The Shadows of Substack (and other platforms)
A call for audacious responsibility in the influencer era.
Kat River is a thriving symposium for the Mothers, The Mystics and the Makers. Designed to be an honest exploration of the dance between Motherhood, Creativity, Soulful business and self inquiry into optimism. Join thousands of other creatives and come play.
Friends, hello.
I’m writing about Substack today.
Mostly,
Though I’m also writing for those who feel like they are working hard, and not being seen, acknowledged or are growing too slowly on this platform.
It’s a post about our relationships to internet platforms (Very much Substack based, though the concepts are absolutely applicable elsewhere on other platforms.)
You’ve either already switched off, assuming this isn’t relevant to you…
Possibly you’re in the tiny percent of people saying YAS Kat, give it to us!
Or you’re confused.
Kat, (you say), we don’t control THE social media like Substack;
The social media platforms shape us!
Our experience there, is based on the app, and the culture of the app.
That damn algorithm.
I hate that I don’t feel seen or heard.
It’s all about the influencers.
People came here with big email lists.
It’s like cheating.
And honestly
I feel a bit cynical about these spaces and it’s totally valid.
Look and you’ll see.
Notes.
Threads.
Videos?
It’s basically twitter and instagrams lovechild now.
PLUS unless I do a post about Substack growth, with a little picture of my graph and stats….
how am I supposed to reach anyone or get featured?
It’s all about the hustle now.
Not about art.
Culture.
The written craft.
I ask you
Please
Don’t
be
that
guy.
Here’s why.
Do you remember why you came to Substack?
Maybe you were fleeing what felt like the sinking ship of instagram.
You felt drowned out on the pink little camera app. Posting for your mum and three friends from around town. You couldn’t wrap your head around reels. You grew tired of the pressure to constantly create.
Or perhaps you created a lot of content, put hours in, and watched your engagement and following in its gradual demise as static posts shifted to reels.
You decided it just wasn’t your space.
You knew that you weren’t just a quick hit.
A trend.
You,
had substance.
You
are a multifaceted human being.
You
are genuine.
Not to be confused as anything but.
Then you found Substack.
You arrived here with your backpack full of ideas and heart full of optimism.
It felt fresh.
New.
Exciting.
You were in awe of finding other writers, writing on interesting topics. You felt like you had just opened the doors to the most magnificent library, You felt welcomed. This could be your space to write and be seen for your brilliant mind.
You start writing.
You start acknowledging the fact, that you, are actually truly a writer.
You post.
Nobody see’s it.
But it’s okay all of a sudden, because it’s SUBSTACK not instagram.
You know, that it’s a slow build.
You know that it takes time to create something great.
You keep going
You show up
You begin to learn the platform.
People begin showing up to read what you have to say. Slowly.
You didn’t understand how community worked here at first.
You leant in and began to learn.
You’re doing the work.
All your expectations fly out the door.
12 likes on instagram felt like nothing.
Embarrassing even?
12 likes on Substack?
Well now it feels like the whole world opens up in opportunity.
12 likes on Substack. You’re basically viral.
Then,
you begin to compare.
You see
with 6 figs and assume she’s the next influencer of this corner of the online world. You pop her neatly in the basket of “out of your league influencer who get’s it given to her on some silver platter”.You’re not like that.
and her meet up and post a selfie.You kinda hate that their selfie got so many likes, where your post… got 12.
You kinda hate that you weren’t there too.
Perhaps you forget for a moment they have hearts and creative minds, and have absolutely done their time to grow in this space. To grow before this space, and beyond this space. Perhaps you forget all the unseen work it takes, to become seen as a creative.
You wonder what it would be like to make good money to write.
You snap yourself out of your fantasy.
Good for them. Sorta.
Notes gets introduced.
You see people beginning to press their panic button.
It feels a little like twitter.
Urgh.
Have you fallen into the trap of yet another social media?
Your breathing pattern changes.
