How do you personally evaluate whether your podcast is working for you?

There’s no correct answer to this question. The only important thing is that each of us takes the time to find our own answer. This is not a “set it and forget it” situation: You have to reconsider this question periodically too.

Yesterday I was talking with a podcaster who is in the middle of a significant pivot of their show. Why the pivot? It wasn’t working for them any more.

I’ve pivoted shows, started new shows, intentionally stopped publishing episodes of a show, and completely deleted shows from existence. Each time because there was a clear sign (often a sign I’d been in denial about) that the show was no longer working for me.

That’s what you have to figure out for yourself.

I did 1,400 episodes of Little Box of Quotes as a daily show. I had specific things I was practicing. When creating new episodes became a thing I started avoiding, I stopped. A year later, I’m thinking of resuming publishing the show, but my reasons for publishing it are now completely different.

I’ve tried two different show-formats for the Open + Curious podcast. Now in 2025, I’m scheduling guests for its 3rd season which will be in my signature style of conversation.

The Movers Mindset podcast hasn’t been the same format since day one. There’s been a bunch of experiments within that show. As I have new ideas, and new questions about what can a recorded conversation be, that’s where I’ve done most of my experimentation.

Even Podtalk has changed over time. What began as “the companion podcast to the Podcaster Community” (conversations with the community’s members) expanded to conversations with any independent podcast creator.

As I said: There’s no one, correct answer for everyone. There isn’t even one, correct answer for each of us!

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What’s a mistake you made early on that you had to unlearn?

No one gets everything right in their first few episodes (or even after 100 episodes). Looking back, what’s something you used to do—or believe—that you’ve completely changed your mind about?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

By far my biggest mistake was chasing perfection.

It’s subtle when simply improving as one does more work, tips over into chasing perfection. Improvement is fine, but it’s not the reason why I’m making podcasts. I first had to figure out my reasons for podcasting, then it became easier to see when an improvement was fine, and when an improvement was an unnecessary detour. (Perfection, after all, can be hiding from the actual work.)

For me, an example of chasing perfection went like this…

In my initial recorded conversations, I first paid-per-minute for a human-done transcription. (It was 2017.) Then I printed the entire transcript. Then I reviewed the audio with the transcript as a guide, enabling me to keep track of the larger themes and story-arc in each conversation. Then I was annotating the transcript for various editing possibilities. Finally, I passed the editing off to another person (a paid, team member) that I was working with to create the show. Today, of course, this can all be done much quicker and with little (if any) actual cost.

Eventually, I realized that for what I’m trying to accomplish there’s no need to edit. So all that getting better editing, or doing it for less cost, turns out to be the wrong thing for me to be doing. Chasing improvement was hiding. Chasing perfection was an error.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

What’s a piece of common podcasting advice you disagree with?

There’s a lot of conventional wisdom in podcasting—things like “You have to publish weekly” or “Shorter episodes are better.” But not all common advice applies to everyone. What’s something you’ve found doesn’t actually work or that people should rethink?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

Don’t go alone.

I don’t think people do well trying to do their podcast entirely by themselves. I think this is really a point about creating art in general.

Yes, one definitely should do the work for the work’s sake. (What is referred to as autotelic.) Yes, don’t depend on external motivation and reward. But it is not easy to do that entirely alone.

The easy way is to find others who share your passion. You don’t need to directly collaborate on your work. But you absolutely will be happier if you have others who speak your jargon, do the thing, and face the same struggles.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

What is one counterintuitive truth about podcasting that most people don’t realize?

Many podcasters start out assuming success looks like big audience numbers, sponsorships, or industry recognition. But in your experience, what’s something that actually matters way more than people think—or something people chase that turns out to be irrelevant?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

All advice is useless until you first figure out why you are creating your podcast. There, that’s counterintuitive and contentious.

I’m not saying you must have a deeply considered, philosophical reason. But you must start with some reason for your podcasting. It can be any reason at all that you can imagine.

