Substack kills creativity
Maybe I hate it here???
When I was fifteen years old in high school I had a blog called Jenny Likes to Run. It was hosted on Wordpress and I posted three blogs a day (absolutely bonkers, I know), about my running and healthy living journey.
(Upon reflection I now see that I actually had an eating disorder, but ANYWAY!)
I shared every aspect of my life in this way and learned everything I could about coding and HTML to format that ugly ass platform. The website still exists today.
Before switching to Wordpress, I posted on Blogspot. I treated that little website like my digital diary, which was not a great thing given the lack of development of my pre-frontal cortex… I’m sure if my mother knew how much of my life I was sharing to a bunch of strangers online she would have had a conniption.
Throughout my busy schedule posting three times a day and also studying for exams, I ran a modestly successful Tumblr account call Lez Girls, inspired by The L Word. It was more of a visual diary, and as a baby queer living in the regions of Aotearoa, the only place I was able to find any other fellow gays. I also met my first girlfriend on there which is kinda cute.
The point of all of this is, I felt so free.
Even if my ideas were shit, they flowed freely and abundantly. Even if no one read them, I didn’t care. I had a lot to say and a desperate urgency to say it.
I didn’t just write about what was happening in my life, I would write essays and opinion pieces, hoping that I would one day make a living as a writer and even then understanding that the only way to get better is to just do it.
The level of confidence I had in my extremely average work was honestly delusional but kinda inspiring. I wish I had retained even one iota of that enthusiasm.
It used to be that each day I’d fill pages in a notebook with story and essay ideas. I was constantly thinking about what I could write an article about and how I could improve and build my portfolio.
Fifteen year old me would have absolutely FROTHED over Substack. I would have been so prolific and insufferable. And when I started my account of here, I had high hopes for the same zeal and enthusiasm I had in my teens.
Sadly, instead, I am overwhelmed and absolutely clueless as to what to talk about on here.
Every day I come on this platform and see endless analytical essays from twenty-somethings about their deeply philosophical take on the world. So many of these young ones with so many organised thoughts to share constantly. (I honestly have no idea how they find the time.)
When I open the Substack editor to write something of my own, I am stumped.
Where is that same energy of extremely ADHD fifteen year old me?
Part of the joy of partaking in online blogging back in the day were the people I’d meet. I connected with others around the world (and across the country) who shared the same interests as me.
And maybe it’s just me, but I don’t get that here on Substack.
Instead, of a close-knit community vibe, even like that of Tumblr, it can often feel like an echo-chamber of “intellectual competition” between people barely out of their teens who are desperate to sound like a thought daughter or the next Joan Didion.
(Although I will say, I felt so seen on my last post by other fellow haters who were glad to see some acknowledgement that it’s ok to hate terrible books.)
My inability to churn out regular think-pieces often leaves me questioning my ability and validity as a writer. I know that’s stupid but it’s the truth. I always imagined I’d be writing essays and opinion pieces for a living in my studio apartment and having weekday brunches with my friends à la Carrie Bradshaw.
I want so bad to believe that Substack, this up and coming platform that was founded in New Zealand, is the future of social media. But with good writing sinking to the bottom and mediocre fluff content being rewarded and rising to the top, I’m not entirely sure this platform is helping me to do my best work and become the writer I hope to someday be. Or to make genuine connections with likeminded people.
This is not a leaving post or anything. I’ll still be here to share book recommendations (and un-recommendations) and I have some exciting collaborations coming up soon.
But I felt compelled (for the first time in a long time) to share an experience I am having that I think a lot of writers on here might be feeling but not saying.
As for that 15 year old girl, I think she grew up and became self-aware. She refined her taste in art and writing, and raised her expectations of her own work accordingly.
I will continue to write and work on honing my craft, but as of now I’m relinquishing myself of my self-imposed expectations around posting frequency.
If you’ve felt any of this, then please feel free to share. This could be a fun little space for conversation.
Looks like we got ourselves a classic case of writer’s existential dread, brought to you live from the mean streets of Substack, where the number-one fear ain't failure, it’s not being smart enough for the cool kids’ table. You got seasoned blog veterans missing the Wild West days of WordPress, Tumblr, and whatever dark corners of the internet we all used to overshare on before the algorithm overlords took over. Now, everybody’s staring at the blank page, paralyzed by the idea that their thoughts might not be deep enough.
"This whole "Substack is an echo chamber of intellectual posturing" thing, well, yeah. Every platform eventually fills up with people trying to sound smarter than they are. Welcome to the human condition. But guess what? You don’t have to participate. You don’t have to play Thought Olympics against some 23-year-old with a degree in Existential Crisis Studies. Just write what you want. The good thing about Substack? Nobody’s stopping you.
And let’s talk about this “I’m too self-conscious to post” epidemic in the comments. People saying they sat on their first post for a YEAR? That’s not a writing problem that’s an overthinking problem. You’re not submitting your work to be enshrined in the Library of Congress. You’re not drafting the next Magna Carta. If the pressure’s too much, you might just be taking this a tad too seriously.
Every platform these days is engineered to make us feel like we’re performing for some invisible panel of judges. But back in the day, when you were cranking out three blog posts a day you didn’t care who was watching. You just did it. And that’s the key. Stop worrying about what will “do well” and just do well by yourself.
If you wanna write like you’re 15 again, then do it. Write like nobody's reading. Hell, maybe nobody is reading. That’s freedom! That means you can say whatever you want, however you want, whenever you want. You don’t need Substack to hand you a warm, fuzzy community.
Same. I feel self conscious on here and took forever to publish my first post because I was afraid of not having anything important enough to say (when all I really want is to read and write about books and personal experiences - not quite meaning of life stuff). We don’t all have to be philosophers.