So many of us don’t want you to leave, I have gone through and read every comment other than mine, they are asking you to stay. You are appreciated here. There is so much to be said, but first let me share that I understand the loneliness felt through online platforms. The weight of performance. The reduction to numbers and algorithms. Also, the longing for connection, for silence, for peace. A few things I have learned recently:
1.community online and community in person don’t have to be exclusive. Actually, they can support each other.
2. Leaving forever vs. taking a break (you can step away for a time, take a deep breathe, and return when you are ready) you don’t have to leave permanently to find rest.
3. Don’t discount that 1 person (one like, one comment, one share, one subscriber). That 1 is enough. That 1 is important. We don’t need to be famous to matter.
4. Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket. Publish, type, hand write, share on social media, join a club, go to an open mic night. Join a poem sharing zoom club (or start your own!)
5. Remember the other things in life, too. I know I know, we are artists, we take our writing and our art very personally and very seriously. But it’s not the only part of us that matters. Connect in other ways, too! LIVE!!
Hey there. I think you ought to pursue publishing so all your eggs aren’t in one basket as it were. And join some kind of writing or reading group that supports you as a writer. Your writing is so strong, your poems are amoung the best I read here.
For what it’s worth, I know what it’s like to chase after likes and comments. It can exhaust the spirit. But if I let up, stop bearing down so hard, it gets better. Submitting for publication sucks too, but it can help to divide up your attention a bit.
Hey so i wanted to share my experience reading this. I have been going through a rough patch mostly related to heartbreak and grief. My heart feels like a load that I’m carrying around. In the past, every time I would feel depressed, I read poems to myself out loud to feel less lonely. I haven’t done that in quite a while until now. I opened my gmail and saw your post. I started reading it. And then, out if nowhere, I had this urge to read your piece to myself out loud. And that’s what I did. Your beautiful words reverberating in my room. All this to say, your words have importance that goes way beyond the metrics although I can understand how stifling the whole algorithm process can be. But I wanted to tell you that for the few brief moments that I took to rea your words, my grief and pain became less acute. If only for a few minutes. The last line of your passage just hit me. Straight in my heart. I wish that whatever decision you take is the one that makes you happy because writing is such monumentally beautiful task and we should enjoy it. If taking a hiatus is what’s gonna reignite the pure connection you felt towards writing before joining Substack, than do it. You can always return to Substack when you feel ready. I will miss your writings. But your contentment is more important. I wish you all the best 💓
This is so beautifully written! But I understand. I understand the longing for the human interactions. For the private letters, the handwriting. The intimacy of it that can't be felt through the world-wide-web. But one doesn't exclude the other.
I saw this video by likely a the BBC recently where British actors gathered for writing letters. By hand. And they told what it meant for them. What it has that typing on a website doesn't.
We really shouldn't look at the statistics. There is no way a machine or algorithm can measure one's feelings, or the changes in the wider environment. The amount of likes on any given posts (yours or mine) can be affected by even political events, someone doing anything outrageous, family events, school starting and parents becoming busier or someone being shy enough to even say that when she liked something that she shouldn't have. :) Not everyone is as brave as you appear to be.
You know, things happen. In your life and in others'. We can't rely on anyone else's validation, being it a like or a comment, but can hope for it.
I wrote something not too long ago. That reflected how I felt then. Today it's just a piece of art (can't believe I say that), a timestamp of feelings I had then. Today I am different.
If you feel you need to go then do it. But don't close this account, just log off of it. For now. So you don't burn bridges and you can come back.
Thought this beautiful in many ways, a daily mirror of how we all feel. So I write in this space, post/stack whatever, look for likes and comments and try to remember my origin story where I just write for 18 months with hardly a like or a comment just so at least one person in the world might benefit/see me. Know what its like to be me. That i am not alone - richard
I would miss your words, your thoughts, your perspective on life. I don’t read you regularly because I struggle to keep up with everything here, but I’ve always felt enriched by your writing presence every time I have read your words.
I understand your beautifully expressed sentiments. I have ebbed and flowed, felt downtrodden by the online life - pummelled and bolstered in equal measure.
Maybe take a break. Maybe see how it feels. Maybe come back. I hope you find what works best for you. I hope you don’t leave entirely.
It would be a shame to abandon Substack. In a social media and typewriter-bashed/handwritten worlds don't need to be mutually exclusive. I think of Substack as two overlapping communities - the monetizing big-hitting barons club, and the lowly occasional writers like me. For me, Substack is all about long form writing, I'm here partly to contribute and partly to read the thoughts of others like you, the balance emphaticslly toward the latter. I've given up on notes because of the biased algorithm. When time permits, I write, as if to send a transmission into the firmament, or cork a message (albeit a long one!) into a bottle. A legacy of thought for someone else to discover and read, maybe years later. The encouragement to create those occasional messages comes from Substack as an enabler, not necessarily an end in itself.
I hate to see you leave because I will miss your words very much! I do understand the need to come home to yourself and be present, though, to make the creation for you and not for likes. That is an amazing gift to give yourself as a writer. I wish you many wonderful discoveries as you step away. (And I selfishly hope to read your excellent words again sometime!!)
🖤 The quiet is not empty; it’s where the soul begins to speak again. Sending so much love.
