Substack is Social Media Now, I Guess

Damn those check marks.

Please consider becoming a paid subscriber to Assembling Remnants. It’s less than $3 a month if you choose a yearly subscription, and your paid subscription really helps me as a writer, in so many ways.

When I started my Substack over three years ago, things were pretty quiet on this platform.

So quiet that I didn't call Substack a platform at all. Now, with the advent of “Notes,” which functions almost exactly like Twitter, plus a new influx of (talented and lovely) writers, many of them well-known, Substack has started to overwhelm me. After quitting social media over a month ago I started to ask myself: is Substack social media?

The answer? Well, it can be. Yes. But it can also remain a place where I write my little newsletter and engage with friends and readers.

I must admit, though, I’ve started to get the same kinds of feelings here that I had on social media: like there are clubs to which I’ll never belong. I’ve felt this way forever— first as a kid moving from place to place, then as a wildland firefighter turned writer, and now, well, as me. Someone who will always feel like an outsider no matter what, I think.

Unlike many writers on this platform with large subscriber bases, I didn’t come here with a large following from any social media platform, and I also never got seed-money from Substack in order to take the time and build my readership. I have nearly 3,000 subscribers, and all of you came here over time. Many of you arrived here after you read my essay on The Unpublishable.

Out of 2,725 very active subscribers, 66 are paying for my work (which I greatly appreciate). Long ago I gave up on the idea of supporting myself on this platform, primarily because I have so much (unfortunately low-paying) work outside of Substack. I am a working-class writer whose income is well below what would be considered middle-class. I can’t currently afford to put as much time as I’d like into this newsletter, and because of that, it’s difficult for me to create a newsletter people want to pay for; or maybe it’s difficult to figure out how to convince people that my work is worth $3 a month? Idk.

Lady Absinth // Ferdinand Keller

I feel my own shame and resistance even as I write the words above.

Who am I to complain? I’m lucky that so many people want to read my work, and that sixty-six of you think my work is worthy of your hard-earned money. I am grateful for each and every one of you, lovely readers. Truly.

But if I go onto Notes, there are so many posts by writers who seem to have lots of time to devote to their ‘stacks, or more energy than me. Such incredible and talented writers! And then there are the posts about HOW TO MONETIZE YOUR SUBSTACK and how to create a community. The subtext with the latter is: if you haven’t fully monetized your Substack, it’s essentially worthless, and you are wasting precious time and energy. All you need to do is think of the right headline, the right pitch, and you’ll gain thousands of paid subscribers!!!!!

This is A LOT OF PRESSURE!!!!!!!!!!!

Especially because I started my Substack as a refuge from social media, years before leaving social media was part of a larger conversation. Suddenly I’m on social media and all these people are holding that carrot in front of me again, telling me that I need to strive for subscribers (aka followers) in order to consider myself successful. ‘Stackers with hundreds of paid subscribers get a little orange and white check mark. Those with thousands get a TOTALLY ORANGE CHECK MARK!

Substack screams at me: DON’T YOU WANT A TOTALLY ORANGE CHECK MARK?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Dammit, Substack. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure if I want any checkmark at all.

Actually, I think I’d like for no one to have any checkmarks. Because checkmarks and subscriber counts are just another way to rank writers and thinkers and creative humans on a hierarchy, and THAT IS WHY I LEFT SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!

Listen, dear readers. Do you sense my change of tone? I’m sure you do. Because I was feeling really bad about myself when I first started writing this, and now I’m not.

Why should any writer feel bad about themselves when they are brave enough to send their writing out into the ether? Where anyone can read it? Why should a writer feel bad about themselves when everything they write is not marketing material but instead simply a bridge of connection to others?

I didn’t become a writer in order to get a check mark. I became a writer because I was desperate and alone and writing was (and still often is) the only way I could translate the world into something I could understand. Writing makes the world graspable. It makes me feel less alone— both as a reader and a writer myself.

Gosh, and you know, I’m happy to have nearly 3,000 people reading this newsletter. There are a lot of you who read my words when you see them in your inbox. Some of you open them again and again. That, to me, is the highest f*cking compliment, truly. If there is one single thing I want to do as a writer, it’s to help others feel less alone. I think that’s why I’m here on this earth, you know? And every one of you who leaves a comment or sends an email response or shares my work helps ME feel less alone.

That’s a really special thing, and it’s not something I can ever quantify.

So: pay or don’t pay. I’m not judging. I’m glad you’re here regardless.

I have faith that someday I will have a little bit more money and a little bit more time, but I’m not sure if this newsletter will ever be a well-manicured one, because I do have books to write (and read), and one human can only do so much. But I can dream, right? And I will. I’ll dream of writing good, meaningful things, and I’ll stop comparing myself to the many other writers writing good, meaningful things, and I’ll stop paying attention to the people telling me I should see everything in comparison with everything else.

Fuck the orange check-mark carrot. And I’m sorry, Notes, but I just can’t. I can’t with you!

Thank you so much, readers, for being here. I truly appreciate you.

Please feel free to use the comments as your soapbox and/or confessional, as long as you’re nice to me and the other people commenting.