Substack and I Are Figuring Out How We Fit In

May I be transparent with you?

Soir Bleu by Edward Hopper

Many of you are well-versed in Substack culture. Others, however, get this email once a week and think Substack is merely an efficient distribution service, like Mailchimp or a Colombian cartel.

If that’s you, I’d like to give you some background about what Substack was and is. Then I’ll get into a change I’m making to my Substack.

You probably noticed that I just referred to the platform as Substack, then called this my Substack. Some people find this confusing, but it’s the same principle as saying “my Facebook” or “my Instagram.” If you’re someone who says “my X,” however, I don’t think we should be friends anymore.

The key difference is that Substack isn’t a social media platform. Although it kind of is. It’s also not strictly a showcase for writers, which it definitely was. And again, it’s not a distribution service, but it is in part.

It’s all as clear as printer ink.

Substack launched in 2018 as a platform for writers. You could open an account and write about whatever you wanted to. Or, more commonly, you’d create a Substack and let it lie dormant for the foreseeable future.

If you did start to publish, though, people could subscribe to you. If you wanted to add a tier for paying subscribers, you could do that too.

Substack made money by taking 10% of every subscription fee. The payment service, Stripe, took another small percentage. Roughly 86% went to the writer.

But you didn’t have to be a writer to open an account; many people joined Substack as readers.

All of this is still true.

Then, in June 2023, Substack introduced a feature called Notes. Here, you could “restack” your own piece or someone else’s, jot off a pithy thought, post a pic of your dog, virtue signal, say something controversial in a desperate attempt for attention, or do any of the other absolutely worthwhile things people do online.

Notes was met with mixed reactions. Some writers embraced the feature because it provided another way for readers to discover them and an outlet for thoughts that didn’t fit into one of their usual posts.

Others saw it as an unwelcome attempt to turn Substack into more of a social media platform instead of a haven for writing. After all, the last thing you want in a library is a bunch of bells and whistles.

Everyone’s opinions were valid. But while the latter group shouted “Slippery slope!”, the optimists felt secure in Substack’s writer-focused footing.

Two months later, Substack enabled people to embed video into their pieces. Then they rolled out new features for video creators in a pointed effort to poach them from TikTok and YouTube. The company was fully embracing the creator economy, a phrase I dislike even more than “starring Shia LaBeouf.”

That slope was getting slipperier.

Then the company introduced a feature called Substack Live, enabling people to air real-time broadcasts. This was quickly embraced by journalists who’d fled the raging inferno of legacy media for the chance to go independent and report with more freedom and cursing.

Along the way, Substack has made a concerted effort to attract those journalists, along with authors, politicians, and celebrities. How’s this for a surreal dinner-party guest list: Salman Rushdie, Jim Acosta, Jasmine Crockett, Joyce Carol Oates, Katie Couric, Neko Case, George Saunders, Andrew Sullivan, Pamela Anderson, Chuck Palahniuk, Adam Kinzinger, S.E. Cupp, Margaret Atwood, and John Cleese.

Speaking of which, there’s an unimaginable abundance of great things to read, and watch, on Substack, including incredible stuff from thousands of people whose names you don’t yet know. There’s tons of talent here. So allow me to put in a plug for the Substack app. If you weren’t aware of it, there’s a link below so you can download it.

Now then. How does all of this relate to what I’m doing?

I understand why people get upset about Substack’s evolution. But I think it was inevitable. The company has received multiple rounds of funding, and one thing you don’t often hear about professional money guys is that they like to get a return on their investment.

I know. I was taken aback too.

If Substack wanted to grow in any meaningful way, they had to level up. The founders want to make money, and they want to make money for their backers.

I want to make money too. It’s not my primary motivation here, but I’d like people to appreciate my work enough to want to support me. It’s financial support, sure, but it’s also emotional support. But we’ll get to that.

As the platform has evolved, so has my approach to it. I’ve changed the name of my Substack, along with its look. Twice.

I’ve learned some extremely helpful information from Substack experts, including how to rethink things when the platform changes its discovery algorithm, which it does 14 times a day. I’ve also learned strategies that are proven to attract paying subscribers.

There’s a lot more to it, but the general idea is to provide these people with something extra, like exclusive essays, courses, or resources.

With that in mind, last year I introduced a feature for paying subscribers called The Midway. A departure from my typical essays, these pieces appeared on the third Friday of the month. At the time, I felt it was the right thing to do.

Providing a little somethin’ extra for paying subscribers makes a lot of sense for people whose Substacks are educational or offer a service or expert political analysis—things like that.

I no longer think it makes sense for me. The majority of people who support my writing financially did so before I introduced The Midway. They did it simply because they wanted to. That’s the same reason I pay to subscribe to other people’s Substacks. I do it because I like what they do, not for additional perks.

So, I’m taking a different approach. One that feels more authentic to who I am and how I want people to interact with my writing.

The Midway is dead. From now on, all of my posts will be free to everyone.

That raises the question of what I’m doing extra for paying subscribers. Against all advice, the answer is nothing. How’s that for a sales pitch?

For anyone who became a Premier subscriber because of The Midway and would like a prorated refund, just let me know and I’ll make that happen.

I love writing here, and I love when people like my stuff. If it makes you laugh and you feel that it’s worth spending a little money on, that would be lovely. If not, that’s fine too.

Long term, I want to write here and in other venues full-time. Every one of you who chooses to become a paying subscriber gets me closer to that goal. And I won’t forget you. When I write my book, you’ll be thanked.

Toward that end, the Premier moniker is gone too. Paying subscribers will now be known as Patrons, which is a more apt term for the support you give me. This also allows me to think of myself as the da Vinci of double entendres, or the Michelangelo of mockery.

I’m also thinking about how I might incorporate video more, not as a replacement for my writing, but an addition.

As you probably know by now, I do a biweekly Substack Live with Shelly Mazzanoble called Funny Story, which you should definitely check out because, without fail, it goes off the rails quickly. There are other fun ways I think I could use video, so stay tuned for that a little further down the road.

In the meantime, thanks for reading. And remember, all posts are now free to everyone. But just a few dollars a month gets you nothing, and if you choose a yearly plan you essentially get two months of nothing at no cost to you—so act now!

In the app (or on the website), you can like, comment, and find other great writers.