Are we writers or content creators?

Nearly two years on Substack and I still don't know the answer.

Three weeks ago, I wrote this rather innocuous post (or so I thought) on Substack Notes after the platform announced its new feature for live video. It was an impulsive, knee-jerk reaction to the announcement. Didn’t expect the thread to go anywhere because I seldom post and when I do, I get a handful of likes at most.

Talk about mysteriously opaque algorithms—that post is weeks old and I’m still getting engagement on it even now.

But I guess it struck a nerve.

When I launched my first newsletter nearly 2 years ago, Substack was “just” a newsletter platform. After a years-long break from blogging, I wanted to write again. This seemed like a perfectly fine place to start over.

Like many of you who flocked here to escape algorithms, short-form videos, and engagement-bait content, it felt like a fresh start, but also a throwback to old blogging days. Long-form content was having a moment and Substack was touted as the alternative to ad and algorithm-driven models. Spend more time creating and less on marketing—or so they said.

Now I’m wondering if that core value was a fever dream.

You probably already know how much Substack has changed in the past two years. It’s evolved from a newsletter platform into a full-blown “new media ecosystem” and the pace in which they've released new features have been impressively dizzying. Even if we keep our blinders on and just write, as I plan to do, it can be hard to ignore all the other features because our notifications light up with promises of more engagement and reach. Host a chat! Try going live! Connect on Notes!

But that’s the crux of a platform whose entire business model is about the creator economy. We’re nudged with reminders all the time that writers can earn money. We’ve got a dashboard full of stats, and the built-in growth and recommendation engines—a product differentiator in the newsletter space—is a feature that actually delivers. I know I’ve benefited from it (thank you,

Coleen Baik

) Even if you’re not monetized and never plan to be, everything in this app is optimized for monetization.

And I get it. I worked in the world of digital products and startups for most of my career. I’m familiar enough with investors shaping product roadmaps that I understand the delicate balance between profits, people, and growth. Scaling a platform is hard, and Substack has no choice but to grow.

I’m not opposed to live video as a medium. I first went live on mobile nine years ago because it was part of my startup job, so it’s not unfamiliar (terrifying, however? YES!). I’d even go as far as to say that the early live video community restored my faith in online communities when I was at my most vulnerable point in life, so I’ve seen firsthand how viable and valuable it can be as a way to connect to audiences. But that doesn’t mean I have any desire to do it again.

I just want to write.

But what do other writers want? Who exactly wants this? Is Substack making a push to attract influencers, content creators, and the lucrative world they bring with them onto their platform? If so, where will this leave writers who just want to write?

Not surprisingly, I blame the algorithms for making me question everything again. As writers and artists, we were so starved for the engagement we used to enjoy on social media, that it compelled us to push ourselves into becoming self-marketing machines competing for views with teaser reels and other things we never wanted to make. I thought I left that all behind—the commodification of self, our curated online identities—but even with blinders on, it’s hard to escape.

I can’t even tell you how fast I click away from my dashboard of stats every time I log on. This, coming from someone who actually loves data. But I don’t want to know how many subscribers I’m gaining or losing. The green and red arrows are a distraction. I don’t care about target audiences or niches. I was never good at blogging about one thing and I still suck at it today. I still don’t even know how to categorize this newsletter within Substack’s list of existing categories.¹

Here’s a funny thing though: the unintended result of my post on Notes is that I picked up a handful of subscribers. How do I know? Substack told me.

Sorry, if this is crass. But thank you new paid subscribers.

The growth engine works! But do I want to play that game?

And so, this got me thinking: am I a writer or a content creator?²

I have a drawer of various cameras, a closet full of tripods, photo backdrops, and props—all gear from years of shooting, styling, and creating content for our now-closed bakery and social media accounts. If the definition of a content creator means creating and sharing quick consumable content for a target audience through various mediums, then I’ve been one for well over a decade.

One of the many silly fake scenes I’d set up and photograph. Who normally eats breakfast like this? It was for IG, tagged with stupid hashtags like #cupsinhand.

But then, what is this newsletter? When I started here, I was relieved to just write. No photos, no drawings. But then I slowly added back my photography, my drawings, and a list of links because I was worried that I wasn’t adding enough “value” for the generous paid subscribers who help keep this newsletter largely free.³ Am I not curating content again?

I’ve never made it a secret that I’ve been hesitant to call myself a writer. I’m not an author or a journalist. I have no aspirations to write a book. I don’t use this space to announce professional news or products I want to promote.

But earlier this year I finally embraced calling myself a writer because I recognized that writing was my vital creative outlet. If I was forced to choose, I could leave all the other creative mediums behind—videos, photos, and even drawing (I’m still trying to unpack that one), but not the writing.

This is wildly eye opening as someone who has always been a visual person. I built a 30 year career as a designer and spent my entire childhood drawing. It’s been my identity my entire life, but as I struggle to find my identity in mid-life now, I’ve come to realize that words—and not images—is the way I unpack the world and process all the messy and complicated stuff around me. For whatever reason, I can’t do that with art. I haven’t manage to identify whatever it is that’s been blocking me for the past three decades.

#stuck

While I’ve made writing a consistent practice for the past two years, I’ve never taken a writing class, a workshop, or had a mentor. I think I’m afraid to go there. I’ve seen how the over-education of my art training has held me back: I’m stuck in the technical grips of drawing and haven’t matured beyond my art school self. I overthink the process and the result. I don’t want to fall into that same trap with writing. If it means that writing stays a hobby and I remain an unpolished amateur in exchange for blissful ignorance and protection from my pursuit of perfection in the craft, then I'm fine with that.

I figure as long as I’m reasonably able to convey my thoughts with authenticity, I’m good. I have no idea if this is a stupid approach to writing or what, but I’m forging on, with blinders here, because at this current post-career moment in my life, I don’t know what else I am.

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This week’s drawing

I’ve been bad at sharing. I drew this a few weeks ago. Maybe I’ll just draw cats.

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Related reading

The moment I finally called myself a writer

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Links I enjoyed this week

• There Is Nothing Clean or Spare About Being a Human Thoughts on Bloodletting by Maria Robinson (Electric Lit)
  Quite a beautiful read.

• Will Plants Grow on the Moon? Three Earth plants will soon make a new home on the lunar surface. (Nautilus)
  Farms of the future? “Bioregenerative” life support is sending entire ecosystems to the moon to support astronauts in space.

• Is stress turning my hair grey? (The Conversation)
  I’ve gained many new subscribers recently from my newsletter about not deciding to go gray (welcome!). Here’s an interesting article on the science of growing gray. Specifically, I was curious to know whether dying my hair is accelerating the gray.

• How do you reduce a national dish to a powder? The weird, secretive world of crisp flavours (The Guardian)
  Absolutely fascinating. Especially how the process all begins.

1. Category I wish to create: Middle-aged Ramblings

2. My oldest kid calls me a micro-influencer. Bah. 😑

3. I still really can’t believe I have paid subscribers. Have I thanked you enough? No? Thank you thank you thank you. It’s far from a living wage by any means, but this newsletter is my most consistent stream of income right now.