more dedication, cost, and time commitment. Say there’s an estimated 3-4 hours of editing for a single 2 minute vlog, for example. There’s figuring out what to wear and what to say and hoping for a natural on-camera presence and, of course, there’s all of those photogenic people on YouTube to consider – that’s right. The Beautiful Photogenic People. You know who I’m talking about.
Then there’s the YouTube landscape. It’s big, it’s scary, and it’s very very very public. Probably why it’s so scary. A Big Scary Thing, you might call it.
There’s the number of views, a quantifiable measure of popularity, outreach, influence. What’s to differentiate you from everyone else setting their sights on YouTube?
But there’s also unlimited potential with where that kind of exposure may lead. It could lead to other goals that you want to pursue. You may find that your voice gets heard. Other opportunities that you may not have had in the past, may present themselves. There’s carving out your own path that may not otherwise be created, particularly as an Asian American in media.
Wong Fu Productions produced a feature length film which is now on Netflix. Dumbfoundead released a music video highlighting the whiteness of Hollywood.
Once you release your content into the world, you have no control over how people will react or how many people it will reach. You just do the work and hope for the best. Maybe that’s the heart of the concern: lack of control? Once your face is on camera and displayed in public, you lose a piece of anonymity. It’s a vulnerable thing to expose yourself.
I am an introvert. I don’t feel naturally comfortable in front of a camera. I’m not an actor, I don’t like being the center of attention, and I’d rather write a script than be the one everyone’s staring at. I like my privacy. There’s a certain level of comfort in being able to blend in to the background; to sit back and observe. I can choose to participate in something or slip away unnoticed.
And that is a BIG ASS advantage: being able to slip away unnoticed, right? Why is that, though? Why is it so important to me?
Other questions: Is my own fear holding me back? Am I getting in my own way? Is anonymity just more important to me than I thought?
On the other hand, I hate waiting for other people to give me the opportunity to do things. Waiting for someone else to hand me a big break, or recognize my passion, talent, or voice. It’s a big ass gamble, that whole waiting-for-Hollywood shtick. One could die waiting.
So here we are. We could stay inside, nice and warm and safely tucked in.
But it’s still on the brain.
To vlog or not to vlog.
From keeping under a safety net of at least some obscurity, to blazing your face out there on video, in that big scary public YouTube land.
But, then again, I’ve thrown myself into Big Scary Things before. Why is this so different? Because there’s less control over the outcome, maybe? ‘Cause that aftermath could be a hot freakin’ public mess from which no one can emerge unscathed?