I used to think it couldn't happen to me.

Like most people, I posted on social media, shared links on platforms I didn't control, and treated my Twitter account like it was a permanent home for my thoughts. Then I watched platforms go down. Saw creators lose access. Watched entire communities scatter when algorithms changed or a platform suddenly shut down features they relied on.

That's when I realized something uncomfortable: I was one platform change away from losing years of content and the audience I'd built.

The Day Everything Changed (Or Could Have)

Over the last few years, we've seen this play out repeatedly. Twitter went down. Instagram changed. TikTok faced bans. Threads launched as a replacement but offers different reach. What happens to your content and your voice when the platform shifts beneath your feet?

The scariest part? You have almost no control.

A platform can:

• Go offline for hours (remember Twitter's reliability issues?)
• Delete your account for mysterious reasons and give you no recourse
• Change their algorithm overnight and tank your reach
• Shut down entirely (RIP Vine, Quora Spaces, Threads engagement)
• Require verification you can't afford
• Shadow-ban you for reasons they won't explain

You're not a customer. You're the product. And products can be discontinued.

What Actually Happens When Platforms Fail

Let me paint a realistic picture. It's Tuesday afternoon. You wake up to discover the platform where you share your work is down. You panic. Not because you care about the platform—you care about the 50,000 followers you've built there, the engagement you've nurtured, the reputation you've spent years creating.

Then you realize something worse: you don't have a backup. Your content is trapped. Your audience has no idea where to find you. You're starting from zero everywhere else, and nobody's following you yet to notice the migration.

Even if the platform comes back online, the damage is done. You've lost days of momentum. Followers moved on. The algorithm resets.

But here's the thing: this is preventable.

The Hidden Risk of Single-Platform Dependency

Every creator I talk to says the same thing: "I know I should have my own site, but Twitter/Instagram/LinkedIn is where my audience is."

That's true. But it's also the trap.

When you build exclusively on platforms you don't own, you're not building a business or a brand. You're leasing digital real estate. And lease agreements can be terminated.

The platforms know this. That's why they don't make it easy to export your data or leave. Portability is a threat to their business model. So they:

• Make it hard to download your content
• Don't provide good tools to move your audience
• Change APIs constantly to lock out third-party tools
• Punish you if you link to competing platforms

You can either be the landlord or the tenant. Most creators are choosing to be tenants without realizing it.

Building a Resilient Presence (Starting Now)

Here's what I learned: your own site isn't a replacement for social media. It's the foundation that lets you survive when platforms fail.

Think of it this way: social media should be where you amplify your message. Your own site is where your message lives.

Here's what this actually looks like:

Your site is your hub. Write, publish, and archive everything there. It's searchable, permanent, and owned by you. Google indexes it. It builds up over time instead of disappearing in the feed.

Platforms are distribution. Share links to your site across Twitter, LinkedIn, Threads, wherever your audience hangs out. But the real content lives at home.

Portability matters. Make sure you can export everything. Your writing shouldn't be locked into a platform's proprietary format. It should be portable to other platforms or your own site.

Own your relationships. Collect emails (if you want to) instead of relying on platform followers. An email list is one of the few relationships you actually own.

This isn't complicated, but it requires a shift in thinking. You're not building a Twitter presence or a LinkedIn presence. You're building your presence, and using these platforms to point people to it.

What I'm Doing About It

I built Jottings because I kept seeing creators face this exact problem. Not because I wanted to replace social media—I didn't. But because I wanted to give people a place where they could own their voice.

A microblog that's yours. No algorithm deciding if people see your posts. No platform changing the rules. No risk of losing your account.

It's a backup that becomes your primary home for writing. Some people use it to cross-post to social media. Others use it as an archive. The smartest ones treat it like their house and treat social media like a billboard they rent on the highway.

The cost? Almost nothing. It's designed to be affordable, private, and focused on the writing instead of vanity metrics.

The Simple Fix

You don't need to leave social media. You don't need to abandon the platforms where your audience hangs out. But you do need a plan for what happens when they let you down.

Here's what I'd do today:

1. Set up a place you control. A blog, a microblog, a newsletter platform, a wiki—something where you own the data and can export it.

2. Move your important content there. Don't wait for a crisis. Export what you can, republish what matters, keep it safe.

3. Use social media to point home. Share your posts, start conversations there, but always link back to your permanent home.

4. Make portability a requirement. If you're building a new presence anywhere, make sure you can get your data out.

This isn't about distrust or cynicism. It's about resilience. The same way you wouldn't keep all your money with one bank, you shouldn't keep all your voice with one platform.

Platforms come and go. Your ideas shouldn't disappear with them.

Your Turn

The best backup plan is the one you start today, before you need it. Not because you're paranoid, but because you're smart.

If you're thinking about building a backup home for your voice, Jottings is built exactly for this. A simple, affordable place to publish your writing. No algorithm. No fees to stay. Just you, your words, and a platform that won't disappear on you.

Give it a try. Your future self—the one who stays online when the rest of the internet blinks out—will thank you.