1000 True Fans: Why I’m Choosing Meaning Over Metrics

Feeding The Algorithm vs Feeding The Soul

You need millions of followers to succeed online, and in life.

That is what every platform tells you. Go viral. Chase the algorithm. Maximise your reach. Post 50 times a day. Use the trending sounds. Dance if you have to.

The numbers game dominates everything. More followers means more success. More likes means more value. More content means more growth.

But here is what they do not tell you. This approach burns people out. It turns meaningful work into an exhausting treadmill. You spend more time gaming algorithms than helping people. Your best ideas get chopped into 15-second clips. Meaning loses to virality every time.

I do not want to play that game.

I want to live my life, intentionally.

What if you do not need millions of followers? What if you just need 1,000 people who genuinely care about the work you do?

A Different Kind of Maths

In 2008, Kevin Kelly wrote an essay that changed how creators think about success. He called it "1,000 True Fans".

The maths is simple. If 1,000 people each give you $100 per year, you earn $100,000. That is a living. Not wealth. Not fame. Just sustainable income doing work that matters.

But the essay is not really about the maths. It is about what becomes possible when you stop chasing everyone and start serving the people who genuinely benefit from your work.

You can create with depth instead of speed. You can say no to corporate sponsors who want to dilute your message. You can cover hard topics that do not fit neatly into algorithms. You can build something that actually helps people.

This model works. Musicians fund albums through fan support. Writers build sustainable practices without publishers. Teachers create courses that genuinely help instead of just selling credentials.

The research backs this up. Creators with strong communities do not just get financial support. They get feedback, collaboration, and genuine partnerships. True fans proofread your work. They share it with people who need it. They become part of what you build.

I decided this is how I want to build my work in performance psychology and mental health.

But to explain why, I need to tell you what I walked away from.

The Institutions That Break People

This website is how I make my living now.

Not a side project. Not a hobby funded by another job. This is my work. My income. My livelihood.

In the past 20 years, I have worked in academia, industry, and the military. But it became increasingly clear to me that this path is trodden with compromises that I wasn't comfortable with. And I need you to understand why.

I served as a military officer. I saw things most people never talk about. Soldiers carrying PTSD like invisible weight. Hidden wounds. Trauma that does not show up on medical reports.

When soldiers are inside the military and fully functioning, they are treated well. Valued. Supported. But the moment they get injured, it becomes a different story entirely.

I got seriously injured. When I left the military after that harm, do you know what support I received? A one-hour workshop on how to fix my resume.

One hour. A resume fix. For my service. For injuries that changed everything.

That was the moment I understood. These institutions care about function, not people. The second you cannot perform, you become a problem to process rather than a person to support. You become a liability.

Then there's academia. I thought it would be different. I thought it would be about Science. Curiosity. Discovery. A place where ideas matter more than politics.

I was wrong.

I watched bureaucratic processes drown talented researchers. I saw deserving people leave academia. I saw favouritism kick people out if they were not part of the gang. Academics are often chosen based on who they know, not what they know. Most academics – of course not all, but most – have egos the size of certain planets, if not larger.

Academia should be about advancing knowledge. Instead it drowns people in unrealistic pressures, unending self-doubt, and diminishing funding and salaries. Brilliant minds leave because they cannot survive the system, not because they cannot do the work.

And then, consulting. I have seen careers ruined because people did not play by the rules. Good people. Talented people. People who wanted to genuinely help rather than just maximise billable hours.

Another moment that crushed something inside me came later.

I had an idea. A simple idea, really. I would offer free mindfulness workshops to the community. Through my work, I realised that most people struggled with basic psychological issues – anxiety, stress, burnout. If we just gave them basic tools like cognitive behavioural techniques or mindfulness practices, they would feel better. They would build more resilient lives.

