Substack for (New) Readers
What Exactly Are We Doing Here?
If you’re a regular on Substack, you can skip to the end of this post where I offer some thoughts on a discussion that’s been playing out on the network. Since many of my readers aren’t Substack regulars, I wanted to create this post to explain the platform (and perhaps shed light on what Hardihood Books is).
Substack is a subscription-based platform for newsletters. But it’s also more than that. It isn’t just Mailchimp with payment processing – it’s a digital “place” for readers to find writers and for writers to find each other (and new readers).
It is a haven for free speech, a community based around the written word, and a tool that brings writers closer to their readers (and vice versa). There’s more direct interaction between readers and writers here than on most traditional platforms. And while social media might offer some of that type of interaction, it wasn’t designed specifically so that book authors could communicate with their fans, whereas Substack was designed specifically for communication between writers and readers.
Substack recently launched Notes, a social networking tool to connect the writers and readers of disparate newsletters. Writers follow other writers to stay abreast of the conversations occurring on the platform. Readers can join some of those conversations by following the journalists, authors, scientists, bloggers, athletes, and editors who make Substack their home. With many prominent writers decamping from Twitter, Notes is growing busier by the day.
But even with Notes, Substack remains a subscription-based newsletter platform. Substack only makes money when readers pay for subscriptions (and they take a relatively small percentage of subscription dollars, with the rest going directly to the writer).1
Some readers initially object to that: paying for subscriptions. But Substack was not founded to give internet users more free content, although the platform allows writers who prefer not to charge readers to publish endless free content if they wish.2 Substack was founded to provide writers an alternative model for making a living from their work that wouldn’t require running advertisements, on the theory that (some) readers would be willing to pay (some) money for newsletters if they knew that they would never be shown an ad and that their data would never be sold or traded to a third party.3
For those who object to paying to read something, there are two alternatives: ad-supported content (where the reader is the product), and generosity (where writers give all their work away for free without ever expecting anything in return, except maybe an occasional donation given by readers of goodwill).
For readers who don’t mind ads, there are still plenty of sites on the internet offering free content and selling your data to third parties. Nobody is required to pay a subscription for any writer’s newsletter on Substack. Everyone has a choice to read something else instead.
For readers who do think it’s fair to pay writers for their time and effort (and to pay for a platform designed for pleasant reading, one which will never show you an ad or misuse your data), there are tens of thousands of writers to choose from: writers who cover sports, medicine, politics, business, philosophy, art, education, and more.
That sounds like a good deal to me. I leapt at the chance to read (and write) on a platform without ads, where over eighty percent of my subscription dollars would go into the pockets of the writers whose work I enjoy.
With limited budgets, most readers must pick and choose which newsletters to pay for.4[4] If you’re like me, upon receiving an unexpected influx of cash, you go out and buy a bunch of books and pay for more online publications. Perhaps some of those publications are on Substack.
“But What Exactly Do I Get?”
That will depend on the particular newsletter. For example, later this month (September, 2023) I plan to release the first chapters in two serialized works of fiction: a historical novel inspired by Lewis and Clark, and a fantasy novella based loosely on the Roman Republic. I also have an archive filled with dozens of short stories, essays on random topics, and three previous novellas. Beginning this month, I’ll be publishing stories and essays by guest authors.5
If that sounds like something you’re interested in, a subscription costs $5 a month. If not, no hard feelings – there are newsletters covering almost any topic under the Sun. If you browse Substack, you’ll find something you’re interested in. You’ll see top-tier journalists, A-list authors, conspiracy theorists publishing their manifestos, and everything in between.
Substack wants to provide a platform that is pleasant for readers: a digital hub where you can find new authors, read all your favorites, and interact with other readers. In other words, something halfway between a bookstore-coffee shop and a Kindle. I think that vision has the potential to usher in a new period of flourishing for readers and writers of both fiction and nonfiction.6 Even local journalism, which many have said was dying, has begun to see new life thanks to Substack.
A Place for All Your Favorite Magazines:
As surprising as it may seem, a recent post on the demise of Fantasy magazine gave me reason to hope for the future.7 Among other factors, Amazon’s termination the Kindle Periodical program contributed to the storied magazine’s decision to close its doors.
If anything, the end of Kindle Periodical should be great for Substack, especially if some of the remaining magazines switch platforms. Substack’s model is more sustainable for publications offering serialized fiction than Amazon’s, so it should be a natural fit. As more of the serialized fiction market moves to Substack, more readers will migrate. If Substack becomes a new home of great fiction, that will create new Substack fiction readers (i.e., readers will tell their friends).
While it is sad that a great magazine closed shop, it doesn’t herald the end of short fiction. Because Substack lowers transaction costs for both writers and readers,8 it could make short fiction more lucrative than it has been anytime in the recent in the past. This led the author of the post I linked to “wonder if newsletters offer a viable path for at least a few lit mags.”
I suspect that will be the case. Which is in part why I chose this time to transition Hardihood Books from a personal newsletter to an online magazine. From the very beginning, it has been my intention to publish other’s work, and now that time seems to have arrived.
What Else is Substack?
