What It’s Like to Have Fans: 3 Myths
August 10th, 2013 by Katie Morton
Lately I have been geeking out over John Newman (pictured above.) My irrational thoughts of worship for this person highlighted an interesting truth that I’d been denying.
I’ve been in the position recently to realize that I actually have “fans.” Yes, I write this awkwardly because this is weird to me. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have fans? I’m going to debunk three myths of what I thought before having fans.
1. Myth: You get fans because you set out to be discovered.
People get fans by being discovered. The requirements of being discovered are to be young and beautiful, and sometimes even talented. And then they get lucky. The right people find them. They accomplished a mission to get fans – it was their goal to get people to fawn all over them.
Truth: You get fans by finding your voice, alone.
To get fans, you need to put blinders on and get in your zone. You need to ugly cry by yourself. You need to spend a lot of time alone honing your craft, getting your 10,000 hours of practice. You need to deeply NOT CARE about fans or anyone else’s opinion in order to find your voice.
Have you ever gone to a small live music show and stood and watched a singer pour his heart and soul into a song? He scrunches up his face and he belts out lyrics like no one is watching. He feels the music in his body; he’s in the zone. And that is one of the sexiest scenes for people to witness, but this guy didn’t get on stage by spending 10,000 hours posing in the mirror at home, pretending that he was being adored. He got there by studying music and loving it and letting it move him.
Let me tell you how sexy it’s looked for me the last two years to hang around in yoga pants reading books and journaling and ugly crying and trying to figure out what’s wrong with me and what’s right with me, and how I’m just like everyone else and how I can make myself whole again, and since I’m just like everyone else, how I can make others whole again too. It’s strange to me that such squirrelly behavior can gain fans, but that’s because I’d bought into myth #1.
2. Myth: Once you have fans, your life changes.
When you get fans, you become this otherworldly being that poops pansies and bleeds glitter. You no longer have to clean up after yourself, dress yourself, or cook. Your life is suddenly happy and perfect and everyone close to you says, “I’m so sorry I haven’t been treating you like the rock star that you are. Will you ever forgive me? Please let me rub your feet.”
Truth: I’m still human.
I still say things to annoy people. Sometimes even on purpose. I give unsolicited advice that makes people roll their eyes. Like 99.9% of the population, I can be short-tempered and have the occasional unkind thought. I put my pants on one leg at a time. My apartment gets messy more often than it should.
Having fans is like losing weight. You think that when it happens, your life will be akin to prancing through a meadow full of daisies on a 73-degree day. But what actually happens is that life is the same, slightly nicer, but there’s no big feeling of “arrival.” (Although, I must admit, feeling healthy and strong is pretty darn awesome!) However, I’m still the same person, complete with weaknesses and flaws.
3. Myth: You are special and better than your fans.
People who have fans are special and different and cool and deserve attention and free stuff and reservations at exclusive restaurants.
Truth: We are all the same. We are all special.
I had the pleasure of meeting a fan in person recently. This might not make sense to some people, what I’m about to say. It’s reflective of my spiritual beliefs, something I don’t write publicly about too often. Here is what I would like to say to this person:
The god in me sees the god in you. We’re both incredible, amazing, and the same. We are eternal and divine. You are a magnificent being who deserves to live a magnificent life.
Things happen to all of us that cloud our perception of our magnificence. Our brains are like a filter, collecting garbage memories throughout the years of things people said or did to us that our brain-filter clings to as proof of how lowly we are. I’m here to tell you that you are amazing. That you are singular.
When someone sees me and their eyes sparkle and they think that I’m amazing…that’s how we should all see each other. All the time. We are all amazing. We are all magnificent.
Now excuse me while I go watch this John Newman video for the 100th time.