Is the Influx of Positivity on Substack Warranted?

People are excited but others, not so much.

Disclaimer: I’m writing about Substack from a reader’s perspective and understand that my scope and understanding of the platform's shortcomings is limited, especially when it comes to being a frequent and longtime writer on here. 

Every week, Substack breaks further into public consciousness with a new celebrity-launched newsletter and an increasingly growing gaggle of giddy writers professing their love for the app from the rooftops, perhaps overlooking some of the issues that have plagued some longtime writers on here. There’s been some contention as to whether the excitement and overall positive sentiment, although delusional as some have put it and even delirious, should be encouraged or tempered, but I believe, at the very least, it should be examined. 

There’s been a blooming of new accounts and a sudden wellspring of goodwill throughout the platform. I’ve seen people congratulating folks on their first posts, reposting and highlighting writing from every corner of the app, regardless of status or subscriber count. Some might find the positivity nauseating and eerily parochial, but I’ve found it interesting to see a group of humans so gushy and palpably excited about a social media platform at a time when their malicious intent to hijack your brain and overall predatory nature has soured their public perception so that more and more people are abstaining from them. 

Why So Happy? 

The excitement seems to stem from the surprising realization that the written word still carries weight and that social media doesn’t need to exist as it does: entirely dominated by the short-form video of Instagram and TikTok, with the dopamine crash from the nauseating context-switching, and just overall sickly feeling you get when you see your fellow humans posturing and chasing the dragon of virality by worshipping an algorithm that entices them to dance to the same music, use the same video formats and create with a focus on exposure as opposed to expression. This doom loop of redundant and algorithmic-induced content seems inevitable and a byproduct of a platform achieving critical mass, and while Substack is being celebrated for not being there quite yet, it is well on its way.

People are also rejoicing and welcoming the change of pace that comes with consuming and engaging with work on here. There’s a narrowing of focus inherent to reading that calls for more intentionality and a slowing down that is at odds with an online environment trying so desperately to program you to do the opposite. It’s much harder to passively read a three-thousand-word essay than swipe your finger to move on to the next fifteen-second video of the best cheap places to eat while in New York. One requires the turning off of the mind, while the other calls for the activating of it, a key distinction some have made.

Ultimately, people are simply enjoying themselves on here, something we’ve all forgotten we should be doing when creating and consuming. This moment on Substack got me thinking about how few options there are and how a bigger problem with these social media juggernauts and their malignant algorithms and outright exploitation of human behavior is that it often feels like there’s nowhere else to go—especially if you enjoy reading and writing. 

The Medium of The Moment

At a time when we crave as much sensory information as possible, short-form video is the medium of the moment, and participating and engaging with the platforms that provide this content has become a de facto way of life. In a very short time, these video-heavy applications like TikTok, Instagram, and even Youtube, to an extent, have become like the Big Three major broadcasting networks (ABC, NBC, and CBS) of the late seventies, who had such a stranglehold on the population one couldn’t help but feel forced to watch one or the either or else risk yourself being the uncultured weirdo unable to contribute to basic watercolor conversations at work.

We’ve been forced into a position where we engage with these platforms almost begrudgingly, putting our innate human need for belonging and community over our well-being in a perpetual and toxic relationship. Yes, it is ultimately our choice to remain on these applications, but how much of a choice is it if these are the most viable ways of communicating with your fellow humans in a substantial way? For a while, much like being on Facebook several years ago, my being on Instagram was chiefly to let other people know I existed, but even in trying to remain on the perimeter of the beast, occasionally checking in on what my friends were up to, I’d somehow get sucked into a disorienting whirlpool of Explore pages, targeted ads and Shopify-powered dropshipping schemes. It was way too frequent that I’d find myself in the throes of a shitstorm of content that I did not want to see, did not ask for, and made me feel like shit simply because I wanted to be where the rest of my fellow humans were. 

Lonely & Underserved 

Where does this leave people who prefer stimulation from different sources? As someone who prefers reading and writing to visual stimulation nine out of ten times, it’s a lonely and displacing feeling to know how low the art from your spirit connects to the most ranks on society’s cultural hierarchy of attention. Yes, writing has been out of favor for decades, both as a vocation and as a consumer item, but not having a few, if any, robust social networks dedicated to serving people who enjoy it and even prefer it doesn’t feel right. Sure, there are some platforms out there, Medium, Vocal, Tumblr, and others (I’m leaving out Reddit because the conversation is the point, not the writing itself), but none of them have been able to figure out how to present writing as everything it can be—art, informative, entertaining, enlightening, short-form, long-form, fiction, nonfiction—while also providing the interconnectedness of certain features like an ongoing and time-sensitive “newsfeed”, likes and direct messaging, all touchstones of modern social media since the Myspace and Facebook days. While there are options, they simply are not social enough to serve as viable alternatives to the social media behemoths of Instagram and TikTok. 