From here, I’d like to turn to an intra-Substack debate, which I think will be illuminating for anyone still trying to wrap his or her mind around the question of what we are doing here. Recently, in response to some advice offered by the author Sarah Fay on being concise, a writer named Sam Kahn made some interesting observations about the platform.9 The controversy was over two different approaches to writing on Substack (although as Kahn pointed out in a later article half-apologizing to Fay, it’s a bit of a false dichotomy to suggest these two approaches are utterly in opposition – there is an element of truth to both): writing for internet audiences, and writing idiosyncratically.
Fay’s advice was sound for those trying to reach large numbers in the digital age:10 write very short posts, make them easily scannable, use bullets, keep it simple – readers rarely make it past a few hundred words. (Fay did say one type of reader still reads every word: those lonely souls who read for pleasure.)11
Kahn’s response was a defense of those of us who are on Substack because we don’t want to write for the “smart brevity” age, we want to write for people who want to read. Parts of his response resonated with me, because like him I don’t like sticking to a niche.
Many writers on Substack, according to Kahn, follow a smart approach similar to Fay’s. But Substack also has plenty of “weirdos… who write differently every time, and often write idiosyncratically, and for whom it takes some time and adjustment to figure out what they’re saying.” I had to laugh when reading that. He is, of course, describing himself, but also me. And what I have loved about Substack from the start is that they have intentionally made a home for idiosyncratic writers who fit that description, and that some of those writers are able to flourish on here. What is interesting about the platform is that there isn’t a single path to success. Although some common methods prove fruitful, there is a randomness to some of what succeeds on Substack.
As one might expect and as befits the platform, Kahn spends time talking about individuality and self-expression.12 Substack draws writers like us in part because of their commitment to both. Time and again, they have refused calls to suborn freedom of speech. They allow diverse individuals – from the mainstream to the oddballs, the popular to the obscure – to use the platform as we see fit, so long as we abide by the terms.
And if there is any place on the Internet where the typical rules (ex. people don’t actually read anything except headings and bullets) don’t apply, it’s Substack. Other than perhaps Kindle, it provides the most pleasant reading experience bar none. Perhaps because of that, long-form articles tend to do surprisingly well. Many of the top-performing newsletters publish weighty tomes weekly, monthly, or quarterly. “Who has time to read those,” you might ask. To which the natural response is, “Who has time to watch sports or television?” While Substack certainly wants to attract casual users, their natural market is readers, those of us who, all things being equal, find reading more enjoyable than almost any other pastime. The people who are slightly disappointed when a new book by their favorite author is on the shorter side (and, conversely, feel a surge of eagerness when the opposite is true). The people who, upon first alighting on a new article discussing a topic of keen interest, grow excited to see the scroll bar disappearing into a nanoparticle in the upper-right corner of the screen.
Fay’s advice to strive for brevity is duly noted. Writers like myself who tend towards lengthiness could do well to tighten up our prose and make life easier on new readers, who won’t all be “more extremely hardcore” readers. We could perhaps do a better job of staying on “brand.” Going forward, it would do well for many of us to strike a balance between “being ourselves” and appealing to wider audiences.
But the beauty of Substack, which struck me upon first encountering Kahn’s piece, is that it has allowed both types of writers to flourish. The well-branded, to-the-point, advice columnists. And the oddballs.
Dear Reader:
Thank you for reading this far. In the age of scanning, you have accomplished something few of your peers have. It may seem strange to congratulate someone for reading two thousand words (ok, a little more than that), but these are the times in which we live. I hope you learned something, or at the very least gleaned some momentary bit of pleasure. If you liked this post, please consider sharing it with someone else who also might like it.
Notes doesn’t have any ads, and Substack doesn’t make any money directly off of Notes.
And, for those who aren’t aware, Substack doesn’t charge writers to do that. They don’t make any money from writers who keep all their work free, but neither do they discourage anyone from doing that.
Substack doesn’t collect very much data on users, apart from email open-rates and site visits.
Many writers, including myself, offer plenty of free posts for readers who can’t afford a subscription. Signing up for a free subscription will put you on a writer’s mailing list. I’m on the free list for a number of Substacks beyond those for which I pay.
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Despite claims that ChatGPT or VR or YouTube are contributing to an end to reading as we know it, there are more readers every single day on planet Earth than there ever have been, and that doesn’t appear likely to change anytime soon. Amazon sells more books every single year. Reading’s demise has been greatly exaggerated.
Every business closure as an opportunity for something new.
And for larger publications.
I had seen some posts from Fay on Notes before, but otherwise was unfamiliar with either of the two before the controversy, the details of which aren’t really all that important.
And Kahn’s response was a little hard on her, especially considering that all she was doing was offering free advice to those trying to grow their writing businesses.
Like me. And perhaps, dear reader, like you.
And as one might further expect, I have my disagreements with some of what he has to say on individuality (I don’t think we contain multitudes, nor do I have any hostility towards the marketplace), which I don’t think is defined by expression. I share his preference for freedom of expression, but that preference stems from a deeper commitment to property rights, including intellectual property – something I plan to write on someday soon.