Focus over FOMO

Most authors start their platform journey the same way people start a new workout plan. Full of energy, full of ambition, and completely unrealistic about what it actually takes to see results.

They open their laptop one afternoon and decide something has to change. They’ve written the book, or they’re deep in the process, and they know, at least intellectually, that “building a platform” matters. They’ve heard it from agents, publishers, podcasts, marketing gurus, and every author success story they’ve studied.

So they do what any motivated, slightly overwhelmed person does.

They look around.

And what they see is noise.

One author is going viral on TikTok, another is building a massive newsletter on Substack, someone else is dominating LinkedIn with thoughtful essays, and a YouTuber is breaking down writing tips in slick, cinematic videos. Everywhere they look, someone seems to be succeeding somewhere else.

And that’s where the quiet panic starts.

“If they’re winning there, I probably need to be there too.”

So the author makes a plan. A very ambitious plan.

They create accounts everywhere, design banners, write bios, and announce their presence like they’ve just opened a dozen storefronts overnight. They post a thoughtful thread on Twitter, upload a video to YouTube, share a quote graphic on Instagram, write an article on LinkedIn, and start a Substack.

For about three weeks, it feels productive. Even exciting. Then something subtle happens.

Nothing happens.

No traction, no momentum, no clear feedback loop. Just silence spread across five different platforms.

And that silence is exhausting, because every platform has its own rules, its own language, and its own invisible expectations. Each one quietly demands something different. More time. More learning. More energy.

What the author thought would create visibility actually creates fragmentation.

Instead of building one strong signal, they’re sending weak signals everywhere. Instead of compounding effort, they’re constantly starting over. Instead of feeling momentum, they feel scattered.

And eventually, like most people, they conclude something deeply misleading:

“Maybe I’m just not good at this.”

But that isn’t the truth.

The truth is much simpler. They were never failing at content. They were failing at focus.

No one becomes good at a platform until they’ve done a lot of it, and “a lot” is almost always far more than people imagine. Hundreds of posts. Hundreds of videos. Hundreds of newsletters.

Not a handful. Not occasional bursts of motivation. Consistency over time is what creates skill, comfort, and eventually visibility.

This is where another hidden struggle shows up.

Most authors don’t actually dislike social media. They dislike feeling uncomfortable on social media. They dislike the awkward early stage where everything feels forced, where they don’t know what to say, where engagement is low, and where it feels like talking into a void.

So they do what humans naturally do when something feels uncomfortable.

They escape. They tell themselves the platform isn’t right for them, they switch, and they start fresh somewhere new where hope feels high again.

And the cycle repeats. But growth does not come from starting over. Growth comes from staying long enough for the awkward phase to pass. And that only happens when an author answers a much more important question than “Where should I be posting?”

The real question, in my opinion, is something better.

“What kind of expression actually feels natural to me?”

Some authors think best through writing. Their clarity sharpens when they put words on a page, and for them, platforms built around written ideas are powerful. Places like LinkedIn, Substack, Medium, or their own blog offer something incredibly valuable.

Distribution.

They don’t require performance. They reward depth. They allow an author to think in public, which is often where their best ideas emerge.

Other authors process ideas through speaking. Their energy rises when they explain concepts out loud, and for them, video or audio becomes the natural path.

But even then, the reality is sobering.

Most people don’t enjoy staring into a camera lens, they don’t enjoy articulating half-formed thoughts in real time, and they definitely don’t enjoy watching themselves back. Which means if they choose video without genuinely leaning into it, they won’t last long enough to improve.

And improvement is the entire game.

Because no platform rewards dabbling.

They reward commitment.

Every platform is, in a sense, an ecosystem. It has a rhythm, a culture, and a certain way people interact. You cannot simply “post everywhere” and expect meaningful growth anywhere.

That approach spreads energy thin and kills momentum before it has a chance to build.

The authors who actually grow understand something quietly powerful.

They pick one place, they stay, they learn how it works, they observe what resonates, and they refine their voice over time. They show up when it’s boring, when engagement is low, and when it feels like no one is paying attention.

Because they understand something most beginners miss. Visibility is not created by presence. It’s created by repetition.

People don’t remember the author who appeared once in ten places. They remember the author who showed up consistently in one. That’s how recognition forms. That’s how trust builds. That’s how an audience slowly, almost invisibly, begins to grow.

So the goal is not to be everywhere.

The goal is to be somewhere long enough that people can’t ignore you. Ultimately, platform growth is not a game of expansion first.

It’s a game of focus.

And once focus turns into consistency, consistency turns into skill. Skill turns into confidence. Confidence turns into momentum. And momentum is what finally makes everything else possible.

If you need support and some accountability, mixed with some real strategy tailored to you and your author brand. Message me, I've helped dozens of authors grow all type sof opportunities from organic marketing.

Keep smiling, I know it's hard these days, but it's important.

Have a great weekend.

Hussein