#64: Why Would Anyone subscribe to a gazillion Substack newsletters?
đ How many is too many? Asking for a friend.
In the earliest days of this newsletter, one subscriber clicked the Heart button to indicate that she or he liked one of my posts. This wasnât a friend or family member sending an encouraging signal, but an unrecognisable profile photo and email.
That anonymous reader had more than 300 listed subscriptions on their Substack profile.
âItâs a robot,â my Beloved asserted sagely, not believing that a human being could have the time and will to receive my and 345 other Substack emails in their inbox.
Maybe it was a robot1. Maybe it was an avid reader with wide interests and ample free time. Maybe it was an academic conducting a quantitative study; or a dedicated newsletter writer looking for plentiful inspiration; or an intern tasked with monitoring hundreds of publications for market research purposes. Maybe the subscriber was feeling lonely and wanted the warm feeling of a full inbox! Maybe it was a case of revenge-mass-subscription by a vengeful ex? Maybe it was a silly bet.
Let me know if you have another hypothesis.
Meanwhile, Iâll assume that my mystery reader was an extreme version of the usual Substack junkie enthusiast who hits, hits, hits those juicy Subscribe buttons. And then lets unread newsletters gather online dust in a brimming Promotions folder.
â How many newsletters do YOU subscribe to? Beloved asked just now, as I was typing on the sofa.
â I donât know, 50?
â 50?! Isnât your inbox full? Mine is running out of space.
â [actually counting on my Substack profile] Oh. Iâve got 81.
- ...
- Plus some off Substack.
If youâre a fellow Substacker, you might think several dozens of newsletter subscriptions is totally usual! Not in the ânormalâ world it isnât:
Obviously, there are different reasons to subscribe to a newsletter2. Here are some Iâve noticed in my own subscription patterns, in no particular order (Iâm adding only one example for each; of course thereâs many more!):
Real-life folks
Easy! You know these wonderful writers/podcasters in person (e.g. my friend Anita Makriâs Worldwise)Platform royalty
Substack-famous writers who were probably among the first ones you subscribed to (e.g. Anna Codrea-Radoâs just-defunct A-Mail, which led me to the Attuned writer fellowship, that funds my time to write this newsletter).
Substack colleagues
Lovely fellow writers you connected with on the platformâduring the Go programme, Office Hours etc. (e.g. Leo Mascaroâs Shuffle Sundays).Substack Mount Olympus
Writers you admired before Substack existed; youâd likely follow them wherever they go (e.g. Cheryl Strayedâs Dear Sugar).Origin unknown
You donât recall where you first came across them. No matter; you keep coming to them for hearty chuckles / healthy tears (e.g. Sarah Wheelerâs Momspreading).The resource-full
Newsletters packed with useful information (e.g. Marianna Limasâs Science Writing News Roundup).Aspirational subscribes
Those e-mails you donât really open. When you do, you feel bad about all the smart articles youâre not reading, the delicious food youâre not cooking, the money youâre not investing, and whatnot.
I read that newsletters are awesome because they free us from the dark forces of social media algorithms, and let us direct our precious time and attention where and when we choose. Because we only open the sacred gates of our inboxes to the people and content we most want and need and value!
Wouldnât that be lovely.
I am, still, more indiscriminate than Iâd like to be about my newsletter affections. I have a noisy inbox that I end up scrolling through. Not quite like a Twitter or Facebook timeline, laden with a decade of accumulated follows and likes, but my sacred gates are definitely ajar, and the bouncerâs criteria are a little shifty.
As a writer, Iâm grateful that you receive and open my emails and I hope thatâs what you want to be doing. Even though I wince at Unsubscribe notifications, I also give a mental high-five to the wise subscriber who refuses e-mails she doesnât want or need. Praise be.
After hitting publish, I will:
Set up sign-up confirmation to make sure my next subscriber is neither a robot, nor a vindictive meanie
Pare down my Substack list, liberally
Ask Why before hitting the next Subscribe button
Request a ranking function on Substack so I can spot and cull unread newsletters more easily!
I think it wasnât a robot! That subscriber had (what seemed like) a human behaviour: opening some but not all of my emails, clicking Like very occasionally, and actually turning off their subscription altogether months later.
Iâm not going into what newsletters we pay for, which is a whole other matter. The best succinct take Iâve read on this came from This Is Bullshit and So Can You:
I just think the explosion of newsletters is bizarre. I feel like Substack has inadvertently created an environment where itâs just a bunch of writers sending each other the same $5 back and forth.
Iâd appreciate your mutual subscribing to my Substack âNotes from a Old Drummerâ
Glad to know, I am not the only one!
Subscribing is about personal interests and priorities. Some weeks I try to skim and read all, some weeks I don't. Sometimes I take quick notes (with pen and paper!) and delete the emails. It is good to have a reading strategy. I like Alan Jacobs's (https://blog.ayjay.org/this-and-that/) "don't-read-later" idea:
"Whenever I see something online that I think I want to read, I put it in Instapaper â and then I try to leave it for a while. Often when I visit Instapaper the chief thing I do is delete the pieces I only had thought I needed to read. So for me itâs not just a read-later service, itâs a donât-read-later service. But that only works if I donât go there too often. I try to catch up with my Instapaper queue once a week at most."