I see this line come up quite often: “I came to Substack to find readers.”

Setting up shop on Substack to “find readers” can be a trap. I joined Substack in 2021 simply to start an email list, and inadvertently found an audience. I was going to write and send newsletters regardless, but I’m grateful for the audiance I was able to build (just over 6.300 subscribers as I write this).

But… there’s a whole world of readers out there!

There are people doing podcasts, running YouTube channels, hosting live events – all these people are their own “platforms,” and doing work with them (interviews, workshops, collaborative projects) can bring in not just new readers, but engaged readers.

Something you said in an interview resonated. Maybe an off the cuff remark offered a new perspective for someone, or the story behind your work struck a nerve.

We need to stop trying to find readers, like they’re hiding in a dark forest or under a table. We need to be doing work so good that people notice and want to come along with the ride.

​What this is: Casual Zoom hang out where we work on our own websites, talk about why having a website is important, riffing on “your blog eats first,” and why not to put all our work on platforms we don’t control

​What this isn’t: a tutorial on building sites, an SEO seminar, a deep dive into HTML and CSS, and other super technical things

Tuesday, May 13
9:00 AM – 11:00 AM EDT

Register here: https://lu.ma/6pc8c308

From Bree Stilwell, talking about crying upon the experience of human nature and college radio, and how getting there came from a piece I helped with called “Ghosting Spotify: A How-To Guide.”

And here Kid is, with his own radio show, queuing up Amy Winehouse because he and his crew ‘blast her stuff all the time back home’ and telling his dad on-air that hosting his show would never have happened without him.

I cried into my breakfast not only because I’m a mom and often daydream about such flagrant and public gratitude from my own kids

Read the rest of “How a student DJ made me cry into my breakfast.” Then close your music streaming app and find a nearby radio station to listen to.

We used to blog a few times a week, and update our websites. But then we started shoveling our work onto the social media platforms by the truck load. At some point making billboards for our work became the work.

Those platforms would then reward us views, likes, impressions, comments, and most importantly – FOLLOWERS. The whole system was optimized for this: make it easy to post often, and then reap the so-called rewards. Some posts would “hit” because the casino had to pay out – otherwise, people stop playing.

Some of us left social media is various forms, shuttering one account, but maybe holding onto another. We leave, we go back. It’s like a toxic relationship we seemingly can’t quit, because there are conference rooms filled with highly paid people fighting for their livelihoods, doing whatever they need to keep people locked into their platforms.

As Alex Dobrenko says, “the casinos are very good at commodifying all attempts to leave their grasp.”

So when we consider untangling from the idea of, “well, that’s just the way things are,” it feels isolating. This is mostly because when we hit publish on a blog post, nothing happens. We run back to social media to get that one LIKE in the first few minutes. Someone will drop a “nice” comment, or a heart emoji.

When we send a newsletter we just get open rates, and how many people clicked. Or in the case of Substack, we get likes and re-stacks and views.

Some of those numbers tell stories, like a 10% open rate, sure. But we can’t lose sleep when our open rate drops from the week prior. There are real people on the other side of those numbers. People with jobs, family emergencies, break ups, and dentist appointments. Sometimes our work is not the most important thing at that very moment for our audience.

And it’s important to remember all this metric-gazing didn’t happen overnight.

The three tech overlords played a part in all of this; the phone makers, the data suppliers, and the platform barons. Their influence has become the technological equivalent of micro-plastics, embedded deep in our brains and culture.

Avoiding the influence of this unholy trinity will take time, but we’ve got to start somewhere. New rituals, new habits. Hit publish and go for a walk, or call a friend. Get some space between ourselves and the work. Otherwise we allow our work to sift through the never ending filter of commerce and metrics, and that’s not how we want to operate.

Someone said in a recent Escape Pod Zoom call that back in the day a writer might finish their new book, and… that would be it. No social media to check, no unending feed of six second video clips to get lost in. No followers or view counts to monitor.

The work was done, and then it was quiet. Maybe it’s supposed to be quiet.

Put something new on your website, and link it in your next newsletter. Your newsletter isn’t your permanent address, it’s a delivery truck. Build an archive of work on your website and link to your stuff from your newsletter!

I contributed my “5 Rules For a Good Newsletter” to Carolyn Yoo’s ‘Rules to Live By: 18 Creative Manifestos’ risograph zine, available now in print or digital format. Limited edition, so get yours today!

It was fun to bust out the Sharpie markers and make sure I kept things inside the lines for this zine that features Coleen Baik, Dan Blank, Anna Brones, Lian Cho, Kristen Drozdowski, Kelcey Ervick, Petya Grady, Amelia Hruby, Nishant Jain, Adam Ming, Jenna Park, Meera Lee Patel, Michelle Pellizzon, Beth Spencer, Nina Veteto, and Mitchell Volk.

I’m working with a client who writes magnificent 3,000 word essays. They’re well researched, beautifully arranged, and they’re starting to gain traction and getting paid subscribers.

The problem is; they write a 3,000 word essays every week.

If this were their full time job, this would be great. But it’s a side thing, and side things can easily start to crowd into other areas of our lives if we let them. And when it’s work we love doing, it happens quick, before we even realize it.

Your newsletter writing shouldn’t be a prison sentence. It shouldn’t feel like digging ditches. It shouldn’t be fraught with stress, or like dealing with a horrible boss. None of these things are desirable, and yet so many times we create these situations for ourself.

We get so wrapped up in the moment, in the performance, and we see a sliver of it working, and we lean in.

Before we know it, we’ve painted ourselves into a corner.

But I have good news: you’re the artist. You’re the conductor. You’re the band leader. You’re the director, the captain of the ship.

You got yourself into this situation, and you can get yourself out. Otherwise you burn out, resentment builds, and you’re working this new job for yourself that doesn’t pay the rent.

It’s okay to take your foot off the gas. It’s okay to write one 3,000 word essay 12 times a year.

If you need the extra day of travel time to show up bright and refreshed for a talk or a performance, take it, because otherwise you’re putting on a different kind of show, trying to impress everyone else except yourself.

We’re trying to be our own boss, so don’t be a bad one.

Believe that your true fans will probably stick around. Let the other people leave, that’s okay. There are thousands of people out there today who’ve never heard or seen your work, who have no idea exist.

What then?

What happens when they do find your writing, or your music, or your artwork, but your latest output was from seven years ago?

You crashed and burned because you piled up too many expectations of yourself, trying to meet some un-said protocol, trusting gurus instead of your gut.

The saying “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” doesn’t even apply here because marathons hurt, too, but in a different way.

Writing is still hard work, yes, but it shouldn’t leave you sore.

We’re going to see more of this in the months to come.

“The London Marathon will no longer post on X after its race director Hugh Brasher said the social media platform had “ceased to be a positive place“.

The London Marathon’s official account, which has 191,000 followers, last posted on X on 17 January 2025.”

The London Marathon probably has quite an email list, and decades of branding behind it. But don’t let that stop you from leaving places or platforms that no longer feel right.

Link via Fast Women.