What I Learned From Taylor Swift’s Former Manager

The workshop was on managing and marketing yourself in the music industry. The speaker was former Taylor Swift manager and music industry expert, Rick Barker. If there’s anyone who knows how to build and grow an audience, it’s Rick.

I sat on the front row, listening intently and scribbling down notes. One of the first topics he discussed was how to start a community, which quickly grabbed my attention.

A community. A group of people who share common interests.

I continued to listen to his presentation and take notes, but I was stuck thinking about community. Until he started talking about building relationships. That’s when I zoned in . . . because while community is a buzzword for me, relationships is the word that holds power over me.

I wrote down his suggestions on how to establish a community and grow relationships, and the steps to take to maintain them. However, questions started filling my mind and bombarding my attention, and I quickly became skeptical. I was lost in my own thoughts for the remainder of the workshop, and when it was over, I walked out of the room with two questions nagging at me.

A couple of days later, I still couldn’t reconcile the ideas of managing and marketing myself and building relationships. In fact, the idea of “marketing” myself or my product {my words and music} makes me feel kinda icky. {I wouldn’t make a good salesperson!} Fortunately, I had the opportunity to ask Rick the questions that lingered. Is it really a relationship? And at what point are we being disingenuous?

He explained that all we can do is offer ourselves in service to others, an invitation of sorts, and those who want to be part of our community and enter in genuine relationship will do so. Those who don’t will eventually fall away. {Sounds kinda like the way Jesus lived, huh?}

Communities are easy. We can all be part of the same community and never connect. But relationships? Those are scary. They require vulnerability and intimacy and trust, and many of us are afraid to dive past the surface into the deep waters of relationships.

When I began writing this blog several years ago, I suppose it was a subconscious way of forming a community because I had the desire to share my struggles with the intent that others would know they weren’t alone. When long-time readers began to disappear over the past year, I struggled with wanting to change what I wrote. Maybe I didn’t need to share so openly about the heartache of leaving church or the detangling of my theological beliefs. Maybe I didn’t need to write about the years of shame and traumatic events that bubbled to the surface. Maybe I was too much.

Eventually, I found the courage to let go instead of chasing the people who didn’t want to engage with me. I realized that some were here for a season, and seasons change. What mattered was being true to myself, and that meant giving myself grace to write about being a mess and grace to let go of those who couldn’t handle my messiness.

Maybe the only way to build a community and relationships that endure is to let go. Let go of who we think we ought to be. Let go of other people’s expectations. Let go of those who walk away . . .