Do you step back and close off for a little while?
Do you lean in and get swept up?
You feel a bit salty.
You start consuming more than you create.
Your ideas blur with what’s true to your heart vs what you think others want to read.
You post, but you feel uneasy.
You hate that others go viral
For their trending work.
“Substack growth this. Substack growth that”.
Why don’t they stay connected to more soulful work?
You know your ideas are unique.
You also secretly hope you get featured on Substack.
But you won’t admit it.
It’s better to be a humble writer.
Pretend like you only write for yourself and your craft.
Subtle. Humble. Right?
You forget that you came to this platform to learn to be seen for your words.
You forget that you’d otherwise just have a journal under your pillow filled with ideas, stories and essays.
You could pass it around for your friends to read.
Give it to your mum on a Friday night.
You decide maybe it’s easier to complain, about how slow the growth is, how hard it feels to gain any traction, or how easy it is for THEM….
Rather than truly, throwing yourself into the arena.
Pause.
You’re here
On Substack.
Because you wanted to connect to the strangers on the internet.
You wanted to create something that moved people. Entertained people.
Launched people into paradigm shifts,
or fits of laughter,
or to tears.
Mostly though,
Connection.
You wanted to feel connected. Less alone in your perspective and perhaps, have others feel less alone - because of you. Less alone as a writer typing away on your laptop at the dining table.
You remind yourself you’re here to grow as a human being first.
Develop your skills as a writer.
You remind yourself that getting featured won’t actually solve all your problems.
You lean in, start sharing on notes and interacting with others. You make an effort, you invest your time. You feel a little more connected to the community.
You feel a little more optimistic.
If they can grow slow,
So can I…
Maybe I don’t have to be an Emma Gannon.
Maybe,
Perhaps
I can just be me.
Maybe that’s enough?
Then you read this post (Sorry
you’re a great writer)It has you feeling a little frustrated.
That’s it.
You HAVE been sucked into another social media.
You agree with what she’s saying.
It feels good to not be alone in your fears.
You contemplate going back to your broken hearted lover - Instagram.
Though then,
You arrive here.
You read this
post. You also subscribe to her.She tells you to check yourself.
So you keep reading.
You’re a creative.
She’s talking to you.
You’re on Substack.
She’s talking to you.
You’ve been “voicing concerns” over Substack.
You’ve got ideas on how to make it better.
More suited
To your needs.
She’s talking to you.
You don’t feel as appreciated here as you believed you would be.
You’re a bit sick of the Substack influencers sucking all the glory.
She’s talking
To you.
She writes you a letter.
You’re a little on the defence.
But you’re open.
Willing,
To maybe,
Be open to changing the narrative.
Dear reader who’s feeling a little cynical about Substack.
I see your comments on notes.
Frustrated that others are being seen on this platform, and your hard work and consistency hasn’t yet been acknowledged in the ways you hope. It may seem all about subscriber counts and metrics.
I get it.
It’s fair enough.
We are all in the same boat of wanting our work to be appreciated, and enjoyed.
I’d love for you to consider a few things,
Then see if you feel the same afterwards.
What if it’s not Substack.
Or instagram.
Or Facebook.
Or twitter.
What if
The common denominator
Is
You.
I know, I feel the inner recoil.
Stay curious with me.
What if,
It’s not social media
That has us feeling insecure about our voice.
What if we, are using social media,
as a tool,
to keep us addicted to feeling insecure about our voice.
If it wasn’t here, the same insecurity would simply show up elsewhere.
What if it’s not the influencers that we feel threatened by, but it’s actually the part of us that disconnects from empathy and the perspective of their entire story.
What if we feel threatened by our own lack of empathy and compassion, that it’s easier to project it onto them as if it’s their fault that you are not where you’d like to be?
What if we stopped assuming ‘they’ owe us anything other than what they choose to give, and instead focusing on what WE choose to give?
Better yet, assuming “they” are truly any different to “us”.