So many of us don’t want you to leave, I have gone through and read every comment other than mine, they are asking you to stay. You are appreciated here. There is so much to be said, but first let me share that I understand the loneliness felt through online platforms. The weight of performance. The reduction to numbers and algorithms. Also, the longing for connection, for silence, for peace. A few things I have learned recently:
1.community online and community in person don’t have to be exclusive. Actually, they can support each other.
2. Leaving forever vs. taking a break (you can step away for a time, take a deep breathe, and return when you are ready) you don’t have to leave permanently to find rest.
3. Don’t discount that 1 person (one like, one comment, one share, one subscriber). That 1 is enough. That 1 is important. We don’t need to be famous to matter.
4. Don’t put all of your eggs in one basket. Publish, type, hand write, share on social media, join a club, go to an open mic night. Join a poem sharing zoom club (or start your own!)
5. Remember the other things in life, too. I know I know, we are artists, we take our writing and our art very personally and very seriously. But it’s not the only part of us that matters. Connect in other ways, too! LIVE!!
You are amazing.
Hey there. I think you ought to pursue publishing so all your eggs aren’t in one basket as it were. And join some kind of writing or reading group that supports you as a writer. Your writing is so strong, your poems are amoung the best I read here.
For what it’s worth, I know what it’s like to chase after likes and comments. It can exhaust the spirit. But if I let up, stop bearing down so hard, it gets better. Submitting for publication sucks too, but it can help to divide up your attention a bit.
I agree with Rebecca, 100%.
Hey so i wanted to share my experience reading this. I have been going through a rough patch mostly related to heartbreak and grief. My heart feels like a load that I’m carrying around. In the past, every time I would feel depressed, I read poems to myself out loud to feel less lonely. I haven’t done that in quite a while until now. I opened my gmail and saw your post. I started reading it. And then, out if nowhere, I had this urge to read your piece to myself out loud. And that’s what I did. Your beautiful words reverberating in my room. All this to say, your words have importance that goes way beyond the metrics although I can understand how stifling the whole algorithm process can be. But I wanted to tell you that for the few brief moments that I took to rea your words, my grief and pain became less acute. If only for a few minutes. The last line of your passage just hit me. Straight in my heart. I wish that whatever decision you take is the one that makes you happy because writing is such monumentally beautiful task and we should enjoy it. If taking a hiatus is what’s gonna reignite the pure connection you felt towards writing before joining Substack, than do it. You can always return to Substack when you feel ready. I will miss your writings. But your contentment is more important. I wish you all the best 💓
You!
This is so beautifully written! But I understand. I understand the longing for the human interactions. For the private letters, the handwriting. The intimacy of it that can't be felt through the world-wide-web. But one doesn't exclude the other.
I saw this video by likely a the BBC recently where British actors gathered for writing letters. By hand. And they told what it meant for them. What it has that typing on a website doesn't.
We really shouldn't look at the statistics. There is no way a machine or algorithm can measure one's feelings, or the changes in the wider environment. The amount of likes on any given posts (yours or mine) can be affected by even political events, someone doing anything outrageous, family events, school starting and parents becoming busier or someone being shy enough to even say that when she liked something that she shouldn't have. :) Not everyone is as brave as you appear to be.
You know, things happen. In your life and in others'. We can't rely on anyone else's validation, being it a like or a comment, but can hope for it.
I wrote something not too long ago. That reflected how I felt then. Today it's just a piece of art (can't believe I say that), a timestamp of feelings I had then. Today I am different.
If you feel you need to go then do it. But don't close this account, just log off of it. For now. So you don't burn bridges and you can come back.
Best,
H.
Thought this beautiful in many ways, a daily mirror of how we all feel. So I write in this space, post/stack whatever, look for likes and comments and try to remember my origin story where I just write for 18 months with hardly a like or a comment just so at least one person in the world might benefit/see me. Know what its like to be me. That i am not alone - richard
I would miss your words, your thoughts, your perspective on life. I don’t read you regularly because I struggle to keep up with everything here, but I’ve always felt enriched by your writing presence every time I have read your words.
I understand your beautifully expressed sentiments. I have ebbed and flowed, felt downtrodden by the online life - pummelled and bolstered in equal measure.
Maybe take a break. Maybe see how it feels. Maybe come back. I hope you find what works best for you. I hope you don’t leave entirely.
Don’t go
I hope you don't leave
It would be a shame to abandon Substack. In a social media and typewriter-bashed/handwritten worlds don't need to be mutually exclusive. I think of Substack as two overlapping communities - the monetizing big-hitting barons club, and the lowly occasional writers like me. For me, Substack is all about long form writing, I'm here partly to contribute and partly to read the thoughts of others like you, the balance emphaticslly toward the latter. I've given up on notes because of the biased algorithm. When time permits, I write, as if to send a transmission into the firmament, or cork a message (albeit a long one!) into a bottle. A legacy of thought for someone else to discover and read, maybe years later. The encouragement to create those occasional messages comes from Substack as an enabler, not necessarily an end in itself.
I hate to see you leave because I will miss your words very much! I do understand the need to come home to yourself and be present, though, to make the creation for you and not for likes. That is an amazing gift to give yourself as a writer. I wish you many wonderful discoveries as you step away. (And I selfishly hope to read your excellent words again sometime!!)