I've been following a number of interesting writers on Substack. It's a platform hosting blogs with emails to readers and a way to monetize the writing by offering paid subscriptions. I can't imagine asking anyone to pay for my random scribblings, and I understand the Blogger interface (finally) so I feel no need to switch.
Joyce Vance and Sherman Alexie and Robert McFaul write often and intelligently and I don't have to pay to read their words. They do offer subscriptions, often with the encouraging note that it helps me make the time for writing to you.
I've always found that Joyce Vance makes sense out of chaos. I paid a subscription fee of $50 mostly to thank her for that. Occasionally, five written questions and answers with someone important are available to subscribers only. I ddin't find them that fascinating, and they certainly weren't worth $50.
There's one part of the dilemma - I still enjoy her writing, and I'll read whenever she posts (which is often), but I'm not going to pay for it any more. She's offering it for free. Why do I feel guilty?
Sherman Alexie shares a poem or two or five several times a week. Often there's a short story. His emotions are raw, his insights are profound, his language makes me misty. He offers everything for free. I feel privileged to read it without having to search for it. It arrives in my inbox and on my Substack feed. These are new, original, gorgeous pieces I'm reading for free.
There's another piece of the dilemma - I feel like I'm stealing his words. He offers a subscription, with no extra perks. He's tossing his words out into the ether, and I'm taking them in. It seems that I should send him something.
Robert McFaul is brilliant. He's also employed. He has a government pension. I don't always finish everything he writes, but I always leave informed. I'm on the fence about sending him my dollars.
I pay taxes for the library, and anyway Ben Franklin wanted me to have books to borrow at no cost so I feel that I'm honoring a Founding Father when I grab books from the shelves. I buy the books I need for class, and resell most of them when I'm finished. Dr. Zhivago (all $12.99 of him) lives in the Kindle, the funds unable to be recouped.
I winnowed my library every time we moved. These are what I've saved.
I have always loved to read and there are so many books I love holding in my hands in their dead-tree versions, rereading, and seeing on my bookshelves. But there are far many more books that I am happy to borrow from the local library. I choose the library over Kindle any day of the week!
ReplyDeleteDo you think it's generational? Or do we not travel enough to make the Kindle a necessity? Meanwhile, we go to the library!
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I have not found anyone on Substack that I would pay money to read. As a matter of fact, the ones I've read aren't even good enough to subscribe. One writer had been on Wordpress and was quite delightful until she published her memoir (which was not all that delightful) and now she seems determined to be a "professional" writer and she really tries too hard.
ReplyDeleteThere was a beautiful description in Dr Zhivago about writing artfully and artlessly and having the reader convinced without knowing how he go there, the writing vanishing into the telling. Sounds like the memoirist needs to remind herself of that.
DeleteTry Sherman Alexie if no one else.
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Heather Cox Richardson's Letters From An American is on substack, and I read her every day. I don't remember if I pay, but it is well worth it if I do.
ReplyDeleteYes, I read her, too, and don't remember if I pay or not either. Another reason we're friends!
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