Yes, I could read every one of the headlines that caught my attention for any number of reasons. But instead, I’ll focus on one or two especially interesting ones.
Apparently, this is the Summer of Substack. Not to be confused with the Summer of Love. Not even close.
Over the past few years, Substack has been slowly building a literary scene, one in which amateurs, relative unknowns, and Pulitzer Prize-winning writers rub shoulders with one another. This spring, a series of writers — perhaps best known for their Substacks — released new fiction, leading to a burst of publicity that the critic, novelist, and Substacker Naomi Kanakia has declared “Substack summer.”
Wow! Guess I didn’t get the memo. What’s new? :)
“Is the Next Great American Novel Being Published on Substack?” asked the New Yorker in May. Substack “has become the premier destination for literary types’ unpublished musings,” announced Vulture. [Blogger’s note: the link has a paywall, so you’ll have to trust
methem on what it says.]Can Substack move sales like BookTok can? No. But it’s doing something that, for a certain set, is almost more valuable. It’s giving a shot of vitality to a faltering book media ecosystem. It’s building a world where everyone reads the London Review of Books, and they all have blogs.
“I myself think of BookTok as an engine for discovery, and I think Substack is an engine for discourse,” said the journalist Adrienne Westenfeld. “BookTok is a listicle in a way. It’s people recommending books that you might not have heard of. It’s not as much a place for substantive dialogue about books, which is simply a limitation of short form video.”
Okay, so BookTok is like free advertising and Substack is a place for discussing high-minded literary shit talking about things on our minds. Thoughts on subjects we find important.
I think it’s pretty weird that BookTok provides better advertising than, say, YouTube videos. Or is YouTube too crowded with creators to be noticed? Is YouTube so “five minutes ago” that it’s no longer trendy enough?
Eight novels, one short story collection, all of which I’ve published or will be publishing on Substack, and none of them are The Great American anything. But I never set out to write that.
One of that lot did make the New York Times bestseller list. That is a fact.
So, tell me again … how does Substack differ substantially from Wordpress.com, for instance? (Okay, the paywall bit. How much does that really help us obscurios relative unknowns? :) )
Both platforms have subscriber email capability. Yet, for some reason, publications like the London Review of Books are starting blogs on Substack.
Is it all about posting notes and getting recommendations? Or do the algorithms on Substack make a difference?
And here’s another interesting part:
With both social media and Google diverting potential readers away from publications, many outlets are no longer investing in arts coverage. The literary crowd who used to hang out on what was known as “Book Twitter” no longer gathers on what is now X. All the same, there are still people who like reading, and writing, and thinking about books. Right now, a lot of them seem to be on Substack.
I know I’m here. And I love books and reading them.
What strikes me most about the Substack literary scene is just how much it looks like the literary scene of 20 years ago, the one the millennials who populate Substack just missed. The novels these writers put out tend to be sprawling social fiction about the generational foibles of American families à la Jonathan Franzen. They post essays to their Substacks like they’re putting blog posts on WordPress, only this time, you can add a paywall. All the sad young literary men that are said to have disappeared are there on Substack, thriving. On Substack, it’s 2005 again.
Oh, to be a sad young literary man! Instead of a New York Times bestselling author who can’t sell a book to save her life.
So, is blogging making it’s big comeback? Truly, it is 2005 all over again. :)
I remember 2005. That was the year after my stroke, when I developed dystonia and my whole fucking life changed. Maybe if I wrote more like Jonathan Franzen, I too, could bask in the Summer of Substack. (Yeah, no … probably not, eh?)
I’m not looking for much. Just 1,000 True Fans.
Then, of course, there’s the 10,000 Hours Rule. If we count in all the essays, all the articles, all the web content, all the fiction (published and unpublished), all the screenplays, all the video scripts (there was one I did for a school fundraiser, back when I was healthy a freelancer), I think I’ve managed to hit that particular mark.
But let’s focus on the 1,000 True Fans concept, which you can find in the book Tools of Titans, by good old Tim Ferriss.
To be a successful creator you don’t need millions. You don’t need millions of dollars or millions of customers, millions of clients or millions of fans. To make a living as a craftsperson, photographer, musician, designer, author, animator, app maker, entrepreneur, or inventor you need only thousands of true fans.
A true fan is defined as a fan that will buy anything you produce. These diehard fans will drive 200 miles to see you sing; they will buy the hardback and paperback and audible versions of your book; they will purchase your next figurine sight unseen; they will pay for the “best-of” DVD version of your free youtube channel; they will come to your chef’s table once a month. If you have roughly a thousand of true fans like this (also known as super fans), you can make a living — if you are content to make a living but not a fortune.
Perfect! If I wanted to make a fortune, I would have stuck with a more immediately remunerative career. Something slightly less speculative than trying to sell fiction. Not to mention screenwriting. My decision to do that was definitely not motivated by the money part. Because there is no money part in the beginning. There’s only the writing and note-taking and the contests you place in or don’t place in, with or without notes from the judges on what you did right and what could be improved.
And don’t even get me started on what producers do and what a producer is. There are like, many, many types of producers, and the nature of their work depends on various factors. Are we talking TV or movies? Within the movie realm, you have the producer, (i.e, the head of the whole production process), line producers (the budget mavens), who’ll use their acumen and connections to not only bring your production to fruition within budget, but will do so with an eye to “the package.” (There’s also “associate producers”, which (as I understand it) is a nice credit you give to nice people who support your cause or whatever. A kind of “acknowledgment” (like the ones in a book) of your contribution whatever form that might take.)
So, yeah. You gotta “package” your product (i.e., your film/movie/series concept). And the package has to appeal to someone with enough resources and interest in your work to help fund its making.
Remember … the package must have appeal. It always helps if you can get the interest of a big actor or a name director. And that’s not impossible. You just need to get your work out there, no matter how shy you feel about it. You better overcome that shit, if you want to write screenplays or make films. No one’s gonna volunteer, unless they happen to be mentors. And it pays tremendously to find yourself one of those, let me tell ya.
I think that’ll do for now. My fingers feel like they’re about to fall off. Now, you know what I’ve been learning about for the past 15 years.
I will say it’s helped immeasurably that I’m doing more collaborate writing with other screenwriters. That has truly helped.
I’m also (as I’ve said before) directing my first film. That’s called not waiting for permission.
Meanwhile, I have something like three subscribers here.
Start small and build, right? :)
Gotta admit, I got a kick-ass open rate there! :)
Also, I should mention that the Crime Cafe podcast hit number 3 on this list! That’s awesome, while it lasts.
Be seeing you! :)