It's been almost two full months since I implemented OpenClaw. I use my AI (I named it Tubey) every day for a variety of use cases, including:
- Podcast research
- Book research
- Sending a daily briefing
- Creating workout plans
- Providing essay feedback
- Cataloging questions from calls
- Building internal software, including a Membership CRM, KPI Dashboard, and Fitness Dashboard
I even set the Action Button on my iPhone to open up my chat with Tubey.
It knows a lot about me. From the conversations I have with it and from the transcripts of my podcasts, my essays, and the calls my Fathom recorder joins.
Two weeks ago, I asked it to create a dossier of what it knows about me, including:
- Strengths
- Weaknesses
- Greatest Assets & Unique Qualities
- Patterns of Behavior I May Be Blind To
- Recommendations For Actions
It was pretty blunt! One item in particular that really stood out to me:
Wooooooof. But also, true. I'm writing this newsletter to you two weeks after it initially wrote this dossier. Before sitting down to write, I sent Tubey a message:
Tubey's response?
The central observation—you give better advice than you take—is still the truest thing in there. And honestly, the fact that you're writing an essay about a dossier that calls this out is kind of a perfect example. You're processing it intellectually (writing about it) rather than just... doing the thing. That's not a dig. It's the pattern.
OK, point taken.
So what advice have I given/what do I know to be true that I'm not acting on?
There are three gaps between insight and action that I haven't closed:
1. Narrow my platform focus
As time goes on, every platform becomes more competitive. There are more creators, creators are using better tools, and AI has made content generation instant. Throw in the emphasis of "For You" recommendations, and viewer attention is increasingly directed to a small number of the most engaging posts. The rewards are enormous (posts can go mega-viral), but past post performance doesn't really impact future post performance.
We used to chase virality because virality → followers → better baseline content performance. But that's no longer true. Everything you publish on social media essentially starts on equal footing with anyone else, and your followers will see content from people they don't follow just as readily as they'll see it from you.
But because the rewards are so high, competition continues to grow. The bar gets higher and higher. It's a knife fight for attention, and you're competing against people who approach content like this.
Let me be clear: You can compete on any platform you want. If you become a student of that platform and put in the work to get the reps, you can win big. But it's increasingly impractical to try and win on all platforms (and especially across mediums). Short-form vertical video is still portable across most platforms, and a winning video on TikTok, Reels, or YouTube will likely succeed on the others, too. But there's a big difference between:
- Short-form vertical video
- Long-form solo videos
- Long-form interview videos
- Short-form solo audio episodes
- Long-form solo audio episodes
- Long-form audio interviews
- Long-form writing
- Short-form writing
I would argue that those are eight distinct capabilities, each with its own evolving culture, trends, style, and viewer expectations. Every minute you put into getting better at one is at the cost of another.
...and yet, here I am, trying to do all of them. My own results are middling, at best.
It's possible for you to show up everywhere, but you need a lot of help. In a 2024 keynote at Craft + Commerce, Codie Sanchez said she had spent $2.9 million on content in 2024.
If you don't have the team in place or the resources to hire them, the best move is to focus on fewer formats and dedicate yourself to getting as good at them as you can.
2. Delegate more, review less
That brings me to my second personal gap... my ongoing, long-standing, never-ending, obvious delegation problem.
I do think I get a little better at this all the time (I now lovingly refer to my wife as my Head of Instagram, and my team helps repurpose my essays into visual carousels). But...there's a long way to go—especially if I want to continue trying to show up in non-writing mediums like YouTube.
A secondary challenge in my delegation is my insistence on reviewing work from my team before publishing. I'm too involved. I have a great apprentice named Laura helping me with carousels and short-form video clips, but I sometimes spin her in circles. I've been on the other side of that—and when your work ceases to feel like your work, it's demoralizing.
I only hire people I believe in. My job should be to set the standard and then trust them to meet the standard. Instead of reviewing before publishing, we should review after publishing to learn from data (rather than my personal design opinions).
We'll publish more, she'll feel more ownership, I'll save more time, and we'll end up with more data to make better decisions.
3. Reposition my promise
I love the Creator Science brand. I really think we nailed it. And there's a parallel universe somewhere where I've learned to hire and have a team publishing platform-specific content, e.g.:
- On Instagram, Creator Science covers Instagram
- On YouTube, Creator Science covers YouTube
- On LinkedIn, Creator Science covers LinkedIn
The brand is flexible enough to cover all platforms and all mediums, but our team is too small to manage that. As a result, each week I have to decide which subset of creators I'm personally creating for. It's been great for building a cross-platform audience, but we never get to the real granular level of depth (and certainly not that depth on every platform every week). There's way more demand for education than we can actually deliver.
I've accepted that I'm not nearly as good at teaching the attention game as a lot of the other meta, creators-for-creators out there. That's a function of my own interests—I just can't get myself excited about that game. Other meta creators are better at getting attention. I think I'm better at keeping it.
But I do think I stand out as someone who really understands and prioritizes audience trust, often at my own short-term detriment. After I finish this essay, I'm literally going to respond to several sponsorship inquiries with a kind, "Sorry, but no thank you," because I want to endorse every partner we align with. That means I either already have first-hand experience with them or I'm willing to invest the time to vet them, and that's a tight filter.
The idea of trust doesn't explicitly live inside the Creator Science brand right now—I've always said something along the lines of, "Helping you make a living as a professional creator." There's a good reason to position more explicitly with trust.
All this to say, Tubey is right. If I were looking at myself in the mirror as my own client, these are obvious points I'd advocate for. Ultimately, I need to create more space for my family, writing, and The Lab. And to that end, I'm going to revisit my content calendar and commitments to see what I can better resource or set aside.
For example, I was traveling this week and didn't produce a new episode of the podcast for Tuesday yet. Old Jay's instinct is to script and record a solo episode this weekend to meet that ongoing deadline, but that directly conflicts with spending more time with my family or working on my book.
New Jay is going to look at this and say the cost isn't worth the benefit. I'll either a.) Republish a popular past episode or b.) Record a shorter, voice-note style episode on Monday.
But I'm doubling down on my commitment to writing. Which means YOU can continue to expect to hear from me (at least) every Sunday. Thanks for reading.
