just another Substack about Substack
Reflections on Substack and a reminder to myself to unplug from the 'growth' rat race.
So…I’ve been on Substack for nearly three months now. I think it’s a good time to swerve off course and reflect upon my Substack experience and, more specifically, the recent proliferation of Substack-focused posts.
Some Background
I tend to be competitive and passionate. My M.O. is intensely pouring myself into whatever my current obsession is.
For most of my life, my obsession was the guitar. At first, I’d practice six hours a day because I loved it. Years later, when I attended Berklee College of Music and began to think of music as my career, I practiced because I was competing for limited opportunities, competing for approval from professors, and seeking admiration amongst peers.
Later on, as graduation loomed and the how-the-fuck-am-I-gonna-make-money-as-a-musician reflex kicked in, networking—creating superficial yet useful “relationships” with other musicians and amassing YouTube subscribers and Instagram followers— became my new focus.
This self-spawned competition and desperate hunger for network growth drove a wedge between myself and the guitar. Once a playground, the practice room became a drab cubicle complete with self-imposed bureaucratic rules, smarmy brand expectations, and hollow rote.
It took me many years to overcome this wedge and recover my old passion.
Substacks About Substack
Recently, I’ve noticed an influx of growth posts making the rounds on Substack.1
We’ve all seen ‘em telling us How to Expand on Substack! or How to Reach 1,000 Subscribers!—they’re the modern progeny of 3 Quick Tricks to Lose Belly Fat FOR GOOD!! and The ONE Thing You NEED to Become an AMAZING Guitarist!!!
When I stumble upon them, I feel the familiar pressure of competition swirl in my chest like phantom whiskey tingles in a recovering alcoholic’s nostrils.
Right off the bat, I’d like to note that there’s nothing wrong with these posts. Hell, I stop and read ‘em because who doesn’t want to grow?! What writer doesn’t want readers?
After all, we live in a world that teaches us to crush and kill our goals—to affix our gaze upon them and run full bore, barreling through anything foolish enough to get in our way. Growth posts are tools that aid our sprint towards our writerly goal: the accumulation of eyeballs.
However, these posts are double-edged swords. They offer a strategy to grow readership while inciting the sour awareness that we’re not where we want to be. Growth posts spotlight our voids, yet-to-be-desires, and primal thirsts. They’re funhouse mirrors, showing illusory images of ourselves riddled with holes.
Redefining Growth
What is growth anyway? What does it mean to grow?
Sure, growth as a Substack writer could mean increasing your subscriber count. It’s very easy to measure growth this way: I have X more subscribers than yesterday. Therefore, I have grown! However, despite the alluring simplicity, a metric-obsessed approach to writing is a slippery slope. As someone with a previous bout of prioritizing metrics over passion, I’ve attempted to redefine what growth could mean (to me, at least.)
Growth as a writer could also mean cultivating a mindset that treats growth posts as opportunities to practice presence and confidence. Unplugging yourself from the rat race, attaining the ability to consume growth posts without stoking inferiority, and transcending the illusion of # of subscribers == masterful writing are all forms of growth.
Don't allow growth posts to cultivate despair or envy. If you feel envy boiling in your gut as you read them, just smile at it! Use these moments to reaffirm your intentions and remember why you joined Substack in the first place: to write, to read, to socialize.2
While I don’t think growth posts are inherently evil, we should approach them with a healthy weariness and consume them in moderation. If Substack becomes just another vehicle to get ourselves in front of eyeballs, it’s easy to lose sight of how wonderfully unique Substack is. Substack is not Facebook or Twitter or Instagram—everyone I’ve encountered on Substack has been warm, highly intelligent, and excellent at what they do.3 All of the interactions I’ve had through Notes and comments have been substantial and enlightening—I cannot say the same about the aforementioned social media sites!
I worry that I—as someone with a tendency to get addicted to attention and growth—will lose sight of what Substack offers if I continue my gluttonous consumption of growth posts.
I fear I’ll again become the musician so obsessed with being heard and superficial metrics that he forgets to practice his instrument—or worse, forgets why he picked it up in the first place.
I don’t want writing to suffer the same fate as the guitar. I’m writing this post as a reminder to myself (and anyone else who can identify) not to get caught up in the growth mindset at the expense of passion.
Break glass in case of emergency…
Dear future self,
I hope this letter finds us well! Just stopping by to say: by all means, keep consuming these growth posts, but please don’t take them too seriously. Take ‘em with a grain of salt. In fact, many of them are calorically trivial, cause heartburn, and are statistically linked to envy. Think about that the next time we binge!
It will do us good to heed the wisdom from our humble past self:
Don’t spend our time chasing shiny objects— we’ve learned the hard way not to root our identity and self-worth in nebulous external things (how many subscribers we have, how many people read our latest post, blah blah blah)
Do spend our time getting lost in our craft, throwing caution to the wind, and meeting new people.
Do remain vigilant! Keep our eyes peeled for any symptom of acute growth fetishization; examples include (but are not limited to):
the strong urge to engage in empty performances
increasingly frequent bouts of insincerity
the inability to sit still
commenting for the sake of commenting
a sudden fear of negative numbers
jealousy
imagining what parts of your post are likely to be quoted in potential re-stacks
neurotically refreshing the dashboard
diarrhea (of the mouth and/or anus)
Promise us this: at first sight of a symptom, we’ll sprint like hell in the opposite direction—we’ll take a breather from the growth posts and take time to recalibrate and refocus.
Remember: we’re not here to collect eyeballs. We’re not here for anyone else’s sake. Don’t blindly revere growth because we live in a time fearful of stillness. If growth becomes our primary focus, we’re in danger of leaving our passion behind.
Sincerely,
A past self
P.S. We know we’re not silly enough to do this, but, out of due diligence, under no circumstances should we put a “Thanks for reading/Subscribe” button under this post! It will completely undermine everything we’ve just said!
I suspect Substack has become self-aware and joyously spends its days mukbanging our nuggets of attention—rewarding those who bring it sweets to binge.
Funnily enough, you can do all of these things with zero subscribers!
Y’all are a beautiful fountain of production!
Not all growth is positive, ask a doctor. Jokes aside, Substack has been good for finding and connecting with writers you like. People have made more meaningful connections on Substack than on any other social media combined during a lifetime. Maybe an exaggeration. No platform is immune to the nefarious dynamics of "social" media. When I see these growth posts, workshops etc. regurgitating the obvious, I ignore them, and so should you.
The best thing about Substack for me is the sense of community. It's a great place to meet other writers. The fixation on subscriber counts, or how many likes your posts or your notes get, is exhausting, and none of us are immune to it, I suppose. I have few subscribers, but those who do read and comment on my work I think of as friends and peers.