Is it Substack, that’s getting busy with notes and the pressure to create,
Or is it our own inability to stay centered and connected to why we started here in the first place.
Is it our own obsession to treating
like every other social media because we’ve been programmed for years into consumption, creation and hustle culture?Is it our own overwhelm of the unknown and putting it all in the “too hard” basket, rather than learning a new skill.
Is it the focus on subscribers and metrics that has you feeling inadequate… Or is that feeling showing up elsewhere in your life? Is it a theme? Is it easier to point as say “It’s that” rather than possibly, turn the finger around and whisper…"Maybe it’s me?” (Or both?)
Is it Substack that makes us compare ourselves,
Or do we use Substack as a tool to pick ourselves apart?
If Substack didn’t exist, wouldn’t we just channel the self criticism through the next online platform as our channel of choice?
Is it social media?
Or is it our inability to admit that we are actually a part of that exact social media culture.
That we are choosing to play in these spaces.
That we
Make
The
Culture.
Is it disingenuous for others to paywall and ask for money for their work on social media,
Or
Do we feel heroic
At the fact that
We don’t do that.
Therefore,
We must … be better? *Insert question mark*
Stay curious.
Sit in the discomfort with me.
Is it really all too much, is there really not enough to go around, or are we just really loyal to our identities of not feeling heard, acknowledged and seen. Are we repeating patterns of how we have felt… our entire lives?
Are we being too loyal to societal concepts that we have adopted to whisper to us that we aren’t enough as we are.
The self storytelling of
“I don’t have time.”
“People like me don’t make it”
“well, they don’t have kids/ job/ same responsibilities”
Have we surrendered to this feeling of not enough, so that it’s easier to stay cynical.
Then make sure others agree with us and feel that way too so we don’t feel alone in our not enough-ness. In the overwhelm?
Do you think… perhaps, there is space to rise in optimism?
That’s what we are here for?
Right?
To have a better experience.
To feel connected to our writing and work.
To connect to others who “get it”.
To enjoy conversations with readers.
To sit in a big vintage chair in our virtual library here and allow our own minds and spirits to expand?
To honour and explore our creative process.
To share work, we feel proud of?
To feel connected in this big wide world.
If we are willing to make the huge effort to vent about these spaces, vent about never being seen or featured after writing here for 3 months,
or refuse to admit the fact that
’s latest “sorry I’m late letter” was in fact the best thing ever. (Reminder: After years and years of refining her craft, moving through her own crisis of confidence, and doing the inner work to share, network, and express as she does)If we are willing to actively avoid notes to take a stand and start a rebellion against the social aspect of social media….
If we are willing to write entire posts on why it’s NOT working, what’s wrong with everything, and why social media hates us *though we still find ourselves running back to it like an ex lover and never just leave**
Then why not do the work to take that same effort, and redirect it?
To do the work to create a more fulfilling relationship with the space?
Why not pivot, learn, relearn?
Why not challenge the identities we’ve subscribed to and challenge ourselves to get better?
To stay curious, stay open?
Why don’t we lean in and let ourselves enjoy ourselves in the parts that can make us uncomfortable.
What if we do the work to stay centered.
To maintain a holistic perspective.
Connected to why we arrived here in the first place.
Connected to our creative tap?
Connected to what we want to create.
What if we voted on the platform culture we WANT to create rather than run from.
(That looks like restack what you love, recommend those you love, get amongst opportunities to share yourself and others publicly)
If we are going to do the work anyway,
Why wouldn’t we participate in a culture of optimism, celebration and creativity.
Take time truly networking with others just like us,
Rather than comparison, nitpicking, and demonizing the ones who also really show up?
Why wouldn’t we co-create a culture of lightness and fun,
In a world that can feel so damn serious.
Of course a company like is going to aim to grow as a business.
Of course a platform is going to evolve and change over time.
Of course new features are going to arrive.
