I've been thinking about something lately. At what point does a YouTuber actually need help?
Is it when they reach 10,000 subscribers?
50,000?
100,000?
A million?
Or is it nothing to do with subscriber numbers at all?
The more I think about it, the more I believe it probably isn't about how many people have subscribed to your channel.
It's about how much time, effort and pressure goes into keeping the channel going.
And I can certainly understand how that could creep up on you.
When you first start making videos, it's usually quite simple.
You have an idea.
You get the camera out.
You go somewhere, or do something you're interested in, and you film it.
Then you sit down and edit it, upload it, and that's it.
At least, that's how it feels when you're starting out.
But gradually, things change.
People start watching.
People start subscribing.
People start commenting.
And suddenly, there are people waiting for your next video.
That's when I think YouTube can start becoming a very different animal.
When people start expecting the next video
I actually think it's lovely when someone tells you they're looking forward to your next video.
There's something quite rewarding about knowing that somebody you've never met has enjoyed something you've created enough to want to see more of it.
That's one of the things I like about YouTube.
You're creating something from your own interests and experiences, and somehow it reaches people you've never met.
But I can also see how that could create pressure.
If you've always uploaded once a week, people start expecting a video every week.
If you normally upload twice a week, then two videos become the expectation.
And if you don't upload?
Someone might ask:
"Where's the next video?"
They probably don't mean anything by it.
But when you've already spent days filming and editing, you might find yourself thinking:
"I know. I'm trying!"
And that's when something enjoyable can start to feel like an obligation.
I've realised just how much work goes into a video
I think one of the things people sometimes don't realise is that the finished video is only a small part of the process.
Take one of my own outings.
I might decide to go somewhere and make a video.
That sounds simple enough.
But there can be planning beforehand.
Where am I going?
What am I going to film?
What cameras am I taking?
Do I need the DJI Pocket 3?
Do I take the drone?
What about batteries?
Then there's the journey itself.
The filming.
Getting the shots.
Trying to remember what I wanted to say.
Sometimes filming something two or three times because I didn't quite say it the way I wanted.
And then I come home.
And that's when another job begins.
I have to go through all that footage.
Find the good bits.
Put everything in the right order.
Edit it.
Add music where appropriate.
Sort out the audio.
Create a thumbnail.
Write the title and description.
Upload it.
And then, of course, people start commenting.
And I want to reply.
Because for me, that's part of the enjoyment.
I'm not just throwing a video onto the internet and walking away.
There are real people watching it.
And if someone has taken the time to leave me a comment, I like being able to respond.
But I can also see how, as a channel grows, that could become a job in itself.
Imagine having hundreds or thousands of comments
At the moment, replying to comments is something I enjoy.
But I've sometimes wondered what it would be like if I suddenly had hundreds of comments on every video.
Then thousands.
How would you keep up?
Would you sit there for hours every day answering them?
And if you didn't, would you feel guilty?
That's the difficult part.
Because once you've built that relationship with your audience, I think it would be very hard to suddenly say:
"Sorry, I don't have time to reply anymore."
But realistically, there must come a point where you simply can't.
There are only so many hours in a day.
And that's where I think a creator has to make a decision.
Do you carry on trying to do absolutely everything yourself?
Or do you accept that perhaps you need a little help?
Then there's the pressure to earn money
This is probably the part I find most interesting.
For someone like me, making videos is primarily about enjoying what I'm doing and sharing it with other people.
If the channel earns a bit of money along the way, that's a bonus.
But imagine if YouTube became your main income.
That's when everything changes.
Because now you aren't simply making videos because you fancy making one.
You've got bills to pay.
Perhaps you've got sponsorships to fulfil.
Perhaps companies are expecting videos.
Perhaps you've got employees.
Perhaps your mortgage is partly being paid from the income your channel generates.
Suddenly, taking a few weeks off isn't quite so easy.
You can't simply say:
"I'm not in the mood for making a video this week."
There are financial consequences.
And I can imagine that creates an enormous amount of pressure.
So when does a creator actually need help?
I don't think there's a magic subscriber number.
You could have 5,000 subscribers and be struggling to keep up.
You could have 500,000 and have a team doing most of the work behind the scenes.
I think the real question is:
Is the channel becoming too much for one person to manage?
Maybe you're spending more time editing than filming.
Maybe you're spending hours answering comments.
Maybe emails are taking over your day.
Maybe you're constantly worrying about the next video.