Because any useful advice must take your reason for podcasting into consideration. What’s the best mic? Should I publish on a schedule? Does the quality of the audio matter? What about show-length? …format? …social media? Even, what’s something that actually matters way more than people think? It depends.

All advice is going to be wrong if it doesn’t take your reasons into consideration. This applies to everything in life. Get up early? Stay up late? Avoid gluten? Read more? It depends.

Certainly you can change and refine your reasons. When you do that you can get real power from all that advice. If you get advice towards one course of action, but you don’t want to do that, then you need to dig into your reason, or you need to dig into that advice. One of them needs to be updated.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

Consider: If you were starting a brand-new podcast today, what would you do differently?

With everything you’ve learned from running multiple shows, what are the biggest mistakes or inefficiencies you’d avoid if you were launching a new podcast from scratch? Would you approach production, audience growth, or personal mindset differently?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

Picture me smiling and chuckling nervously because, for more than a year, I have been trying to restart one of my shows. Certainly a big part of my 2024 was reallocated for health reasons, but my attempted restart of the Open + Curious podcast has had many months available to me before, and since. Still, there’s no new show. It’s all about the mindset, for me. I have a too-grand vision of what it should be. I can’t stop seeing all the things it could possibly become, and fixating on getting everything right (my vision of what it should be) from launch day.

However, the best wisdom that I have here for others, is just a repackaging of Heraclitus’s “no one steps in the same river twice” (the flowing water implies the river is different, and the person is also different.)

If someone is actually starting their first show: Once you understand how to do a podcast (it takes perhaps 10 minutes to learn that?) then do not spend more time asking people about starting. That’s hiding from the work. Rather, start. The experience of the doing is what you are actually seeking.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

Consider: What role does friction play in the creative process for podcasters?

Podcasting is full of friction—technical issues, editing headaches, guests rescheduling, creative blocks. Some podcasters try to eliminate every obstacle, but sometimes, friction is where the best ideas come from. Where do you think friction helps creativity versus just getting in the way?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

This question leads me to the idea of “simple.” I often ask myself: What is the simplest thing that could possibly work? Because that’s the idea I should start with. It requires no effort for me to imagine adding complications. Keep it simple stupid (KISS) is an adage because it is a valuable compass.

For me then, friction is a sign that there might be a simpler way to do something. It might be quite complicated and involve a lot of work to switch over to a simpler way of doing things, but it’s only when I’m directly considering the friction that I can understand the payoff of such effort.

On the other hand, there may not be a simpler way to do something. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In either case, it’s the friction which prompts me to apply mental effort to search for that simpler way. Creating meaningful work (podcasting in this case, but anything really) requires some amount of effort. Friction is a clear sign that—at the least—I’m actually doing the work.

I suppose that does mean that friction helps creativity. Is friction necessary for creativity? No. But it’s definitely not the enemy of creativity.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

Consider: How has your ‘Why’ evolved since you began podcasting?

In your post Having a Clear Why, you highlight the importance of having a reason for podcasting that goes beyond just releasing episodes. Looking back, has your core motivation for podcasting changed over time? Were there moments when your ‘why’ felt unclear, and how did you navigate that?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

It turns out that my core motivation has never wavered. What has changed drastically over the years is why I thought I was doing it.

My “Why” is that I’m curious. I have always been entirely motivated by simple, selfish reasons: I love conversations— in fact I love listening to people. The people and conversations energize me. Podcasting scratches my curiosity itch. (The cure for boredom is curiosity. There’s no cure for curiosity.)

It turns out that when I’m intentional about how I podcast—who I choose to give a platform to, what I steer us towards discussing, how I craft episode notes, titles, and all the countless details—I end up creating pieces of work that other people really enjoy and learn from. Godin’s phrasing, “make the world better by making better things,” nails it.

What’s changed over the years is that I was confused about my “Why”—not that my “Why” actually changed. At various times in the past I used to think, “people like what I’m creating, maybe I can generate some revenue.” But I’m not in podcasting to generate revenue, and if I wanted to do that I’d need to shift from “what do I want” to being clear about what problem I’m trying to solve for others.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

Consider: Has a podcasting hiatus changed your perspective on the grind of production?

