My Thoughts on Getting Paid on Substack
Why this monkey dances a little less these days
I’ve gotten a few messages from a few of you in recent months complaining about the cost of subscribing to my Substack (or, more precisely, the cost of subscribing to the many different Substack newsletters you want to read). I hate talking about money but after thinking about it for a few weeks, I thought maybe it would helpful to chat about this. This is a public post and the comments are open, so feel free to chime in with your thoughts. I always want to hear where you are on these things.
For longtime readers of Sayable, where everything was free to read, it’s been communicated to me that the change to paid subscriptions felt a bit jarring, as thought your years of loyalty weren’t being rewarded but punished by now having to pay to read.
I can see how it might feel that way, but I wonder if it could be considered that my years of work on Sayable now have a somewhat commensurate amount of reward? It’s still far, far, far below minimum wage, barely a few cents per post, but for me, it’s the thought that counts. The few dollars you send my way says, “Hey, I think your work is worth more than nothing and here’s my way of saying it with my actions.”
Next, freelance writing has never been a particularly lucrative career. Even bigger websites who make bank on the backs of writers like me, still pay what amounts to less than 5-10 pennies per word (for a 1000 word article, that’s about $100). For the amount of work that goes into research, queries or pitches, emails with editors, the actual writing and editing process, sharing the links afterwards, and engaging with comment sections, the writer is barely getting paid anything.
We wouldn’t ask this of a plumber or a lawyer or a bank teller or a teacher or an IT specialist, why do we ask it of writers?
What it communicates is that writing isn’t a real job, it’s a side job or a passion project or only for starving artists.
If we want writers to do good, true, and beautiful work, we ought to want to pay them a living wage to do so.
If, however, someone who is writing is not doing the good, true, and beautiful work you want to see more of in the world, you don’t have to support them. (I’m convinced that the Internet has actually watered down the existence of good, true, and beautiful work because it’s so easy to produce mediocre, wishy-washy, and lackluster work.)
Okay, to my Substack in particular, a few things.
You do not have to pay to read me. There are thousands of other thinkers and writers saying wonderful things to whom you can give your hard-earned cash. Or not. It’s up to you.
If you are unable to pay to read me, I’ve said since the beginning you can simply email me and communicate this and I’ll comp you a paid subscription, no questions asked.
If you do choose to pay to read me, here’s what your money is going toward:
It’s going to help me give more complimentary subscriptions to those who cannot afford to pay.
It’s going toward the very real time I spend making this newsletter what it is. I put a lot of time and thought into my pieces here, and a lot of time and thought into how I communicate about my pieces here.
It’s helping to support our family. Writing is my occupation, Substack writing is a part of how I help support our family, book writing is another part—albeit a longer, slower process.
The writing life these days is a lot of hustle and hustle has never been the preferred life of a writer. Getting paid a few dollars a month from my readers on Substack helps me hustle a lot less. Significantly less. Markedly less. I cannot communicate to you how much less hustle I’ve had to do since beginning paid subscriptions. This means my writing is better, more contemplative, more meditative, less hungry for clicks and shares. The difference in my spirit cannot be overestimated.
I have loathed the relationship between social media platforms/algorithms and writing as vocation for years and made no secret about it. But having a paid option for Sayable has freed me from social media in ways I couldn’t have imagined even a year ago. Yeah, sure, the likes and shares and shiny things are very nice over there, they feel good to see, but they feel awful to have to keep churning out.
Having a paid Substack has allowed me to delete my personal Facebook profile and just keep an author page up, which I passively share links to with an IFTT app. It has allowed me to opt out of Twitter entirely and to give a somewhat mediocre attention to Substack Notes or Instagram Threads, and it’s enabled me (most of all) to treat Instagram like the original photo sharing app it was designed to be and mostly stop with the micro-blogging.
My numbers absolutely suck over on all those platforms. I’m absolutely stalled out on all of them and I absolutely don’t give a lick about it. I feel done with algorithms and sharing frenzies and humble brags and like numbers and emoji engagements. That is hustle, that’s all it ever was for me. It was exhausting and distracting and contributed nothing truly good to my writing.
This, though? Getting to write longer form pieces and unpack ideas more extensively and having space for beauty and the nuance of truth and the complexity of goodness? Count me in. I’ve always been in. Since 2001, I’ve been writing essays online and it’s always been my favorite writing medium and I can’t believe I get to still do it and so many of you are willing to pay what amounts to some pennies week for it.
You’re not paying me what my work is worth, not even close, and I don’t ask you to. No, your commitment to a subscription says to me that you affirm my decision to opt out of hustle and algorithms and all of it. Consider it like a friendly hat tip as we pass one another on the road, or a pay it forward in the Starbucks drive-thru, or a few dollars in the tip jar at your favorite cafe. It’s not enough to live on, but it’s enough to say, “I see you and I value you and I want you to keep on keeping on.”
You’re not paying for the privilege of reading my illustrious words and copious verbiage and smart and intellectual wisdom (because, let’s face it, I can’t promise that to you). You’re paying so I can opt out of hustle culture and that’s good for all of us. That’s how I see it and I thought it would be good to communicate that.
What do you think? Let me know in the comments.
Do you think Substack is just another social media algorithm waiting to happen?
Do you see the subscription mode as elitism? Why or why not?
Do you struggle with limiting the Substacks you get to read because of the paywalls? ( Emily P. Freeman had a great piece on this last week)
Is there work you do that you feel should be acknowledged with a tip and isn’t?
I just read this post from Substack from a few years ago on the algorithm, etc. Love the points they're making here. https://on.substack.com/p/why-we-have-a-leaderboard
I have no problem paying a little to get more content from an author I enjoy reading. As it is, time is so limited, does anyone really have the time to read posts from 20 different substacks a day? Having to pay just causes you to be more discerning about what you spend your time reading.