I contacted a local community centre. I offered to run weekly workshops for free. In return, the centre offered me a 90% discount on their rental prices, as long as I ran the workshops for free once a week from 6 to 8 pm. This worked for them because no one used the centre after hours. And this worked for me because I could finish work and head straight there.

And so it began. Every Wednesday. 6 to 8 pm.

For several weeks, I taught mindfulness skills and techniques to a variety of people. Different ages. Different backgrounds. Different struggles. But all genuinely trying to build better mental health. Things were going well.

Then one day, I attended a professional event organised by our professional body. I will call them "AAAAA" because naming them serves no purpose beyond vindictiveness, and that is not what this is about.

The director of this body also lived in the same town. He approached me during the event. Pulled me aside. Asked me why I was running these free workshops.

I explained. I told him that through my work I had noticed a disturbing trend. Many people were struggling with basic psychological issues. If we provided them with basic tools – CBT techniques, mindfulness practices, anxiety and stress management strategies – they would feel much better. They would have more resilient lives. They would suffer less. They could be happier. More productive. This would raise our collective quality of life.

I thought he would be happy with my initiative. Proud, even.

Instead, he looked at me with something between irritation and contempt.

"You doing this is making the rest of us look bad", he said. "You could continue to do this, I guess. But why for free? We charge a lot of money for these kinds of workshops, you know. You are directly affecting our revenue, which is not good."

I stood there. Dumbfounded. Speechless.

I was expecting a pat on the back. Not a verbal reprimand.

Later that evening, before leaving the event, he came up to my table. Leaned in. Spoke quietly enough that only I could hear.

"Horses that stay in their lanes get to finish the race", he said. "Those that do not are put down."

Then he walked away.

I sat there for some time after he left. I could not finish my food. I did not talk to anyone else. I just sat there, processing what had just happened.

A threat. Thinly veiled. Delivered calmly. For the crime of helping people for free.

Perhaps one day I will share more about this institutional trauma. But not today.

What matters is this. That moment crystallised everything. These institutions do not exist to help people. They exist to protect themselves. Their revenue. Their status. Their control. Their bottom line.

And I wanted no part of it.

Unfortunately, this wasn't something new.

I have seen what such environments do to people.

I have watched athletes break under pressure systems that treat them like machines. I have seen executives burn out in toxic productivity cultures that mistake exhaustion for dedication. I have worked with military personnel carrying invisible wounds that nobody wants to address. I have been inside academic institutions where brilliant researchers drown in bureaucratic sabotage and administrative nonsense.

Traditional systems are not equipped to help. Corporate wellness programmes offer meditation apps and fruit bowls whilst ignoring the systems that create the stress in the first place. University mental health services are overwhelmed, under-resourced, and mostly controlled by those invested in maintaining the status quo. High-performance sport prioritises results over wellbeing until someone breaks down in public. Every traditional "support system" serves the institution's bottom line – your wellbeing is just collateral damage.

There is a gap between what people need and what existing systems provide.

So I decided to build something different. Something that combines rigorous research with genuine practical help. Something that does not avoid hard topics. Something that integrates perspectives beyond traditional approaches. Something focused on helping people perform sustainably whilst protecting their mental health.

For more than a decade, I have been trying to contribute to this space through research and writing – publishing in reputed scientific journals year after year, mostly as a solo author. Doing this work independently, without institutional backing, has meant navigating how difficult it is to secure funding and still conduct research with real rigor.

But here is the thing about building independently. You cannot do it halfway. You cannot chase meaning whilst also chasing advertisers. You cannot cover uncomfortable truths whilst also keeping corporate sponsors happy. You cannot build genuine trust whilst also optimising for clicks. You cannot write about optimal mental health if you're struggling to pay bills yourself.

You have to choose.

I chose meaning. I chose depth. I chose honesty. I chose helping people over impressing people.

That choice means I need support from the people or "true fans" who benefit from this work.

People Who Built Differently

Let me share some examples of creators who walked away from traditional systems and built something better.

