Topsy-Turvy
The Internet is the Upside Down
Seriously, think about it:
Faceless avatars are powerful enough to move the needle both socially and politically; “influencers” have replaced traditional experts in virtually every field as the go-to source for information; we use social media to impress people we’ll never meet at the detriment of our actual relationships.
This place doesn’t make sense.
And you’re right, there aren’t any monsters (per se), but if you’re like me that doesn’t matter much. We are slowly turning ourselves into cybernetic zombies; we are willfully giving into the idea that our “online identity” is our identity. Forsaking our natural disposition to explore, be it physically or intellectually, our world around us for the creature comforts that likes, shares, and subscribes have become.
The Conundrum of Subscription Models
Subscription models are meant to free creators from the traditional pressure associated with ad-based revenue models. They are a “direct to consumer” approach that’s intended to allow creators to create and consumers to consume whatever they want. And they function this way for the most part. Except they can begin to create a brand new incentive, sort of similar to the way standardized testing has done with education.
Instead of creating want we want (or what advertisers want, ultimately still a problem, but one of the “old way”) creators find ourselves creating what our audience wants. Or more precisely: what the algorithmic trends tell us our audience wants. We slowly but surely get pulled away from creating art to creating content.
What makes this topsy-turvy is that the algorithm is fine tuning itself to a consumer base that is slowly giving way to what its fed. We don’t wonder much anymore. We barely look up. If our favorite “influencer” doesn’t tell us to like something or co-sign what we think we like we’ll never see it.
JL, what about Ennead?
I know, some of you are probably wondering why you’ve been reading for this long and I’ve yet to mention Ennead. Well that thought (or the potential for it) is what led me to write this particular newsletter. I’ve noticed a trend since I returned to Substack that doesn’t make sense to me:
I’ve lost nearly half the number of followers (11) since returning less than a month ago than I gained (24) in the 6 months while I was away.
I know the rules of the internet say this is “normative” but am I to believe that while inactive my work was more appealing than it is while I’m active? Maybe. More likely it’s a case of not being top of mind for some folks who were reminded they were no longer interested in what I’m doing (over 400 of you still are, so I’m grateful). But what if something else is happening?
I’ve been teasing a shift away from comics and towards prose. Are folks opting out? It’s possible, and if so, good. It’s tough to swallow but totally reasonable. This would also indicate that my messages are clear and that folks know what they do and don’t want.
Yet I can’t help but wonder, if those who do unsubscribe actually read what I’m writing, would they still unsubscribe? I’ll never know. But it’s this question that brings this entire piece full circle:
In the upside down that is the internet of 2024 we see a shifting landscape. One that’s a bit darker than it should be, a bit hazy and hard to see too far in front of you. If you want to create, you’re incentivized to dance, act a fool, or some combination of the two. Those who want to put out resonant art are more than welcomed to. But we share the stage with folks who capture attention much quicker than we do.
I don’t know how to keep up. I don’t know that I want to. I created a world that I enjoy escaping to; a world that I want to share more of with the audience I’ve gained. Prose is the easiest most cost effective way to do that. I have the most control over that medium. I’ll continue to use it.
The Rule of Nine lives in comic book format, that’s its medium of choice. I didn’t really make that call, it did. But Amashik lives in my mind, unbound by mediums, and formats, and genres, and rules. And I can’t keep it to myself.
JL
Late to this party, but honestly, I don't think any content creator can know why any individual subscribes, unsubscribes, follows, unfollows, pays, skips the paying, whatever, at any given time. It likely has more to do with the individual than anything you personally are or are not doing. They subscribe to you when you're hibernating, sure, they probably subscribed to a shit ton of others, too. Then they realize it's too much, and start unsubscribing. You're spared that fate until you post again, they get the email notice, and bam, they unsubscribe because they're just in a headspace where they want fewer emails, fewer substacks, whatever. Tying it directly to the substance of your content is understandable, but an act of ego in its way. Suspecting an "algorithm" is too non-human, like blaming the weather. There isn't even much of an algorithm at work here in Substack. Likely, it was an act that was completely divorced from your content, and you as a creator. It's just how things roll because we're all living complex lives fuled with too many things. Welcome to humanity.
The content algorithms reward content that is familiar; if I create an 8-second video about the Sorting Hat, it will catch attention 1000 times better than something about my own creations. I don't know that this applies yet to Substack; there doesn't seem to be an algorithmic "feed" here, and instead Substack is encouraging writers to cross-pollinate their readerships through recommendations, sharing, etc. The outstanding question though is how to get new people on here on in the first place.
Regarding your lost followers, I think it is exactly a function of being top-of-mind. Every email you send out gives someone the chance to hop off. Let them show themselves out if they are not interested. It will ultimately help your open rates and you are also left with the people who read and enjoy your work.