Substack isn't Sparking Joy (but maybe it's me)

On loving the draft, loathing the algorithm, and trying to show up anyway

Writing has been bringing me a lot of pleasure recently, and at this point, I know it needs to be a big part of my life.

I look forward to writing every day, even if it’s just my journal. I am loving some of the freelance copywriting work I’ve picked up recently, and am continuing to send pitches out to publications.

I am having fun outlining and drafting various essays on topics that are all important to me — motherhood, career (and now layoffs), evolving relationships, and working with my ADHD. These essays feel meaningful and are all topics I want to share. So why are they still sitting in my drafts?

When I go to edit these essays and prepare them to be published — adding photos, checking and citing my sources, refining the argument, and writing that punchy conclusion — I find myself slowing down and pausing, and ultimately needing to step away.

This has happened about a dozen times over the past few months¹, and I’ve been reflecting to figure out why that is. Is it a familiar inability to follow through? Maybe a little — I do think that struggling to finish off any of these drafts is causing me to spend a little less time on my personal, publishable writing. But that didn’t quite feel like it.

Is it that the busyness of summer is already setting in? Or similarly, a shift in priorities? Again, perhaps. Our calendars are filling up, with something to do almost every weekend since the beginning of May. Nap times that used to be focused on writing are now focused on other things that are important to me. In the moment, I make a choice, and the choice isn’t always Substack.

Despite that, I am still showing up, still writing, still spending time working through thoughts and ideas and little sparks. At the end of a writing session, I’m left with something that gets my ideas out in a way that feels good and says what I want to say for me.

I usually love the editing and ‘prepare to publish’ phase. I cut the repetition, I comb through to fix grammar, I rework sentences that don’t quite say what I thought they would say. I find sources and examples to bring some of my ideas to light. I take out my ‘TKs’ and add photos². I look at what I’ve written with the lens of “who cares?” and “why am I the one to write this?” and usually, I have a decent answer to those questions.

And then I hit publish. I send something off into your inboxes and into the Substack universe, sharing via Notes, and making sure it is seen amongst all the clutter that Substack Notes can be.

Every now and then, I’ll throw something up on my Instagram stories. Recently, I’ve done the terrifying thing to share on LinkedIn as well.

I get a few comments, and I respond (I love responding to comments, by the way). I get a few new subscribers. Maybe someone ‘Restacks’ what I have written, and I’ll like that.

And the cycle continues.

But lately, this whole last part isn’t happening. Or when it does, it feels forced. While the pleasure of writing in general is very much alive within me, I sometimes think I’ve lost the joy of showing up and existing on Substack as a platform.

And now that I’m unemployed, I should arguably have more time to publish. To some extent, that feels true, but publishing has still felt like a huge chore this summer, even if it has gotten a bit easier since the layoff — I find I have more time and creative energy.

I didn’t realize this was happening until a random day³ in June, when I was chatting with my Brooklyn Substack Mom WhatsApp⁴ about showing up on this platform.

Danielle

of

Ordinary Animals

mentioned that, ultimately she has started to feel turned off from social media and the internet, which was making it hard for her “to actually sit and engage with Substack at the moment”.

I agreed with her and gave the comment a ‘like’ and then went on with my day.

But I didn’t stop thinking about what she said, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true it was for me. I’d been frustrated with not being able to show up here, but her comment helped me realize that while I’m still finding joy in writing, I’ve lost the joy of showing up here, on Substack, specifically.

I’d blamed summer, burnout, and laziness, but Danielle helped me realize it might be more about my relationship to this space.

I find it hard to get these essays over the finish line. It’s not the editing I have issue with, but I just can’t find the drive to turn my writing into something (more) palpable, sharable, viral-able. And now, I feel like I have to do that in order to show up here now.

I really enjoy editing, but I'm finding myself tailoring my work to what will perform best. Which title is going to get clicks when it appears on Notes? Which angle will the algorithm pick up? What thesis will people want to share and repost and create a viral effect? What hasn’t been said?

How can I keep moving up and to the right?

I think this is a natural part of being human — we want to be popular, we want to be validated, we want to know our ideas are liked (because that means we are liked). Even though it’s natural and understandable, I’m finding it exhausting (and a bit performative).

Ever since my digital detox earlier this year, I’ve found myself really turned off by social media. If I go on Instagram at all, it’s for 5-10 minutes a day. I go on LinkedIn to play the daily games and search for jobs, and I forget to open Facebook to check my local Buy Nothing Group (something I used to do daily).

But I can’t let Substack go. I find myself opening Notes aimlessly, seeing what others are writing about, saving essays to read later and then reading maybe 20% of the ones I’ve saved. I notice what’s trending, what people want to read and talk about. I play the comparison game I know better than to play. I throw a few Notes out there to join the conversation, struggle to find connection, and try to use the platform to get more eyes on my work.