Jack Conte made beautiful music videos. He spent 50 days building elaborate sets. He maxed out credit cards to fund his art. One video took months to create. Millions of people watched it on YouTube.

YouTube paid him $166.

He sat at his kitchen table and cried. Years later, he still gets emotional talking about it. He felt undervalued. Resentful. Exhausted by a system that treated his months of work as worth less than minimum wage.

So he built Patreon. Not just for himself. For all creators stuck in that same trap. He wanted artists to build sustainable businesses funded directly by fans. No gatekeepers. No algorithms deciding your worth. No corporate middlemen taking most of the value.

Jack still makes music. He made over 100 music videos in 2018 whilst running Patreon. Because the model works. Direct support from people who value your work lets you keep creating without compromising.

Amanda Palmer raised $1.2 million on Kickstarter in 2012. It remains a record in the independent music section. Now she has over 15,000 Patreon supporters.

But here is what she says about the money. "I still think as a non-profit. My bank account actually looks like a non-profit. Pretty much all the money I make goes straight back to the community."

She treats supporters as partners, not customers. She shares her creative process. She is transparent about struggles. She asks for help when she needs it. She admits when things are hard.

Her fans do not just fund her work. They become part of it. They proofread manuscripts. They share work with people who need it. They offer feedback that makes everything better.

This is not a transactional relationship. It is a community built around work that matters.

The common thread in these stories is not the money. It is the freedom. Freedom to create with depth. Freedom to say no to things that compromise the work. Freedom to focus on genuinely helping the people who need what you make.

Freedom from institutional threats delivered at professional events.

That freedom is what I want. Not to get rich. Not to go viral. Just to spend my time and life creating value for people who need it, without someone telling me I am making them look bad.

What Your Support Makes Possible

When you support this work directly, here is what becomes possible.

Research & Content Quality

I can maintain research rigour. Every social media post I create starts with peer-reviewed research. I use a systematic process to find credible sources from quality journals. That takes time. Corporate content farms cannot afford that time. But it is the difference between evidence-based guidance and motivational platitudes that sound impressive but help no one.

I can develop the course properly. "Mastering Performance Psychology" is not a quick weekend workshop designed to maximise revenue. It is a comprehensive system built on decades of research and practice. Direct support means I can build it right instead of rushing it to market to hit quarterly targets.

I can write the book. Not a book to impress publishers or institutional gatekeepers. A book that actually helps people understand and apply performance psychology principles across sport, work, and life. A book that integrates diverse perspectives that most psychology texts ignore.

I can provide genuine one-to-one support. Peak membership includes personalised performance audits. That is real time spent understanding your specific situation and providing tailored guidance. Not automated. Not templated. Not optimised for scale. Genuinely useful.

Independence & Truth

I can stay independent. No pressure to recommend products I do not believe in. No affiliate marketing. No sponsored content that has to sound positive regardless of truth. No professional body telling me I am making them look bad. Just honest, useful information.

I can cover uncomfortable topics. Toxic work cultures. The limitations of Western psychology. The harm of toxic positivity. The organisations that break people whilst claiming to serve them. Institutional trauma. Academic corruption. Professional bodies that threaten people for helping communities.

These topics do not play well with advertisers. They do not get approved by institutional review boards. They make people uncomfortable.

But they matter.

Depth & Perspective

I can integrate diverse perspectives. Most psychology research comes from WEIRD populations – Western, Educated, Industrialised, Rich, Democratic. That is a narrow slice of human experience. I can bring in diverse approaches, philosophical perspectives, and cross-cultural insights because I do not need institutional gatekeeping to do so.

I can focus on depth over virality. Long-form articles. Detailed guides. Comprehensive resources. The kind of content that genuinely helps but does not perform well in algorithm-driven feeds optimised for engagement metrics rather than actual utility.

This is how I want to spend my time. This is how I want to spend my life.

Creating value for people instead of contributing to corporate bureaucracy and institutional toxicity.

