What Showing Up on Instagram (Almost) Every Week Taught Me

I am not comfortable talking into a camera. I don't love being a “talking head.” I'd much rather ask the questions than answer them or feel like I am talking into a void. 

And yet — five months into a quiet commitment to show up on Instagram (almost) every week, here we are.

This is not about going viral. It's not a playbook. It's an honest accounting of what I've learned from doing something uncomfortable, consistently, for the first time in a long time.

Why I started

My “monthly” newsletters are not exactly clockwork. They actually feel like giving birth. Consistency has always been the gap between my intentions and my output. I know, I know, I need to better practice what I preach. 

So at the start of this year, I made a simple decision: pick one place, show up. Instagram Reels, Fridays. The day became the ritual — Friday not-so-live, Friday check-in, Friday Confessions — though several weeks it has slipped to Saturday or Sunday when life had other ideas. The point was the rhythm, not the rigor.

Not because I had a content strategy. Because I needed a practice.

What I got wrong first

I tried going Live early on. The idea was well intended — chatting with other people, answering questions. The reality was awkward — waiting for people to show up, not knowing when to start, then discovering how hard it is to edit captions after the fact. Live was not the format for this. 

Speaking of captions — they are non-negotiable for talking-head videos. If you're going to speak to a camera, people need to follow along with the sound off. I edit mine in Edits after I record the video, which has made that part genuinely manageable. And over time, whether I’m speaking better or Edits has figured out my cadence, the captions have required less editing. 

Another observation: the cover image doesn't have to be a still from the video. I often take a separate photo at the same time I record, then it might get an edit in Canva (or not). It’s a tiny shift that makes a real difference in how polished the post looks (or not).

What actually landed

Week five or six, I was sick in Mexico. Flat, exhausted, genuinely questioning why I was making the video at all. I posted it anyway. It became one of my most engaged posts — not because it was good, but because it was real. People sent get-well wishes. They showed up for me because I showed up for them, even when it was terrible.

The other standouts followed the same logic. The SXSW check-in with my sister Holland — more movement, more behind-the-scenes — took off. So did the Friday Confessions where I admitted I'd been cheating on ChatGPT with Claude. And here's the thing: that one didn't land because it was about AI. It landed because it was honest. I confessed that I hate staring at a blank page, that I lean on AI precisely so I can keep my own voice intact. People didn't respond to the tool. They responded to the truth.

The pattern is not subtle: the posts that land are the ones where I'm with someone, in something, or telling the truth about something I actually care about. Which makes complete sense, because I don't like talking at a camera. I like talking to and connecting with people.

The "ums" and the eye rolls when I'm searching for a word? Still very much present. Still very much a work in progress.

The part I didn't expect

The response offline has been as meaningful as the likes and comments.

People stopping me to say, "Nancy, I love seeing your posts." A few have started calling it their "Nancy check-in." One called it her "Nancy fix." (I'll take it.) When I ask what resonates, the answers are simple: they like seeing what I'm working on, they like to reference what I’m sharing and how it might affect or impact their work, or they just want to know where I am.

And here's where I have to get honest with myself. Presence is lovely. But is presence enough? I don't want the check-in to be only a check-in. I want it to be worth someone's thirty to sixty seconds — useful, not just a wave. That tension, between showing up and actually saying something, is the part I'm still working out.

The cost nobody mentions

Showing up on Instagram means being on Instagram. I went from keeping my consumption deliberately minimal at the end of last year to catching myself scrolling far longer than I meant to these past few months. The culprit is sneaky: I post, then I come back to check how it's doing, and forty minutes later I'm still there.

I’m going to try to treat the weekly Reels more like my newsletter. I don't refresh the newsletter every ten minutes to see who opened it. The Reel deserves the same discipline: make it, post it, walk away. Send it and forget it. (Also, when I am scrolling, switching to the "Following" feed helps too — at least then I'm seeing people and brands I actually chose. I still get ads. I still feel the ick when I've been on too long.)

Also, with full awareness of how vain this sounds: watching yourself talk on camera every week will make you notice things. I have developed opinions about my teeth (and other parts of my body from the neck up) that I did not previously have. Invisalign research is officially underway. 😬

So do I keep going?

Yes. Five months in and the answer is still yes.

Not because I've figured it out. Because I'm getting more comfortable with not having figured it out. The turnaround is faster, the captions are easier, and I'm starting to see what my version of this looks like — less polished, more honest, almost always better when there's a strong human connection, either in the video or as a shout-out. 

Whether showing up is the whole point, or just the easy part — that's the thing I'm still circling. For now, I'm okay sitting in the question.

What about you — is there a platform you keep meaning to show up on? What would being present look like? What's actually in the way? Let’s chat!