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It’s a fairly standard experience on Substack (or any social media platform, really) to see notes or articles on how to “grow your following” or “improve your free to paid subscriber conversion rate”. There’s a definite focus on hacking the algorithm, on monetizing in the best possible way; the emphasis of these posts is on the business side of the platform, not the artistic side.
I understand that these methods are tried and tested, and that when working with an algorithm, they often bring some measure of success. I’m not critiquing anyone who engages with these methods; I’m more so pissed that I’m being made feel like I have to do this or that to draw an audience. I’m annoyed that I can’t just write what I want to write without feeling this constant, dull pressure. Everything has to be a numbers game. It has to be a competition. Your work has to be standardized, cornered into a niche, and you can never deviate or pivot or you risk losing followers.
That isn’t art, to me. That’s content production. That’s capitalism—a soulless, profit/growth-oriented focus on quantity over quality. There’s no freedom of self-expression, no room for experimentation or error.
I can’t bring myself to do it, quite honestly. I’ll do some things, like posting on a schedule, because I can appreciate consistency. But I won’t reduce my writing to a box whose label never changes.
When I see these posts about optimization, I’m reminded of a video I saw on how to make passive income by creating Youtube channels that pump out several videos per day. Everything on these channels, from the script to the voice-over to the video footage, is amassed and put together by AI. All the hopeful money-maker has to do is put forth a little initial effort, then sit back and watch the views roll in.
I’ve spoken already about artificial intelligence and the risk I believe it poses to art. My critique here is more about its place within the larger capitalist hellscape we inhabit. Our society, particularly on digital platforms, has fallen further and further into a cartoonish rat race of content. Optimize this and hack that, tweet this many times a day, use AI to increase your production speed.
Is everyone just throwing slop into a void where no one’s listening? AI-manufactured videos clog up Youtube. Bots are chatting with one another in comments on Twitter and Facebook. The internet inches ever closer to a wasteland devoid of authentic human life, and it is, quite frankly, demoralizing. Websites are becoming less usable, less enjoyable, and less genuine—for what? Ad revenue? A little profit?
I’ve gotten off a lot of social media for this reason, but I’ve kept some. I still watch the Youtubers I enjoy. I’ve joined Bluesky to connect with agents and authors. I enjoy Substack because, amid the noise, I’m still finding raw, genuine pieces of art here. There’s glimmers of hope amid countless posts about optimizing your Notes strategy.
We’re producing at warp speed—but what about consumption? When I look there, I see the same influences at work. Speed-reading, consuming hundreds of books a year, reading AI summaries of articles and books instead of reading articles and books, etc. We condense, we listen at 2-3x speed. We consume, and consume, and consume, but we don’t savor. We suck a source of entertainment dry and then we toss it aside and pounce on the next one.
Look—I really don’t care what you do in your free time. If you like trying to read 300+ books in a year, go for it. All I’m asking is that we think critically about the pace at which we operate, and why. Are the things you're doing bringing you genuine joy? Or are they just giving you the temporary rush of checking things off a list? Do you feel energized, or just adequately numbed? Our society tells us to do things faster. It tells us to do more. We’re afraid to be alone with our thoughts, so we fill any silence with television, movies, books, TikToks, reels—any form of engagement that keeps our brains occupied and our dopamine loops fried.
I’m tired of it. My brain has had enough. I’ve taken a lot of slow, simple steps over the past few years to reduce the noise. I removed TikTok from my phone, then Instagram. Recently, I’ve been going for walks without music or podcasts. I savor quiet. I pursue peace. I watch less television, and when I do, I only watch shows I really like (currently loving season two of The Last of Us!). All of this has done wonders for my mental health.
It wasn’t easy, at first. I had to sit with a lot of discomfort. But therapy and journaling helped me see and begin to address problems with myself that I was avoiding through overconsumption. I’m slower now, more intentional, but I still have to catch myself every so often. I have to pull myself out of the content rat race from time to time. I have to ask myself if the stats I worry about on Substack are helping me in any way. Are they making me more focused? Or are factors beyond my control stressing me out unnecessarily?
Maybe it seems strange to talk about slowing down during a month when I’ve focused on writing speed. But I’ve emphasized repeatedly that nobody needs to write faster. Personally, I’m using tools like writing sprints to get past my inner censor, to get words on the page, because otherwise I’d critique myself so harshly that I’d never write at all. I’m loosening up through free-writing so I can make art—but I’m also reducing the noise in other parts of my life so I have the time, energy, and space to create.
I don’t blame anyone for getting sucked into the rat race. It’s designed to do that. Our attention has been stolen from us by corporations through the very design of social media. It takes focused effort, and discomfort, to break free from the loop. But reclaiming your mental health and attention span is worth it. I promise.
See you next Sunday,
Allie
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