But I cannot do it without support from people who find value in this work.

The Honest Truth

I am building towards 1,000 true fans. People who genuinely benefit from this work and want to help sustain it.

I do not need millions of followers. I do not need to go viral. I just need enough people who find real value in what I create to support this being my life's work.

Let me be completely honest with you.

I have been told that I will not succeed.

Perhaps I will not.

Perhaps building independently, without institutional backing, without playing by the rules, without staying in my lane, is foolish. Perhaps the people who threatened me were right about how the world works.

But I would rather fail trying to help people than succeed by protecting revenue streams that keep help expensive and inaccessible.

Here is how you can support this work.

Subscribe to Psychquania, my bi-monthly newsletter. It is free. You get evidence-based strategies on performance, resilience, and wellbeing delivered every two weeks. No algorithms. Just useful information sent directly to your inbox.

If you want deeper access, consider a paid membership:

• Professional membership: Access to all premium articles with implementation guides, worksheets, advanced techniques, and detailed case studies. This is for people who want to go beyond concepts into genuine application.
• Peak membership: Everything in Professional, plus one-to-one performance audits. This is personalised support based on your specific situation. Real time. Real guidance. Genuinely useful.

If you want to support the mission without ongoing commitment:

Make a donation. Any amount helps. It goes directly into keeping this work ad-free, independent, focused, and genuinely useful.

If you are unable to financially support this work:

That is okay. I genuinely mean that.

Become a free member. Share this website with a friend or family member who might benefit. That helps more than you know.

I will try my best to create valuable and helpful content for as long as I can.

What I promise in return:

I will maintain research rigour. No shortcuts. No click-bait fluff. No pseudoscience.

I will stay independent. No partnership pressure. No corporate sponsors diluting the message. No affiliate bodies telling me who I can help and how much I should charge.

I will be transparent. If something changes, I will tell you. If I make a mistake, I will own it. If I do not know something, I will say so rather than pretending expertise I do not have.

I will focus on genuinely helping. Not impressing institutional gatekeepers. Not chasing metrics. Just creating work that makes a real difference for people trying to perform sustainably whilst protecting their mental health.

That is the deal. That is the model.

What Remains When Everything Turns to Dust

There is something quietly radical about choosing depth over virality.

About building for 1,000 people who genuinely care rather than millions who casually scroll.

About focusing on helping people instead of gaming algorithms or protecting institutional revenue.

About making your living creating value for others instead of navigating the bureaucracy and toxicity that broke you in the first place.

This is not the story we are told success should look like. There are no venture capital rounds. No massive follower counts. No viral moments that change everything overnight. No corporate submissions or professional endorsements.

Just steady work. Real help. Genuine relationships with people who benefit from what you create.

Ultimately, one day, all this will turn to dust. I will be gone. Forgotten.

The people who threatened me will continue to play the game. The companies will protect their revenue. Institutions will drown the next generation of talented employees in bureaucracy and favouritism.

But perhaps – just perhaps – some of the people I helped will remember that someone chose to build differently. That someone refused to stay in their lane. That someone believed depth mattered more than scale, and helping people mattered more than protecting revenue.

Perhaps that will inspire them to build differently too.

That is enough. That is success. At least to me.

If you have read this far, thank you. Whether you support financially or not, I appreciate you being here. I appreciate you caring about depth. I appreciate you valuing evidence-based work over motivational noise. I appreciate you believing that things could be built differently.

This is just the beginning. There is so much more to build. So many more people to help. So many important topics to cover. So many perspectives to integrate. So much work that matters.

I hope you will be a part of it.

However you choose to support – financially, by sharing, by simply reading and applying what helps you – I am grateful.

Let's build something different together.

Because, when everything else turns to dust, what we chose to build and who we chose to help, is what remains.

Ultimately, meaning does not disappear when the noise fades; it is the only thing that endures.

🙏🏻