Substack is ruining my life

On being performative, the writer's status, and an obsession with numbers.

Oct 04, 2025

In the few months I’ve spent on Substack, I’ve read more opinion pieces than probably in all my years before joining. Those include opinions on creativity, originality, anti-intellectualism, the aesthetic phenomenon, and so. many. pieces. about. Sabrina. Carpenter. (And now also Taylor Swift).

Discovering a space full of people who have so much to say about so many things has been… interesting. Also, overwhelming as hell. As inquisitive as I am by nature, my nervous system can be somewhat frail, and my confidence levels are rarely stable for long. I’m also highly suggestible, so if I happen to come across someone’s piece on the evils of a slow life or the pretentiousness of Taylor Swift’s engagement announcement, the author will likely have me convinced by the time I’m done reading.

That’s not to accuse myself of a lack of critical judgment or the inability to think for myself. There are few things I enjoy more than disagreeing with others. It’s just that I take the business of questioning myself a bit too seriously. I mean, yes, I’m riddled with self-doubt. But at least I’m also convinced that everyone else is smarter than I.1

With that in mind, no wonder some areas of my personality and day-to-day life have taken a hit since I joined this meadow of collective consciousness — Substack. Before, I thought I knew enough to know how I wanted to live my life. Now, I don’t know if I know enough to know. In the sea of other people’s identities, my own is losing its shape.

Let’s take a look at the damage, then.

1. The evils of performative reading

Books and I go all the way back to my childhood years. It’s true for all of you here, I get it, I’m not special. These days, though, whenever I pull a book out of my bag while on the commute, I give far too much thought to whether or not it is performative of me. All thanks to some mentions of performative reading on Substack, which I had never even thought about before.

I mean, have I ever felt good about myself reading on the tram on my way to the email factory? Occasionally. I’m only human.

Have I ever pulled out a book in a public place to make sure I’m seen reading? To make an impression, or to appear anything to anyone? No ma’am. I read because I want to, or in more rare instances, because I have to.

The truth is, it’s not up to me if I’m reading performatively. That’s decided the second someone sees me reading and goes, “Who the hell does she think she is?” The intention behind my reading is never to give a performance, but whether it’s seen as performative by others is out of my hands, and so it should be out of my mind, too. After all, there are worse things in life than reading a book just for show.

2. My writing and my identity as a writer

It’s 2025, and after years of silencing myself, I start a self-hosted blog, then discover Substack exists. A platform for reading- and writing-oriented people? Happy days. I’m looking forward to rediscovering my voice, excited to be able to call myself a writer and share my work with others.

Except, Substack has been around for years, and by the time I find my way here, notes and titles are popping up left, right and center, telling me that writing about writing is cliche, using “The Art of…” as a title is unoriginal, the em dash is synonymous with ChatGPT, and everyone’s tired of everyone’s think pieces.

I mean, gee. I just got here.

Already, certain creative freedoms are being taken away from me because I wasn’t born five centuries ago, before everything had already been said by someone else, or because I wasn’t around in the good old days of Substack before its novelty wore off. The well of original ideas has dried out, being a writer these days is no big deal, and calling yourself one? Please. You’re embarrassing yourself.

That’s the narrative I’ve been exposed to since my first days here. Okay then. Let’s all collectively quit our artistic pursuits and go do something useful with ourselves. No? Then please let’s quit bitching about each other’s writing and focus on our own writing instead.

3. Fucking stats

I’m worried about me. I haven’t had an obsession with metrics this serious since my high school days (I’m 28). I was happy (and a little bit proud of myself) when my social media time reduced to about an hour a day. But that was in my pre-Substack era, and I’m discovering that collecting likes on Instagram has never meant half as much to me as it means here on Substack.

I’ve had (and I’m still having) a slow start on the platform, so in my desire to learn how to succeed at Substack, I’ve been studying those who already have. And here’s my conclusion: unless it’s a post that is lucky to go viral, for every thousand subscribers, there are about a dozen likes to a post. This is very, very upsetting math for someone whose desire for external validation has led them to equate the reactions to their work with its value — aka me. I have 59 subscribers, and one of them is my sister. And she only subscribed to me so I don’t think she doesn’t love me.2 I get three likes to a long-form piece on average. And one of them is probably accidental.

Seeing popular Substackers telling their readers to just forget about stats and write for the sake of writing isn’t as helpful as I wish it was. (Easy for them to say as they sit on their high horse of recognition and admiration). I do it anyway, though, because I know they’re right and because I want to rid my brain of this rotten obsession with stats. It’s simply not good for me. Plus, stats already run my full-time corporate job — do I really want them to fuck with my creative life as well? I write because I love doing it. Even when I hate doing it, I still love doing it. I also think I’m not terrible at it most of the time, and I’ll get better if I just keep at it.

Bottom line, here is this quote from Luciana, one of those popular Substackers I mentioned earlier:

A writer should only have to focus on their craft, not on their audience.

I’ll leave it at that.

What I’m trying to say with this is, Substack is great, but it’s becoming a case of too much of a good thing. Let’s stop pretending it’s not social media, because it is. It just wears smarter glasses. And like any other social media, it should be taken in moderate doses. Lest you wake up one day and realize that your identity is also lost in the sea of opinions and think pieces, I suggest we all take everything, and I mean everything we read here, with a grain of salt.

The roots of these beliefs are yet to be discovered.

Marie, if you’re reading this, I’m kidding. I know you value my work.