The Algorithm Is Not Your Boss

Photo by Bruno Guerrero on Unsplash

Quick reality check.

If the algorithm disappeared tomorrow, you’d still be you.

Still talented. Still interesting. Still capable of making things that help people, make them laugh, make them think, make them buy.

But your nervous system might react like someone just turned off the oxygen.

And that’s the problem.

Not because you’re weak. Because you’re human, and you’ve accidentally built a little career house on land you don’t own.

Let’s name the dynamic (because it’s a bit toxic)

A lot of creators are in a relationship with platforms that looks like this:

Platform: “I’m just not sure I’m feeling it today.”

Creator: “That’s okay. I’ll change everything about myself.”

That’s not strategy. That’s emotional bargaining.

You don’t need to “beat” the algorithm.

You need to stop treating it like your manager.

Because the algorithm is not your boss.

It’s not even your colleague.

It’s more like a vending machine that sometimes gives you two chips and sometimes eats your money and stares at you like you’re the problem.

Why this matters (beyond reach and vanity)

When your business depends on a platform, you end up with:

• inconsistent income

• inconsistent confidence

• inconsistent decision-making

• constant pressure to be “on”

• the feeling that you’re one bad month away from irrelevance

And the real cost isn’t the views.

It’s that you start creating based on fear, not intention.

Fear-based creation is loud, frantic, and weirdly exhausting.

It’s also how people end up hating the thing they used to love.

“So what do I do? Start a newsletter?”

Here’s the part where everyone tells you to “build an email list” like it’s a sacred ritual.

And yes, owning an audience is smart.

But you don’t need to start a newsletter out of guilt.

A newsletter written out of guilt becomes a weekly hostage note.

“Hi friends, sorry I haven’t emailed… life has been crazy… anyway here’s a link…”

No.

This isn’t about adding more work.

It’s about reducing risk.

The real goal: reduce dependency, not quit platforms

We’re not doing the dramatic “I’m deleting Instagram and moving to a cabin” thing.

We’re doing something far more powerful and far less sexy:

We’re building one layer of control.

That’s it.

Think of it like financial diversification, but for attention.

You can still post.

You can still play the game.

You just stop needing the game to pay your rent.

The 3-part “Not My Boss” plan

1) Pick a home base you actually like

Home base = where people can find you and take the next step, without an algorithm deciding whether they’re allowed.

This can be:

• a simple website with a clear offer

• a landing page

• a community space

• a list (email or SMS) if that suits your audience

• even a pinned “Start here” doc that links to your stuff

The key is: it’s yours.

Not rented.

Not “link in bio and pray.”

2) Build one repeatable path from content to action

Most creators have this pipeline:

Post → hope → post again → hope harder → spiral

You want:

Content → next step → relationship → offer

That “next step” should be stupidly simple:

• “Reply ‘PLAN’ and I’ll send you the guide”

• “Grab the template here”

• “Book a call”

• “Join the waitlist”

• “Start here”

It doesn’t need to be fancy. It needs to be consistent.

Consistency is what teaches people how to engage with you.

3) Turn your best content into assets (not memories)

If your best work disappears down the feed after 48 hours, you’re doing emotional charity.

Start recycling your best ideas into forms that last:

• turn a post into a blog

• turn a blog into a downloadable guide

• turn a guide into a product

• turn a product into a system

• turn a system into a business that doesn’t panic every Monday

This is how you escape the “always starting over” feeling.

Not by creating more.

By creating with re-use in mind.

The myth: “If I diversify, my growth will slow”

Maybe.

But your stress will also slow.

And here’s what no one says out loud:

Sometimes rapid growth on a rented platform is just rapidly increasing your dependency.

It feels like success, but it’s fragile.

The goal isn’t to grow fast.

The goal is to grow with control.

What to do when reach drops (without losing your mind)

When reach drops, most people do one of two things:

1. blame themselves

2. reinvent their entire identity overnight

Instead, do this:

• keep posting at your normal rhythm

• double down on direct relationships (DMs, comments, community)

• repurpose one strong piece of content into an owned asset

• measure what matters: conversations, leads, sales, signups

Reach is a weather report.

It’s not a verdict.

If you do nothing else this week, do this

Create a single “Start Here” link.

One page.

One place.

With:

• who you help (one sentence)

• what you offer (one sentence)

• one next step (one button)

Then put that link everywhere:

Bio. Pinned post. Profile. Email signature. Wherever humans can click.

That’s the first brick in your stage.

Not because the algorithm is evil.

Because you’re building something real.

And real things shouldn’t depend on a vending machine’s mood.