You didn’t plan for a hiatus—it just kind of happened. Stepping away from the routine of podcasting, has it changed the way you see the relentless pace of content creation? Do you feel more or less pressure to keep up with a schedule now? Has this break made you rethink what “consistency” really means for a podcaster?

~ Asked by the LLM(1)

Yes, it definitely changed how I look at everything about podcasting. I’ll unpack the reason for the hiatus, so that my take-aways make more sense.

First, in April 2024 we had an unexpected death in the family. Given the scale of things, it was a no-brainer to cancel the several guests who were scheduled for recording sessions. Unfortunately, I over-worked myself for a stretch of days, and that led to my being exhausted and getting sick. In those first days, as I sent “I’m really sorry, but…” messages to the guests, I was thinking about this in a very particular way: This is the right thing to do for these people who kindly set aside time for me.

The first take away from this experience is to be honest and realistic with myself. An unexpected death changed my daily priorities. I’m sick and my voice is crap. I need many weeks to recover, assess, and figure out what I can do in the coming months. In the past, I might have tried to work harder to try to keep juggling everything.

Then in May, a routine blood test returned results which one would prefer to never see. Through June and July, and then into August and September, I worked through a cancer diagnosis. This further “adjusted” my priorities and schedule for the rest of 2024.

The second take away is just having a conversation with anyone is a crazy-awesome gift. And (as I’m getting back to podcasting now, in Feb 2025) to be able to record and share them is just icing on the cake.

As for the grind, consistency, a schedule? No, not any of that. I hope I can hold on to this mindset:

I’m insanely lucky to get to do just one more episode, and it looks like I can do them for years to come. Grinding, being consistent, and sticking to a schedule are all forms of striving for something. (I am a professional even without any of those.) So, nope. No, thank you. I’m not signing up for that mindset again.

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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.

Archeology and music

Simply sound-related things today: An image of a babbling brook and archeology…

It is possible that some 8,000 years ago, in this acoustically resonant haven, people not only hid from passing coastal thunderstorms, they may have used this place to commune with their dead—using music. That’s a possibility hinted at in the work of archaeologist Joshua Kumbani, of the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, and his colleagues.

~ Sarah Wild, from What Did the Stone Age Sound Like?

Seems obvious that archeology would be interested in sound— but I’d never thought of that aspect of it before.

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Having a clear why

It’s become cliché to talk about finding our ‘why’. That’s a shame because it’s absolutely, still, critically important, to us as podcasters. I was recently reminded of this point…

Ask yourself, why am I podcasting as a host, or as a guest? You must have a clear why, and it should be bigger than just “me.”

~ Alex Sanfilippo

Tell me your ‘why’.

And if you just hesitated— If you don’t immediately have an answer— Then you do not actually know your ‘why’.

You don’t have to post it! But you better know exactly and clearly what it is. Posting it just puts it out there, ensuring it remains real for you.

Whether or not you post it, you absolutely must have a ready-to-mind answer for your ‘why’.

For the longest running of my shows, Movers Mindset, my why is…

Each conversation feeds my insatiable curiosity, but I share them to turn on a light for someone else, to inspire them, or to give them their next question.

When I started that show, I did not have a clear ‘why’. It wasn’t until I took the Akimbo podcasting course in 2019, that I took the time to reimagine a lot of the two-year-old Movers Mindset podcast, and prompting from the course material and the coaches turned me onto asking myself, “uh, yeah, why?!”

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Getting back to podcasting

Working with the garage door up, means I’m really just thinking out loud. I’m talking mostly to myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve done an episode for one of my own shows. Obviously the break was begun because of health issues in 2024. In the last couple of months though, I again do have the time. And I miss it. So I shall resume.

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Show the web some love

Web sites!

Our beloved podcasting is built upon technology from the free (as in freedom and money) World Wide Web. We’ve come to take it for granted, so we just call it the web without even a capital-W.

