Writing for an audience
Does this count as writing or just overthinking?
There comes a time in every Substack writer’s life when they start becoming conscious of their work. This might be due to one successful post or just getting subscribers who are not also their friends. Suddenly, they start thinking of their brand definition who their ideal persona is, what their topics of interest are, and how it compares to the writer’s interests. Does it fit in with their brand? Are they pushing the boundaries of their skills? Are they too basic? Are they cool? Are they writing viral pieces or duds, dead on arrival? Are they pushing the boundaries of writing? Are they writing too often? Not often enough?
Is the distribution plan aggressive or too meek? Does it fit in with the writer’s persona that there exists a distribution plan? Shouldn’t they be above a distribution plan? Shouldn’t they be more focused on the writing? Are they even a writer only if they’re thinking in terms of their readership?
For a personal substack that purports itself to be about being in the weeds of life, it can be quite difficult to figure out the zoom on the lens and what zoom level is discerning and what is just…me waffling on for words at length about something inconsequential. Does anyone really care about what I think about Bridgerton season three part two? Or my feelings about the layouts of apartments in big Indian cities?
“Write what you know” is advice given frequently to writers but it can be super limiting and too individualistic after a point, frankly. Me me me me me me all the time as though my point of view is so fascinating and worthy of the pixels on screen. Why yes, Substack, I hope you make way more than $29M in 2024 so I can continue attempting to plumb the depths of my feelings to churn out pieces about book mourning or a full mind.
When one can write about anything, why does one write about themselves? Well, it’s because it’s easy and I gave myself a target of writing a piece at least once a week which leaves out everything but the broad “personal essay” category. And two, I hope to understand myself as I write and I also hope that my attempts to do so come across as endearingly charming and not lunatic. But personal essays work best when they’re specific yet broadly relatable. With general topics already overdone, you’re left daring to be as vulnerable as possible which is, you know, a piece of cake for most people who don’t use pop culture to make sense of the world around them.
But it means so little because it always feels like you’re shouting into the void in your own corner of the Internet and there are sometimes echoes of others shouting along with you. Your small joys (Nicola Coughlan in a Doctor Who episode!!), your sadnesses (the writers must have really hated Jung-Hwan to mess with us like they did in Reply 1988), your mixed feelings (Since Netflix has already paid money for Seinfeld, do you feel comfortable watching it even though you don’t like Kramer or Jerry anymore?) and your outrage (why is it so hard to buy cute activewear with pockets in it??). Your Substack is not blowing up so you tell yourself that it’s because you don’t try and you could if you wanted to.
All you have is ChatGPT in your corner and a you-should-do-it-for-yourself attitude because really, when the words come to your fingers, your mind kind of zooms into just trains of thought and for a while, the world becomes all the more interesting, even if you’re not writing gangbusters or Fleabag or Pride and Prejudice, because of how you’ve arranged words and sentences in a way that feels like a song tripping from one thought to the next. Well, until you hit “Publish” that is.
Maybe it’s because I’m a milennial and the only way we know to be on the Internet is to be ourselves and hope the world validates our existence. If this Substack is not a monument to my writing and marketing skills, do I have any value?
What really matters is that I keep writing, because without it, I wouldn’t even have this existential crisis to write about. And who am I really, without an existential crisis? Thanks for reading my void-shout.
Much relate!
Loved this essay, Aishwarya! Came here via your activewear-without-pockets issue, and there's a call back (or call forward?) to that here too. Very cool.
I could relate to a lot of what you say about writing 'personal essays' on Substack (a friend of mine recently called it naval-gazing). A 'do i really need to talk about myself again' reluctance is usually subdued by the 'writing something is better than not writing all' argument. But I'm not sure if that's always the right thing to do.