When I first dipped my toes into the world of WordPress content creation over fifteen years ago, I had no idea where it would lead.
I started podcasting within the WordPress community to help grow my agency—at the time, I knew almost nothing about running a business in this space. But podcasting opened doors. It allowed me to learn, connect with like-minded individuals, and build relationships that would prove invaluable.
Back then, WordPress was small, and the industry felt more like a close-knit, well, community.
Through interviews and discussions, I found myself not only cultivating a community network, but also discovering a passion for sharing stories. With my original show, the Matt Report, I aimed to spotlight people’s experiences and expertise.
I wasn’t driven by metrics like downloads or ad revenue—I wanted to contribute something authentic and meaningful. In many ways, creating content wasn’t just a business tactic; it became a way to give back to a community I cared about.
If I pause to consider whether I could have been more “successful” by traditional standards—more downloads, more traffic, more income—I know the answer is likely yes.
But that route never appealed to me.
I’ve never been one to chase the hottest SEO trend or exploit what’s currently booming just for higher numbers. It goes against good business, but, whatever.
I create content because I’m genuinely interested in it, because it’s a conversation I’m having with myself long before I hit “publish.” Putting it out there is just the next natural step. The result is a body of work that feels personal, patient, and purpose-driven.
Over the years, I’ve had roles at companies—Page.ly, Castos, and now Gravity Forms—that allowed me to stay close to the WordPress ecosystem without needing my content to pay all the bills.
In many ways, these roles have given me a unique vantage point. I’ve been able to remain deeply involved in the WordPress community, understanding its challenges and triumphs, and sharing insights through the WP Minute.
A career path that has afforded me flexibility.
I’ve tried different formats, different angles, and different approaches to storytelling and education. I’ve evolved from one project to another, sometimes subtly, sometimes more drastically. Through it all, I’ve never been trapped by the need to churn out content solely to monetize it. It’s freeing to create because I want to, not because I must.
And yet, I recognize this is a chapter—one that will eventually end.
I think it’s important to acknowledge that no creator’s journey lasts forever, at least not in the same form. I want to leave room to pivot, to say, “This has been meaningful, and now I’m moving on.” Separating my self-worth from my work is crucial. I don’t want to define myself solely as “the WordPress guy” or “the podcast guy.” It’s fine if people remember me that way, but I want my legacy to be broader, connected to the idea that I helped others find their voice and share their stories.
This acknowledgment that the chapter will close one day is liberating– albeit, a bit scary.
I’m building something slow and methodical, with a solid foundation. It’s not about chasing quick wins or viral fame. It’s about contributing to a community I love, learning from the people I interact with, and refining my perspective as I go.
Each new project—like my latest endeavor, MasterWP—isn’t a wild departure, but another step on this journey. Another thread in the fabric that makes up my body of work.
If there’s something I hope other creators take from this, it’s that it’s okay to think long-term and it’s okay to evolve.
We often measure ourselves by growth curves and subscriber counts, but there’s more to it than that. You’re allowed to enjoy the process, to adapt as you learn, and eventually, to step away gracefully if that’s what you choose.
Ultimately, that’s what I’m working toward: the understanding that my worth isn’t tied to metrics, that my chapter can close on my own terms, and that there’s meaning beyond the immediate hustle.
This has always been—and continues to be—a slow, steady evolution. And one day, when I’m ready, I’ll be content to say, “That was my journey, and now I’m on to the next.”
Leave a Reply