Every podcast creator talks about getting more listeners. There are billions of people using the web. Searching on the web has to lead to a web site.

My challenge to you is:

Type “Your Show Title podcast” into a few search engines…

(You could also search for the title, or some critical words, or a guest name, from a recent episode.)

What did you get?

How far down those results is it to something that you actually control?

Is there even anything you control, anywhere in the results?

The only thing you can actually control on the web, is your own domain name.

…go to https://hover.com/ and find a domain name that you like.

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Between a rock and a hard place

I really enjoyed Curtis Cates’s episode 14, Transformation can be fun…!.

Lately, I’ve been back to my regular walking, and I’ve started getting serious listening time in. I was delighted to get a chance to hear from Curtis.

(Yes, yes, I’m way waay behind on the Hansel & Gretel Code.)

Like you, my to-listen-to podcast cup runeth over! I’m regularly adding newly-released episodes. But I also have a way of systematically looking through shows’ entire back-catalog. So I’m also, regularly adding very-old episodes.

Yikes!

…and I heard one of Curtis’s sound-bites as I typed that.

Anyway, if you’re already familiar with Curtis’s work, drop back into ep14 of H&G, just for fun. If you’re going “Curtis who?” … start below. And, you’re welcome!

art is personal
and what qualifies or disqualifies something as art is all up to you

~ Curtis Cates, from Kristo.art

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PS: I don’t subscribe to shows; I add episodes one-by-one when I see interesting episodes via my daily RSS-feed reading.

How things feel

I have written about this before and it is something I wish to emphasize repeatedly: efficiency and clarity are necessary elements, but are not the goal. There needs to be space for how things feel. I wrote this as it relates to cooking and cars and onscreen buttons, and it is still something worth pursuing each and every time we create anything.

~ Nick Heer, from Delicious Wabi-Sabi

Yes, “efficiency and clarity are necessary elements, but are not the goal. There needs to be space for how things feel.” Hear! Hear!

There are at least three reasons to read Heer’s points. Retro-digital photography is really a thing; the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi (appreciating beauty that is imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete); A bit of hist wondering about software.

It’s the wabi-sabi that got me thinking about podcasting. I’m well-known for cutting the corner when it comes to editing the conversations I record. I’ve always looked at that as a necessity: If I tried to raise the level of quality by editing, I’d not be able to put the episodes out (or at least not as many.)

After reading Heer’s thoughts, now I’m wondering if I’m also—perhaps even more so?—drawn to the wabi-sabi of the conversations with all their blemishes, false-starts, uhm-and-ahs in place.

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Really, this book is worth reading

I mentioned this book previously (in, Driveway Moments). As I read more, it became clear this book is stuffed full of useful information for podcasters. At some point, I’ll get around to organizing some sort of “resources” something-or-other over on the Podcaster Community, and Sound Reporting will definitely go in the “must read” books list for podcasters.

Almost nothing in the book is directly usable… but there’s a ton of stuff—far too much for me to quote—that I found made me think.

To be honest, a lot of it felt like, “yes, I agree” and “yes, I learned that the hard way.” But there was also a lot of “that’s a good idea” and “yikes, now I know I don’t want to do that that way.”

These chapters were particularly fertile ground: Writing for Broadcast, Story Editing, Reading on the Air, Hosting, and Booking. They contains tons of information from the professionals.

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Where’s the scene?

Where is the space where you hang out with other people doing whatever it is you do? I’ve mentioned this idea before, for example, Setting and scene. This is something I come back to often because it is really important to me.

And by “space” I mean a physical space, like the proverbial 19th century café with writers talking and drinking coffee. Third places are clear candidates for our scene.

What about virtual third places? All of us know each other virtually, including through various video calls over the years. But a virtual space has to be very special to be a true “scene.” In fact, I’m not sure just how special, and I’m not sure what exactly the features it needs to have…

That’s what I’m thinking about this morning:

What are the special feature of a virtual space that make it into a scene?