Of course, these things won’t tick every box every person has.
Of course you could get amongst the comment sections and beg them not to change.
You could also leave if you wanted to.
Or
You could
Learn to ride the wave.
You could learn and connect with those using features to thrive.
Your self doubt could continue to work overtime,
Or your follow-through could develop the same level of creativity.
You could flood yourself with exposure therapy of those doing it well, get in proximity and learn from them.
Look,
Most of this is said in with mild jest.
Of course there is an element of a “check yo’self” undertone.
I’m not saying you have to be perfect,
Or that Substack is perfect.
I’m not saying there isn’t space to request improvement,
Or to explore what truly sits right with you or doesn’t.
What I am saying, is that, if you choose to be here,
But you are more focused on being apart of the cancel culture of social media/ Substack…
You will inadvertently cancel yourself and your own potential in this space.
If you’re focus is where everything isn’t working rather than hyper focused on where it is…
Then don’t expect opportunity to run and jump on your lap and snuggle in for story time (can you tell I’m a mum?)
Our experiences here are external and are fuelled by the internal.
We have to learn to embody what it means to truly do the inner work and build a career in a space like this- if that’s our intention.
There is, absolutely, without a doubt- room for you. Room for everyone.
There is, absolutely, without a doubt, more than enough free resources and education to grow, expand and thrive here. Take a look at
, , and more.There is, absolutely, without a doubt, support for you to grow your skills as a writer and creative.
There is, absolutely, without a doubt - a long term vision here where you can grow slowly and sustainably and experience thriving if you stay in your center. Which is really, really healthy.
There are, absolutely- without a doubt, others just like you who are eager to connect with someone, just like you, here on Substack, and if there is one, then there are many.
Check yourself - with love.
How long have you been truly showing up here for?
How many years have you been establishing trust and nourishing a community for?
How have you skill developed and altered the way you do things to suit the platform you’re on?
How long have you been networking with others in the field?
Do you expect those on Substack to immediately hold you in your vulnerability before offering your own support elsewhere?
Do you know clearly who you’re writing for?
Are you throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what will stick?
Are you approaching the space seriously, playfully, as a business, as a blog. No right or wrong but it’s helpful to be clear.
Are you doing the inner work to grow as a writer/ creative so that you have more capacity for the long game?
Are you reminding yourself of the magic here? A post you write now, may be the one to change the game for you a year from now. You never truly know.
Just questions I ask myself, and invite you to do the same.
Come play.
If you liked this, Share it.
Love Kat.
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An invite to our LIVE ZOOM QNA, 7TH DECEMBER
Thanks for addressing this, definitely something I have been thinking through and working on a piece about — (media in general). While I am not frustrated with Substack specifically, I have a different perspective. I am not in alignment with spending so much time on *any* app. Scrolling. Building. Numbers. Etc.
I think there is a deeper issue: our relationship to media and tech. I think the whole concept of influencers and virality has shifted, even.
Deep down we really just want something real, and to be real ourselves, and to feel authenticity. When it becomes about growth and being seen there’s a bit of a disconnect, even though we are all trying to grow and be seen.
After being here a couple of months, I realized growth on any platform isn’t much different, even here in Substack.
“Show up, post consistently, participate in the community.”
Is the community here better? Yes! The content? So much more meaningful. Format is perfect, (minus notes).
But I think the bigger, more spiritual issue is that we’re overloaded with content, and we’re addicted to tech (and our phones).
Because of that I am willing to gain 1 subscriber a year on Substack if it means I don’t have to be glued to an application, and can create straight from my heart 💕
Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been writing for 9 months now and have had to remember the invisible work behind others’ success, that collaboration is better than competition, and that I’m ultimately doing this for me so it doesn’t really matter how long any of this takes anyway. I’m writing for the audience I want, even if that’s not yet the audience I have.
Existing in online spaces feels difficult, but ultimately it’s not the tools fault, it’s the way we use them