Seeing the outpour of excitement and giddiness on Substack, regardless of your stance on it, indicates a social media landscape that has neglected a large, word-loving swathe of the population. People have spoken of replacing their doomscrolling on other apps with reading on Substack and how they feel better for it. Others have expressed how they’ve been pleasantly surprised by the generally good-natured and supportive vibe on here, which compounds on itself so that every other note you see is a Substack love letter. While some of this exuberance might be overstated, it is not unwarranted.

I’ve seen writers so blown aback and appreciative of having even a handful of subscribers or likes on a post. It’s touching to see a group of people so genuinely appreciative of having their work receive any engagement at all, a sign of how deprived writers have been of this basic level of social interaction online that’s been available on so many other platforms for so long. Writers don’t need much, but they need something. Yes, Substack’s been around for years, but the additions of Notes and direct messaging turned it into a true social platform that’s attracted a slew of voices across ages, cultures, and disciplines that have made this a place ripe with opinions, projects, and conversations that are necessary and long overdue—a far cry from a few years ago when the app was significantly less accessible to the average person and seemed like a disjointed wasteland of disaffected journalists and writers laid off by legacy media during the pandemic.  

More of the Same

Substack is not the savior of anything. Not of writing, not of you, me, or anyone else. It’s ultimately a money-making machine like the rest of them, with strategies and schemes to hold your attention as long as possible. If my putting Substack on a pedestal is all that's taken away from this, I’ve been misunderstood. My only argument is that it is a social media platform with an emphasis on the totality of writing that’s become an alternative space for an underserved group of people to enjoyable spend their time.

It’s not all Notes and games, and I understand that. Writers have talked of readers horridly misconstruing their writing or offering unsolicited and condescending writing advice and, of course, the blatant trolling that comes with making yourself and your opinion known on the internet. There’s the issue of content moderation and how Substack is becoming a haven for blatantly harmful rhetoric within the deep and dark pockets of the space. There’s already a sea of homogenized essays on topics like writing, girlhood, film criticism, and Substack—hello!—the nuance between them dwindling by the day. Lastly, there’s still the issue of metrics, public subscriber counts, and chasing virality that can lead to eventual disillusionment and toxic comparison that’s become such a rampant problem on all social media platforms, and this one is no exception. 

These are all valid issues that need addressing. It is obvious how the newfound overzealousness can overshadow these faults and eventually become problematic. Is it possible for a new writer or reader on here to profess their excitement while also acknowledging the website’s shortcomings? They simply haven’t been around long enough to see, witness, or fully understand them. For the people who have a gripe with the constant influx of overwhelming positivity on Notes and elsewhere, what would you rather have people do, be quiet? Is this just an unavoidable honeymoon phase that comes with a growing platform that must be endured by those who’ve already grown tired and jaded by being here for so long? I’m curious. There’s a balance, and I don’t know what it is. 

Justified? You Tell Me

The discourse around positivity on here reminds me of being a burnt-out college senior, baggy-eyed and tired, dragging myself through the library halls only to see a group of giggly freshman laughing and having a ball, seemingly rubbing their enjoyment in my dehydrated face. I wanted to so badly say, “Hey, tone it down. Can’t you see anyone who’s been here longer than five minutes isn’t having fun at all?” While it was true, and it would have felt great to vocalize and express my alternative experience, it would have also robbed them of not only the joy that comes with the discovery of a place brimming with potential but, more importantly, robbing them of the eventual realization that this place wasn’t everything they initially thought. 

There’s something about discovery, especially if it leads to self-discovery, which so many are finding on this platform that is cool to see. Still, the viewpoint of the realist and the cynic who advises, warns and states the potential pitfalls and reminds people that the path is not solely a rosy, fun-filled affair is also necessary. We need both. As I write this, I can’t help but be amused at how positivity became a point of contention here, which says a lot, considering other problems a platform like this could have.

Are people a little overzealous? Yes. Should they be? I think so. The world is opening up here for writers and readers alike. Communities are being built, careers are being launched and even saved, books are being published, book clubs are being organized, magazines are being created, readings are taking place, and these are all exciting prospects for a group of people that have been devoid of any for so long. This continued mainstream breakthrough will bring in even more users, adding to this ever-growing buzz. It will invite even more people, keep some here, and drive others away. My only hope is that this moment of positivity will provide the pathway for the next Substack to be made so that when Kim Kardashian eventually launches her bookclub on here or when your mother and her friends catch wind of your newsletter and begin to comment and address the revisionist history filling your essays on childhood trauma, there will be a young, new website waiting in the wings for us to get excited about. Until then, I know I write this at the risk of sounding like a Substack blowhard, but it’s refreshing to see people having a good time on the internet, especially those who need it the most: your fellow writer and reader.