Here’s a few I’ve come up with so far…

  • People :) obviously. We need to know others are there (I see “likes” or a head-count in the video call).
  • Engagement. We (me, you, the person seeking the scene) need to soak up energy from other people. Yes, even introverts need at least a little bit of interaction, particular in the realm of one’s creative endeavor.
  • Questions. Questions don’t have to be about getting an answer! “Revealing your questions in such a way points to the shape of the knowledge you are seeking.”
  • Mistakes. …not sure about this one. “Mistakes” isn’t quite the right word. I’m trying to point at the idea that seeing other people attempt things, and not succeed, shows that the scene is a space safe for experimentation and challenging ourselves.

What else comes to mind?

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Strategy questions

Seth Godin posted a selection of strategy questions a few weeks back, to coincide with his latest book’s release. I’ve found myself referring to these questions a few times, and wanted to post about it here to be sure everyone had a chance to notice them…

Where will I cause tension? What resistance should I anticipate from others (and myself)?

~ Seth Godin, from Strategy Questions

…just to pick one to quote, to give you a taste.

I’ve been using this list as a primer when I want to think about some project. I’ve found it works in my own head, as well as with other people.

As always, his asking really good questions is a gift; A tremendously empowering gift.

Is there a question in that list which scares you?

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What lies ahead?

For a while, the Movers Mindset podcast’s episodes had opening segments recorded in post-production. They were as you’d expect: Here’s who’s on the show, this is who they are, here are a few things we talk about. This (as you surely know) is a bit of work. In later years—particularly once I was working entirely alone—I simply stopped doing this because, taking the time to do it, stopped me from actually getting the episodes out the door.

LISTENERS CAN’T “SEE” (OR HEAR) WHAT’S AHEAD. When you read a story in a newspaper, your peripheral vision gives you an idea of the stories that surround it. […] On the radio, someone needs to tell you explicitly what’s coming up.

~ Jonathan Kern, from Sound Reporting, p6

NPR has a concept called “billboards” which are short segments, up-front (“58 seconds long, at the top of the hour”) telling you what’s coming.

How do you (if you do) decide what you put on your “billboard” at the front of the show? Do you have goals; list three things, list something for every major turn in the conversation, etc.? Do you use any tools to help you?

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The longest stretch of deserted road?

What’s the longest stretch you’ve gone, away from your love of podcast creation?

For obvious reasons (in case you missed it) I’ve not been doing much in the way of podcasting this year. The last episode I published was March 28th, 2024— so about 8 months now. I’m at a point now, where I’ve enough health that it would be possible to resume . . .

I miss having the conversations, and I even miss doing the uncelebrated work (which we all know so well!) to get them published. But I don’t miss the grind… that treadmill feeling of always having some next thing that could be done.

What’s stopped you in the past? How did you get back on the bicycle? Why did you get back on the bicycle?

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Driveway moments

The driveway moment: When a report or interview really works, you can tell and we can tell. We can, because the story hits the top of the most emailed list at NPR.org. You can tell, because the story keeps you pinned in your car, in a parking lot, in your driveway, or at the side of the road—as you wait to hear how the story will end. In letters and emails, listeners named these occurrences “driveway moments,” and say they look forward to them, even when it means being late for work or dinner. So that’s your goal: make some driveway moments.

~ Jay Kernis, from Sound Reporting, pg xi

I’m finally heading into NPR’s book, Sound Reporting, and this big of context included by Kernis in the Foreword got me thinking…

What are you doing so that you even know when you’ve put out a “driveway moment?”

It doesn’t matter at all if we feel it’s a driveway moment. It matters if our listeners think so. Are you paying attention to your listeners? Do you have multiple ways for them to connect back to you?

I do think about “driveway moments” when creating episodes. It’s difficult however, given the way that I create my work; They have to simply happen. If one wants to create them, that requires planning, work and editing.

For me, when I encounter a listener (virtually or in real life) the only question I ask them is…

Has any episode grabbed you? …any particular moment or image?

And then I shut up and listen.

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