In my younger and more vulnerable years, my sister was given some advice that has stayed with me ever since:
“You will see people who you think are stupider than you go much further than you, because they worked harder.”
It’s a convenient way to excuse career stagnation, but I’d like to offer a modern addendum: you don’t necessarily have to work harder—you just have to be willing to become a shameless self-promoter.
We live in an age of information overload, where the attention economy dominates every aspect of our lives. In this world, clicks equal currency, and visibility is everything. Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube have, in many ways, democratised success—anyone can go viral, and it has never been easier to build an audience.
This is brilliant news for the techno-literate oversharers, those who know exactly how to play the game. But for anyone who can’t—or won’t—crack the algorithm, the result is a kind of digital invisibility.
Are the best creators even online?
Most of the best living writers aren’t chronically online. Take Zadie Smith, for instance—author of White Teeth and widely regarded as one of Britain’s greatest contemporary novelists. She has a flip phone and has publicly advised young writers to ditch their smartphones.
In one sense, she’s absolutely right—constant distraction is the enemy of deep, meaningful work. But the key difference? Smith already has cultural cachet. She doesn’t need social media to promote herself because she’s established.
Similarly, Phoebe Waller-Bridge has described social media as “f*ing terrifying**” and has never used it. But she first broke through with Fleabag in 2013. Would someone as digitally absent as her be able to make it in today’s world?
Followers over talent?
It’s not just writers who are feeling the pressure. In Hollywood, an actor’s social media following is now an active consideration when casting roles.
Actress Maya Hawke recently revealed that film directors are now given a list of actors’ Instagram followings alongside a target number they need to hit.
“What I always wanted to be is an actor where the work is what the draw is, not the personhood,” she said on the Happy Sad Confused podcast last month.
“I don’t care about Instagram. Instagram sucks.”
She has wanted to delete her account for some time, but has been explicitly told that her 8.8 million followers help secure funding for films. Without them, she would be less likely to be cast.
So, what does that mean for young actors without a ready-made audience? Do they even stand a chance?
Writers, too, must play the game
It’s not just Hollywood that’s affected. A friend of mine has a book out later this year. He was told, in no uncertain terms, that he must create an Instagram account and start cultivating a following.
“In the past, I wouldn’t have had to do anything that would lower my dignity—it would all have been done by a major, well-budgeted corporation,” he laments.
But the modern publishing industry doesn’t work that way anymore. Authors are expected to be content creators, influencers, and marketers all in one. It’s no longer enough to write a brilliant book—you need to know how to sell yourself, too.
Selfies over substance?
There was a time when talent and hard work were the primary determinants of success. But now?
Posting selfies and knowing how to cause a stir online have become faster routes to success than actual industriousness or wit.
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The Zadie Smiths of my generation are out there somewhere. The problem is, they’re not getting published.
Why? Because the publishing industry isn’t looking for them—it’s looking for the next TikTok sensation with a built-in audience.
The result is that many of the most insightful, intelligent, and creative voices are being drowned out—not because they’re not talented enough, but because they refuse to play the game.
The unavoidable truth
Like it or not, social media is now a necessity for career success in many creative fields. It is no longer just a tool; it’s a requirement.
For those willing to turn themselves into personal brands, the rewards can be immense. But for those of us who value privacy, dignity, and the belief that our work should speak for itself, the future is far less certain.
Perhaps the real question isn’t whether we should give in and start self-promoting, but whether there’s any real alternative left.
