Once again a feeling of being plunged into an ocean of words. The Wizard is out there documenting relatable experiences and the quantum clockwork goes bleep and squelch in a satisfying way. Crunchy. I had a mental response to almost every sentence, even though a lot of it simply amounted to vigorous nodding.
SubStack looks like ordered LiveJournal. At some point the transition to Farcebook happened and the hardcore writers were bound to go somewhere.
Instagram used to be this unfamiliar and counterintuitive thing for the vacuous, and now, five years on, it’s my default platform. Prints as posts, gym selfies and negative scans with commentary and the odd occasional picture of my farmers’ market haul as stories.
SubStack requires that I sit or preferably lie down, open an app I don’t open normally, and submerge into a world of WizardVision for a while.
I guess I should do it more often, but ADHD is already telling me to go cook, change music, and start printing already.
Darkroom is where the magic happens for me these days. It pretty much feels like making engravings, only much quicker :)
You do you, but I would say about Substack, you can do pretty much anything you want on here. If you just want to post photos in Notes say, or write every two months, or whatever.
I so agree with you on the effect of losing innocence via Gaza! It has definitely made those “but” and “because” and “and yet” upticks in all the essays feel so hollow — my own included!
Substack for myself is just a great experiment, where I write about the mystical and the esoteric from a personal perspective, which is the only genuine perspective when confronting such mysteries.
Its an experiment because I wasn't at all certain that it would be worth the effort to put personal experience to poetry and prose.
What I can say is that substack provides an opportunity to view ones work objectively, as if it is someone elses. The good thing about this is that it provides an opportunity to decide if you like to critique your work in print. I feel success when there is that elusive sense that I was raw, unpolished, authentic. That is the core of my criteria.
From what I can tell the financially successful people on substack are those who cater to large audiences, their topics are predictably mainstream. They get likes and comments in the triple figures and beyond, and apparently have a cadre of paying subscribers. However, I wouldn't necessarily equate financial success with actual, genuine success at writing.
In the end, the toughest rules are those you lay on yourself, but you already know that.
"I intend, always, to address meaningful things on my Substack. I want to say what’s real, I want to tell the truth..."
And that's how I take it Rosie. I never got the impression you were here for the likes, or prostituting yourself for a paid following. Exposing our character publicly feels risky and counter intuitive, but as I've got older I've learned other people's opinions are less important.
And I don't do funerals; it's a bit late to say anything about a person then, but I could say you're OK, well read, creative mind, shared values. Likeable.
Once again a feeling of being plunged into an ocean of words. The Wizard is out there documenting relatable experiences and the quantum clockwork goes bleep and squelch in a satisfying way. Crunchy. I had a mental response to almost every sentence, even though a lot of it simply amounted to vigorous nodding.
SubStack looks like ordered LiveJournal. At some point the transition to Farcebook happened and the hardcore writers were bound to go somewhere.
Instagram used to be this unfamiliar and counterintuitive thing for the vacuous, and now, five years on, it’s my default platform. Prints as posts, gym selfies and negative scans with commentary and the odd occasional picture of my farmers’ market haul as stories.
SubStack requires that I sit or preferably lie down, open an app I don’t open normally, and submerge into a world of WizardVision for a while.
I guess I should do it more often, but ADHD is already telling me to go cook, change music, and start printing already.
Darkroom is where the magic happens for me these days. It pretty much feels like making engravings, only much quicker :)
You do you, but I would say about Substack, you can do pretty much anything you want on here. If you just want to post photos in Notes say, or write every two months, or whatever.
I so agree with you on the effect of losing innocence via Gaza! It has definitely made those “but” and “because” and “and yet” upticks in all the essays feel so hollow — my own included!
Substack for myself is just a great experiment, where I write about the mystical and the esoteric from a personal perspective, which is the only genuine perspective when confronting such mysteries.
Its an experiment because I wasn't at all certain that it would be worth the effort to put personal experience to poetry and prose.
What I can say is that substack provides an opportunity to view ones work objectively, as if it is someone elses. The good thing about this is that it provides an opportunity to decide if you like to critique your work in print. I feel success when there is that elusive sense that I was raw, unpolished, authentic. That is the core of my criteria.
From what I can tell the financially successful people on substack are those who cater to large audiences, their topics are predictably mainstream. They get likes and comments in the triple figures and beyond, and apparently have a cadre of paying subscribers. However, I wouldn't necessarily equate financial success with actual, genuine success at writing.
In the end, the toughest rules are those you lay on yourself, but you already know that.
"I intend, always, to address meaningful things on my Substack. I want to say what’s real, I want to tell the truth..."
And that's how I take it Rosie. I never got the impression you were here for the likes, or prostituting yourself for a paid following. Exposing our character publicly feels risky and counter intuitive, but as I've got older I've learned other people's opinions are less important.
And I don't do funerals; it's a bit late to say anything about a person then, but I could say you're OK, well read, creative mind, shared values. Likeable.
Keep it coming.