content-creation

Revisitings and Realizations When The Applause Ends

smgaillard Leadership , , , , ,

This summer was supposed to be my breakthrough. I was a featured speaker at a major conference. I was on a roll with regular blogging and podcasting. I was amidst writing my second book. I was working on putting together an LLC.

Then, there were some hard realities that began to arise. My sessions at the conference were not well attended. This would be the second time in row that this happened where I was a featured speaker. The blogs and podcasts were not gaining the traction that I thought they merited. The usual friends who had supported my content in the past were not doing so.

I felt alienated and lost amidst a professional learning network that I once held high as a community. Feeling that same alienation in my daily work, I thought that if I invested in my PLN that I would get the return on investment that I craved. I figured if I upped my ante with blogging and podcasting that I would find solace with like-minded colleagues. Ultimately, I was looking for emotional support for my words and ideas in which I shared my humanity.

Impact is hard to judge when you write and podcast. There is no room to riff and vibe with when you do those things. All that I rely on are the likes and comments from my posts. The encouraging texts from friends in my PLN that I would receive after I posted a blog or a podcast. That traction has been missing lately and it hurts. When the reciprocity for the support I share for others, it does sting.

Over time, I realized I had begun measuring connection by engagement. I had unintentionally allowed algorithms, notifications, and analytics to become my scoreboard. Somewhere along the way, I confused being seen with being known and being followed with being supported.

The irony is not lost on me. Much of my recent writing has centered on mattering, belonging, and creating cultures where people feel noticed. Yet, I found myself looking for those very things in places that were never designed to provide them. Social media can introduce us to people, but it cannot sustain us. Likes can be affirming, but they are a poor substitute for authentic relationships. Real connection is built in conversations, shared experiences, and showing up for one another over time.

As I reflected on this difficult season, I found myself returning to something I wrote several weeks ago. At the time, I thought I was writing about the frustration of creating in the silence. Looking back now, I realize I was also writing about the danger of allowing that silence to define us.

Perhaps I needed to read my own words again.

What follows is a repost of that reflection, “When the Crickets Hurt.” Reading it today, I hear it differently than I did when I first pressed publish.

When The Crickets Hurt

So Long to The Principal Liner Notes Podcast

smgaillard Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leadership can feel isolating, a reality that can weigh heavily. I’ve often thought of the solitude woven into the journey, wondering how we might transcend it. Over my 17 years as a principal, I’ve felt the weight of those lonely moments—losing connections, facing personal and professional scrutiny, and confronting doubts. Those moments brought a quiet determination to build something that could foster the connection we so often miss in leadership. Thus, The Principal Liner Notes Podcast was born.

When I began the podcast, I recorded episodes solo on my phone, using the Anchor app, talking into the mic about the universal threads between music and leadership. I imagined each episode as a conversation with a fellow leader who needed to hear, “You’re not alone, and your work matters.” Each riff, every anecdote about The Beatles or Miles Davis, was my way of saying, This is for you. Over time, the podcast evolved into a space to build true connections. I began inviting guests I admired, creating what I called “Connected Conversations”—an open invitation to join in reflection and connection.

One of the great joys of the podcast was finding myself with guests who became more than interviewees; they became friends. These were colleagues and mentors from my Professional Learning Network who so generously offered their time, insights, and encouragement. My heartfelt thanks go to each guest who trusted this modest podcast, sharing their stories and making themselves heard. I’ll always treasure those deeply personal conversations, some stretching an hour or two before we even pressed record. These moments of openness and support felt like meeting up at a record store or a quiet coffee shop—creating a space where ideas sparked and spirits connected. I’m profoundly grateful for every guest and for every listener who tuned in, showing up and sharing your thoughts. You were there in those moments, and that connection has left an indelible mark.

I remember my good friend and five-time guest, Lauren Kaufman, perfectly articulating what I hoped the podcast would be: a place to reflect, grow, and connect with others. Her words about the trajectory of the powerful moments we have shared on the podcast have stayed with me, especially as I consider what comes next. She described what I had felt but struggled to express. For that, I’m grateful to her and to every member of my PLN who has taken the time to share an episode, write a note, or repost my reflections. Together, we created a community—one rooted in the idea that each of us, in sharing a piece of ourselves, makes leadership a little less solitary.

This farewell is also a reflection on gratitude. The Principal Liner Notes Podcast was more than a podcast; it was a creative outlet and a chance to share a love of music and leadership. It allowed me to honor the musicians and leaders who have inspired me and to dive into my own passions with renewed enthusiasm. As I step back from this chapter, I’m left with the richness of these experiences, deeply appreciative of the community that has supported me. Maybe these episodes will form the foundation for a future book or a revival of the series one day. Until then, I’m excited to continue exploring new creative paths. Projects like Hope Amplified with my good friend Meghan Lawson, and Chords of Connection, a solo podcast centered on music and storytelling, are on the horizon, and I look forward to seeing where those journeys lead.

The spirit of this transition reminds me of Simon & Garfunkel’s farewell anthem, “So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright,” a tender goodbye from their final album. It’s a nod to the end of an era, yet it carries the anticipation of what lies ahead in their individual creative paths. This podcast, in that same spirit, is about moving forward—grateful for what’s been and inspired for what’s next.

In reflecting on this transition, I’m reminded of the late Tom Snyder and his poignant final episode of Tomorrow. He signed off with dignity and a sense of gratitude that I hope to echo here. With each episode, I tried to foster meaning and connection, and as I bring The Principal Liner Notes Podcast to a close, I leave with the same sense of gratitude and hope for the connections yet to come. My goal is to continue sharing those connections through future podcast projects—and maybe even a new book. These chapters, filled with purpose, leave me deeply thankful for the music, leaders, and each of you who have been part of this journey.

To my listeners, thank you for being there—whether on a morning walk, a drive, or a quiet afternoon. Your choice to press play, to share these reflections, has meant the world. And as I sign off, I leave with this message: “Don’t forget to share your thoughts, words, ideas, and dreams with the world. The world needs them, and YOU make it a better place.”

Thank you for listening, for tuning in, for connecting, and for making leadership a little less lonely.

Explore Episodes of The Principal Liner Notes Podcast
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