When I started my podcast, I thought my microphone was the most important tool I needed. I remember researching it and looking for the best-sounding mic within my budget, thinking that was the podcast magic. Four years and three microphones later, I realize that I can have the best mic out there, but the mic isn’t doing the work - I am. I’m starting to lose that podcast magic and feel the podcast grind, and my mic is the least important tool I can count on right now.

The monotony of podcasting - scheduling, recording, editing, social media, etc. - is a lot. This is especially true when you’re a one-person show and you’re wearing all the hats, and I know I’m not alone in that. The podcast grind is getting more difficult to manage and I find myself fighting the statistics.

According to Podmatch.com, there is only a 10.3% chance of podcasters reaching 50 episodes and approximately 66 podcasters quit every single day!

The podcrash is real, my friends, and it begs the question: why do we always hear folks talk about “leveling up their sound” and “increasing download numbers,” but we don’t hear anyone getting real about the podcast grind that can lead straight to a podcrash?

At first I thought, “Maybe the beginning of the year is an odd time to talk about this,” but, maybe it’s actually perfect. ‘Tis the season for a fresh start, after all. And, if you’re like me, you don’t want to quit - you just need to tap into some new energy, and give your podcast some much-needed “umpf.”

When a listener tunes into a podcast about a sensitive or difficult subject, she probably isn’t looking for a barrage of listed facts that she could have read on a website.

She’s listening to your voice in her headphones because she wants something she can’t get from Google. She wants a human experience, a human connection.

Expressing vulnerability in your podcast can help listeners to relate to you, to believe you really do understand, and to trust the words you speak. But there are ways to be vulnerable when podcasting, and ways not to be.

My experiences of podcasting with vulnerability
I know a bit about this. Three and a half years ago I started talking into my phone about something I couldn’t talk to anybody about. I was ashamed and convinced that nobody would ever understand – indeed, that people would hate me if they knew.

I felt completely alone, so I verbalized my fears and my worries and published them as a podcast. I assumed nobody would listen, but wanted the catharsis and accountability.