The Potluck Test

Picture a concert.

Thousands of people in one room, all facing the same direction. The lights go down, the band walks out, and for two hours everybody is connected to the stage.

They aren't really connected to each other.

When the show ends, they file out. Most of them never say a word to the person who stood beside them all night. And if the band doesn't show up, there's no concert. Everybody goes home.

Now picture a potluck.

Somebody brings the chili. Somebody brings plates because they knew nobody else would remember. Somebody's aunt brings a dessert nobody can identify, and everybody eats it anyway.

The host opened the door. But at some point the host goes into the kitchen to look for more ice, and when they come back, the room is louder than when they left.

That's the difference.

An Audience Faces the Stage

David Spinks has spent years writing and speaking about community. In a talk on what he calls community companies, he put it about as plainly as it can be put:

"A very simple way of understanding it is a difference between building an audience and building a community."

To build an audience, he says, "You create content, you entertain, you create value."

There's nothing wrong with that. Most of us start there. This blog is me on a stage, telling you what happened on a walk or at a BBQ.

But with an audience, every relationship runs between you and each person separately. One to many. You talk, they listen, and when you stop talking, it goes quiet.

A Community Talks When You Leave the Room

A community is the potluck. People are connected to each other, not just to you.

Here's the test I'd use.

If you didn't post anything for a week, would anybody in your space talk to each other?

Would somebody answer a question before you got to it? Would two members carry on a conversation you never joined?

If the honest answer is no, that's not a failure. It means that right now you have an audience, and that's a perfectly honest place to start. A lot of what gets called a community online is really a following with a comment section.

Setting the Table

You can't force a potluck. You can set the table so it's more likely to happen.

Ask questions you don't already know the answer to. If you only ask questions you're about to answer yourself, people learn to wait for you.

When someone asks for help, hold back a little before you jump in. Give another member the chance to answer. Then thank that member, where everyone can see it.

Introduce people to each other. "You two are working on the same thing" is one of the most useful sentences a community builder can say.

Let people bring a dish. Invite members to share what worked for them this week and what didn't. People care more about a room they've put something into.

And notice who shows up for others. Those are the people who will keep the room going while you're off looking for the ice.

Why This Matters More Than It Looks

An audience depends on you producing something every single day. When you get tired, or sick, or the algorithm decides it's finished with you, the room goes dark.

A community carries some of that weight. People stay because of each other, not only because of you.

It also changes what a recommendation means. When you mention a product in a room where members talk to each other, it gets tested in conversation by people who have no reason to flatter you. If it holds up there, it means something. If it doesn't, you'll hear about it, which is worth knowing too.

You still need the content. Somebody has to open the door and put out the first plate.

But the goal was never to be the only one talking.

The goal is a room that's louder when you come back from the kitchen.