It took less than a month of using Substack Notes to completely wear me out. First, came the strategy posts selling surefire steps for gaining endless subscribers on the road to monetization glory. Then came the subscriber count broadcasts—the newly (self-)crowned influencers thanking their many followers with gushing faux humility for helping them reach their goals faster than they ever thought possible! Finally, and most upsetting, were the sad posts from people begging for attention, lamenting their low subscriber numbers and painful lack of post engagement.
Posts addressed to the algorithm are the latest development, on Substack and elsewhere on social media. Dear Algorithm, please show me content based on my interests. Dear Algorithm, please stop feeding me posts from just the popular accounts. Dear Algorithm, connect me with indie artists with something to say (like me!)—people who are here for more than just likes and follows. Dear Algorithm, take me back to the good old days of Substack when finding a community was possible!
And I get it. Everyone who posts on Substack wants some level of attention, present company included, and it’s human nature to seek connection. Otherwise, we’d all just write in our private journals and be satisfied.
But like it or not, Substack is a social media business. It’s not an artist colony or a community center. Its only goals are profit and sustainability, and it’s following the classic social media model to achieve them. Step one, gain a huge following by promising boundless opportunities to connect, build community, and monetize in new and easier ways. Step two, gather data on user behavior. Measure what they pay attention to and for how long. Step three, gradually replace the content you used to see (from friends new and old) with the content they want you to see (ads, subscription offers, whatever they’ve determined will make them money). Step four, adjust algorithms as needed to increase user attention and maximize profits while continuing to push the original brand identity. It’s the old social media rope-a-dope.
Instagram, Twitter, even Facebook, were all exciting and cool places to be at first. You could meet new people, connect with existing friends, and everything they posted would show up in your feed. Then they started throttling posts from your friends and replacing them with ads and posts from celebrity accounts, all with the goal of monetizing your attention.
Substack is doing the same thing. The only difference is that Substack doesn’t sell ads. Or does it? Every other post in my Notes feed looks to me like a direct or thinly veiled plea for subscribers, and Substack takes a cut of all paid subscriber fees, so while they may not be ads in the traditional sense, they have the same persuasive aim.
If your goal is to use social media to sell (or buy) something, have at it, and I wish you luck. If you’re expecting genuine connection and a sense of community—if you’re expecting to be fed content that resonates with your values and interests, I’m sorry, but forget it.
Building a community takes work. Discovering exciting new art requires action. You have to look for it. It won’t come to you, despite what so many online platforms try to sell you. Take Spotify, for example. It analyzes the sounds in the music you listen to and serves up more songs containing combinations of those same sounds. That’s not discovery. It’s the opposite of discovery; it’s more of the same.
Discovery is taking a book or music recommendation from a friend, hearing what they appreciated about it, and having it resonate with you in a similar way. Discovery is tracking down a favorites list created by an artist or publication you respect and taking the time to give their recommendations a try. Whether in person or from a distance, discovery requires some level of actual human interaction. It may be harder than ever to achieve on the internet, but it’s still possible with effort.
Don’t expect it to be delivered to your screen on the wings of a social media algorithm.