a month ago i posted a note asking for non-viral substack pieces. i got a thousand replies out of which i found a great many number of gems. some of them with so few likes i wouldn’t need all my fingers to count them. another note about substack essays being on par with stuff from the new yorker sparked discussions on gatekeepers and the very metrics we use to determine what is worthy and what isn’t. most people apparently feel we live in a world that prioritizes popularity over quality. and with the advent of social media, quantity is often hailed as the primary indicator that someone is on their way to notoriety.
“consistency” is a word i must have heard every day for the last five years, while “quality” is relegated to the sidelines as an afterthought. i myself have felt the pressure to post more frequently than i felt possible, just so i wouldn’t fall into obscurity. because low views, few likes, a handful of followers or subscribers, have now been equalled to low quality or a lack of relevance.
a fellow substacker was recently baffled because they have 50k subscribers and average 10 comments a post while i “only” have 2k subscribers and get the same amount or more. while i did not engage with that person, that kind of interaction is a symptom of this era of external validation. influencers ask each other how many followers they have before deciding if that person is worth their time. tiktok commenters will berate experts for not having a big enough following, as if that’s the hallmark of expertise rather than actual degrees and experience. on substack, subscriber count is used as a direct reflection of an author’s writing prowess or a symbol of the originality of their ideas.
comparison is the death of joy — and creativity. some people are popular because they are remarkably talented. other people are popular because they know how to be popular; they follow the trends, they understand what does well and what doesn’t, or care more about metrics than substance. or maybe someone came to a platform and brought their massive following from another social media app. maybe shorter pieces perform better in an age of shortened attention spans. or it’s just that we don’t know how algorithms work and we’ll forever be at the mercy of tech companies run by tech bros.
when there are essays with very few likes that do make it to my feed, they are no less captivating, relevant, well-written than the popular ones from more well-known writers. it reminds me of my frequent trips to my local library. i seldom buy new books; i much prefer wandering the aisles of public libraries and getting recommendations from librarians. i have found hidden gems that have quite literally changed my vision of life, have taught me to write differently, to observe the world in completely different ways. most of these books are unknown. they’ve never gone viral on tiktok, they might have 30 ratings on goodreads. and they are absolutely gorgeous.
obscurity is not mediocrity. i sincerely hope these authors know that their work has been life-changing. lesser-known books are as important as best-sellers, just like non-viral essays are as vital as the ones we’ve all seen on our feeds. it may be discouraging at times, to not get recognition. or to do well one time, and not so much the next. but sometimes you touch one person’s life and that’s the most significant thing you can do as an artist. that’s the most precious gift we can give each other as human beings. that’s the power of art. modern metrics like likes and views and subscribers truly mean nothing once you’ve been courageous enough to bare your soul into your work. someone will pick up a piece of it and carry it with them forever.
being popular is fun, it’s exciting. fame may be a goal you want to pursue — go for it. but it all means nothing if you don’t create something you are actually proud of sharing with the world. if you write to be popular, you might game the system. but what will your legacy be?
fin.
bree beauregard
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External validation feels like hooking up with the most popular guy in school, internal validation feels like having a husband who makes you breakfast in the morning.
(I think both are cool to experience at some point in your life)
this really helps, actually, thank you!