Maybe you're checking your analytics every few hours to see how the latest upload is performing.
Or perhaps you're simply not enjoying it anymore.
For me, that last one would be the biggest warning sign.
Because surely the whole point of creating content is that you actually enjoy creating it.
But who helps a YouTuber?
I've often wondered about this too.
When we watch some of the really big YouTube channels, we might see one person on screen.
But behind that person could be an entire team.
They might have an editor.
Someone creating thumbnails.
Someone managing social media.
Someone answering emails.
Someone dealing with sponsorships.
Someone handling the accounts.
And perhaps eventually somebody managing the whole operation.
The person we see on screen may still be doing what they love — creating the content — while other people take care of the things that have grown around it.
And actually, that makes perfect sense.
If you're brilliant at making videos but terrible at administration, why spend half your day doing administration?
If editing takes you ten hours but someone else can do it in three, perhaps paying that person is actually buying yourself back seven hours.
And time is something you can never get back.
You don't necessarily have to employ anybody
I think there's probably a misconception that getting help means suddenly having a full-time team.
It doesn't.
You could employ a freelance editor.
You could pay somebody to create your thumbnails.
You could have someone help with emails for a few hours a week.
You might not even need the help permanently.
Perhaps you simply need someone during particularly busy periods.
And then there are management agencies.
They can take care of some of the business side — dealing with brands, negotiating sponsorships and commercial opportunities, and generally helping a creator manage the business they've built.
But again, there's a cost.
And that means the creator has to ask:
"Is this worth it?"
If somebody takes a percentage of your income, are they saving you enough time and stress to make that worthwhile?
I suspect, for many successful creators, the answer eventually becomes yes.
I think saying "no" is probably one of the hardest things
There's something else I've thought about.
When people watch your videos, they naturally have ideas about what they want you to make.
"You should go here."
"Why don't you try this?"
"Can you make more videos like that one?"
And that's great.
It's part of having an audience.
But eventually, you have to remember that it's your channel.
You can't make everything everybody wants.
If you try, you'll probably end up making videos you don't even particularly want to make.
And what's the point in that?
I think I'd rather make a video about something I'm genuinely interested in and have 500 people enjoy it than make something I don't care about simply because I think it might get 5,000 views.
Maybe that's easy for me to say because I'm not relying on YouTube to pay my bills.
And that's an important distinction.
If YouTube is your income, the decisions become much harder.
Perhaps the biggest help is giving yourself permission to slow down
The more I think about this, the more I wonder whether sometimes the help a YouTuber needs isn't another person at all.
Maybe it's simply permission to slow down.
To say:
"I'm not making a video this week."
To take a break.
To spend time with family.
To go somewhere without taking a camera.
To do something purely for yourself.
And not worry about what the algorithm thinks.
Because I suspect that once you start looking at views, watch time, click-through rates and subscriber numbers, it's very easy to become obsessed with them.
One video gets 1,000 views.
The next gets 2,000.
Brilliant.
Then the next only gets 700.
And you start wondering what went wrong.
But sometimes nothing went wrong.
That's just YouTube.
Some videos find an audience.
Some don't.
And I think it's important not to let those numbers determine whether you think you've made a good video.
So, when would I say a YouTuber needs help?
I wouldn't say it's when they reach a particular subscriber number.
I'd say it's when the channel starts taking more from them than they're getting back from it.
When they're constantly under pressure.
When they're working late into the night.
When they're worrying about the next upload.
When answering comments becomes a chore.
When the editing never seems to end.
When the business side starts overwhelming the creative side.
And, most importantly, when they stop enjoying it.
Because that's the point at which I'd be asking myself:
"Why am I doing this?"
Getting help isn't admitting you've failed.
Quite the opposite.
It probably means you've created something that's grown beyond what one person can comfortably manage.
And perhaps that's actually a sign of success.
But I think there's a danger in becoming so focused on growing the channel that you forget why you started making videos in the first place.
For me, the enjoyment is the important bit.
Going out.
Seeing something interesting.
Learning something new.
Taking the cameras with me.
Coming home and putting the story together.
And then sharing it with people who might enjoy it too.
That's the bit I wouldn't want to lose.
Because ultimately, whether you have 500 subscribers, 50,000 or 5 million, I think the question is still the same:
Are you still enjoying making the videos?
If the answer is yes, then you're probably doing something right.
And if the answer is no, perhaps that's when it's time to get a little help — whatever that help might look like.
