who's even a writer, anyway?

in defense of writing about nothing, because nothing is still something

There’s an essay making the rounds on here that’s riled everybody up with its appraisal of the current Substack machine. Penned by business writer Emily Sundberg, the essay discusses Substack’s evolution as a writing platform and how clickbait, promotions, listicles, and low-brow content are taking over what once was a space for real writers.

Before I share my unfiltered thoughts on the narratives buzzing around Sundberg’s essay, I want to be clear about my intentions. I do not want to disparage or disrespect her in any way. I do not think her thoughts are “wrong,” even though they are out of line with my own. There is no ultimate truth in writing, or in anything for that matter, but I’ll do my best to distill my truth with the hope that others’ thoughts will be reflected within that. It’s important that we continually find ways to hold healthy discourse without being mean, disrespectful, or reductive, and that is what I am attempting to do here.

Back to the essay in question, I think the reason this piece has hit a nerve with so many people, me included, is because of the lens and expertise of the writer: business. I am not here to disagree with her expertise on that front, but instead, to question why we are enabling the business mentality to corrupt writing any more than it already has. Globally, the publishing industry was valued at $91.39 billion in 2023, and is projected to grow to $163.89 billion by 2030. If you’re following the money, Substack is not the place to be, especially if you’re looking for hyper-curated content that lives up to an infallible standard and uniform way of being. That’s not to say that the publishing industry completely discourages new forms of writing, but it does routinely reward writing that checks all of the traditional boxes. And you want to know a secret? So does Substack, just without the billions of dollars fueling it.

After reading people (mostly people with successful Substacks) discuss how the “repetitive, surface level” content is rising to the top of their feeds, I decided to take a look at the current charts of some of the most popular sections (specifically Culture, Philosophy, U.S. Politics, Education, and, of course, Business). This is what I found:

The Rise of Neotoddlerism

AGAINST THE GAME OF TOTAL WAR

What I told the BBC

Why We Can't Be Tolerant of Racist Republican Slogans Like "Joe and the Hoe"

The machine in the garden.

In my journey through the charts, I failed to see the problems that Sundberg or any of the writers supporting her essay were talking about. Every single section on Substack is topped with exceptional writing by serious writers, free of buzzwords and clickbait, full of meaningful content and perspective. It seems to me that the problem here is not actually about who deserves success on Substack, but who deserves to be here at all. It’s perfectly acceptable to criticize the algorithm when you’re being suggested content you don’t find interesting, but it’s misguided and irresponsible to aim those critiques at your fellow writers.

Merriam-Webster defines writer simply: one that writes. Other than being linguistically inaccurate, it’s unfair to question someone’s ability to call themselves a writer just because their content feels inauthentic or repetitive to you. What defines good writing varies from person to person, and there is a fundamental issue with expecting your opinion to be held up as the standard. That perspective assumes that everyone is writing with the goals of traditional success and making their craft their career at the forefront. I am someone who has no plans to pursue writing as a full-time endeavor, and yet I hold deep respect and admiration for those who do. In the same vein, I think it’s more than fair to expect career writers to respect part-time writers, casual writers, diaristic writers, messy writers, emerging writers, lazy writers, hobby writers, confusing writers, and yes, even bad writers.

The top is already filled with the MFA writers, the career writers, the publishing industry darlings, or at the very least, people who can match the quality levels of those groups. That is indisputable. So, I’m stuck wondering what the problem is with people taking up space at the bottom of the barrel. The fact that they’re trying to monetize it? In my experience here, it is only the top of the top who are actually monetizing their content, and monetizing content doesn’t guarantee people will pay for it. If someone is making money off of Substack, it’s because individuals are choosing to engage with their work. I understand the natural frustration that might arise from watching someone do what you do with not even half the same perceived effort, but your decision to make a career out of writing does not give you the right to talk down or belittle the work of writers who do not. People subscribe to publications for a reason, they give money to specific writers for a reason. Who are we to judge whether the person on the other end deserves it?

There is no need for people to prove themselves, especially to strangers, before identifying as a writer; It’s not a limited title. One more person calling themselves a writer doesn’t make you any less of one. We also can’t underestimate the power of taking up that label as a defense against imposter syndrome. For many people, getting comfortable with that identity is the very first step of their creative journey, so shouldn’t we do what we can to encourage people to call themselves writers?

The conversations I’ve been observing and participating in online about this topic have made me think of other artists and art styles that have been met with invalidation when they first emerged. My favorite poet, Mary Oliver, was bombarded with criticism and claims that her conversational, simple style was not real poetry because it lacked depth and technique. When true autobiographical songwriting first emerged, the music industry was slow to warm to it because someone telling their real story over music didn’t work as a product. That’s the exact mindset I’ve been seeing in this current conversation. Breaking down the walls of writing, and removing it from academia, capitalism, and rigidity begs the question, “Who’s the audience? Where’s the benefit? What’s the product?”

And what do we do if there is no product?

Does that mean the work in question is meaningless? Does that mean it’s better off to just keep it locked inside our heads? I can’t accept that as the solution.

This is not a factory. This is not a hiring office. This is not your publisher’s office. This is Substack. I’m not trying to be ignorant of the fact that Substack is a business. I know that ultimately it’s a content creation machine designed to provide writers with a unique way to monetize their writing, but isn’t it a good thing that those capitalistic motivations are being challenged? I’d like to believe the future of Substack is one where the best writing continues to rise to the top AND there is space for everyone to be a writer if they would like to be. There is an opportunity to use Substack, not as just another publishing house or social media platform, but as a vessel to expand the confines of what writing is. We can cultivate a supportive, open, encouraging environment where people can feel free to try on the writer role and express themselves in a new or unfamiliar way. We can view and love writing for all it is, expression, art, craft, tact, creation, communication, conversation, proof of existence.

I wrote this response tonight because I think it’s important to remember who really makes up the Substack community. It’s people like me and, probably, you, parked at the bottom of the barrel with all 20 of our subscribers. It’s easy for conversations held here to feel like a vacuum. More often than not, it seems they’re completely controlled by a select group of writers with large, loyal audiences (usually not undeserved). That’s pretty inevitable with platforms like this, but maybe this essay can exist to remind us, the Substack proletariat, of our power. People will always have opinions (We’re writers. That’s kind of our whole thing), but we will always have the ability to disagree with and reject those opinions. A person’s subscriber count or reach doesn’t give their voice any more importance than yours, so use it. Be loud and unapologetic as you write. Remember that you have as much of a right to write as anyone else. Your voice is irreplaceable and unique, and people are waiting to hear it.

If you don’t get any likes on your posts, keep writing. If you don’t have any paid subscribers, keep writing. If you don’t want any paid subscribers, keep writing. I will be here to read your listicles, your messy diaristic rantings, and your disorganized analysis. There is an audience here that is hungry for truth, and just because that audience can’t be fed with numbers or data doesn’t mean they aren’t here. Every single person has something worth writing about, and we are lucky to be able to pay witness to those somethings. We are lucky to be in the presence of so many writers. Writers like me, and writers like you.

Alex