Lately, I’ve found myself wondering if I can still grow here — on Substack, as a writer — without bending myself to fit what performs.

This doesn’t bring me joy, but instead has started to feel like a necessary part of using this platform. When I started my Substack over two years ago, Notes had just been introduced.

You also only really saw Notes from the publications you subscribed to — there wasn’t really an algorithm. You saw content from people you didn’t follow⁵ because someone you did follow shared it. Overall, it was pretty quiet.

Then, I took a hiatus after my son was born, and then another one after I went back to work. I returned after the summer of 2024 and found notes to be absolutely blossoming. It was fun, it was cool, and it felt like it was a place for real community and discovery. I liked it. It didn’t feel like traditional social media, because I wasn’t thinking about it through that lens.

Recently, something has shifted for me. I find myself consumed in the strategy surrounding the platform more than I’m enjoying the community and learning from others. I think about how I can position myself to stand out, and then I get frustrated that I’m even thinking that way.

I want to get back to community and connection.

What used to be the core of Substack — publications, essays, and authors — feels secondary. Now, it feels like it’s about what we can say about our essays to make others want to read them. What hot takes we can make about writing or parenting or Sabrina Carpenter or Sydney Sweeney or Maalvika or whatever the topic du jour is, and how we can be even wittier and more poignant than the person next to us, than we were yesterday.

I am willing to believe that this isn’t a Substack issue but rather that maybe something has changed within me. I am finding it exhausting to show up in spaces that feel like social media, and Substack has started to feel like social media.

To be clear, I get it. I think it overall could be net good. I’m just struggling with it.

Prior to my layoff, I was a Product Manager by day, and more specifically (and relevantly), I worked directly on a product that is trying to crack the nut on community and social. I deeply and intimately understand the appeal and draw of doing social right, and I do think that Substack is doing it well. Like, really well.

The community is supportive and mostly like-minded, but there’s also nuance and discourse. People are excited to show up, and I wouldn’t have made the connections without the shift into community. While I know there are people with some scary-to-me opinions on here, I rarely see them. The algorithm is working.

I want to engage with the community but I get mentally bogged down in numbers and growth. I want showing up to come easily, and deep down, I know that if I’m authentic and putting good work out there, then that’s all that matters. But there’s a voice inside me telling me it’s not enough, that I need to chase the high of growing and play the game.

That’s not to say I’m going to feel this way forever. Part of writing this piece was to work through some of what I was feeling about Substack as a platform and my newsletter as an outlet in general. I know I don’t want to write for the algorithm, but I also know that I want my work to be seen. I’m finding it incredibly difficult to balance the nuance of those two truths. I think there’s a way, but right now the path doesn’t always seem clear.

So, in writing this one, I’m challenging myself to get it out despite all of this. I’m getting back to my roots — writing what I want to write, engaging how I want to engage, and trying not to worry about crafting my content in order for it to be ‘picked up’.

There’s a way to feel a general disdain towards social spaces and also really enjoy what they have to offer. For me, I think it’s going to come down to acknowledging where I am and how I’m feeling about social media, and remembering what brought me to Substack in the first place — I like writing and I like sharing my writing and I want to do more of that. I can do that and engage in the community and still want to grow without being all consumed by it.

So, no, I have not been feeling pleasure or joy in writing for Substack lately, but I’m working through it, and I still want to show up here.

I’m committed to finding the joy again. I’m going to write what I want and publish anyway, even if I don’t think I have the next big viral idea. Can I grow here without performing? I don’t know – but I’m going to try.

Does growth matter? I think I have to be honest with myself and admit that it does, and that’s okay, but I’m convinced there’s a way to do it that feels authentic and allows me to show up for me, and not for an algorithm. I’ve already grown a lot, and am grateful for the community here.

So for now, I’ll just show up. Putting work out into the world that feels good and tells a good story, and trusting that’s enough. I think growth could follow, but I’m also realizing that isn’t the goal for me. It’s a potential outcome, but is only truly possible if I let joy take the lead.

---

Thanks for reading This Might Be Cringe! If you enjoyed this one, please consider subscribing, sharing, letting me know in the comments, or treating me to my next cold brew.

1. It happened with this essay! I wrote a 2,000-word first draft on June 10th lol.

2. And yes, photo cred when it’s due.

3. It was the day before I got laid off, lol. I wrote most of this then, and then I noticed my relationship with Substack started changing as I found I had more time to publish. But I realize a lot of this still rings true.

4. Niche, I know…

5. I don’t actually think there was even a concept of ‘following’ then, just subscribing. Just publications