I do believe in what some call "The Artistic Personality" and I don't mean this in a woo-woo, superior, New-Agey kind of way. To me, it's more to do with one's wiring - being more sensitive than many (do not insert "overly sensitive" here!) and caring, caring *all the time* is just part of that. Empathy lives close by and I wouldn't give that up for anything. These are not character flaws. Making yourself vulnerable, being honest, taking a chance, making people feel less alone, putting your words out there - this is what writers do! Stay proud, Ramona!
It feels like a very quiet time here on Substack. I know I have been quiet myself, my energy is low and I'm finding it hard to participate, writing or reading. I totally feel you on this, I think we all do. I wish you had linked to the post you are referring to, I would like to read it and could not find it.
Writing is so personal, you are offering the essence of you, and hope your readers are responsive. I write short stories ( which are too long for most). It’s scary, exhilarating , and you bare yourself. I am glad you write.
I missed it because I've had a storm-related migraine that made me ill. So I wouldn't say your column was necessarily not well-received just because people didn't comment.
And if it's any consolation, the owner of a website I admire has told me that over the years she's seen a major decline in comments on guest blogs and there's no connection to content: "People would rather spend time on Instagram and TikTok."
I love that you brought this up. I have been fascinated to notice how much I appreciate those swift, same-day, same-hour responses in this medium where they are possible (so their absence feels like absence!), even though for 30 years I’ve written articles and sent them off to silence, or I’ve heard from one or two readers on this or that article over a period of years. I knew those articles were gold myself, so I first experienced what you describe here with alarm in this instant medium. I do have to coach myself more, as you do here, when no one but me knows there’s gold. I may be fortunate to have those long earlier silences to draw upon.
I mean, of course, that’s precisely what I am about to do, what I am doing, but, truly, why? Why, in any other context, when no one is interested in reading it, just as no one is interested in what we are writing in the first instance?
I’ve been writing, professionally (as in getting paid for the privilege) since 1966, and fewer people, clearly, are interested in anything I have to say today. Indeed, since moving to Substack, far fewer people are interested, it seems. And the more I write, the fewer.
One can speculate about all the possible reasons for this: that I’ve grown old (that’s true) that I’ve become a bore (that’s true of so much on Substack, though, dependent of your opinion) that I don’t write about interesting topics (really?) that people don’t appreciate my sense of humor (well, everyone has their own, and then there are the fans of Jeff Tiedrich, don’t you know...) and on…
I certainly agree with what JB Minton said, that you cannot do anything about the things you cannot control. I learned that bit of wisdom when I was fourteen, studying the Stoics. And I’ve been trying, desperately, to live calmly by that bit of wisdom ever since. Sometimes it soothes.
But, like Tara Penny (perhaps) I grew up in the world of print. My early work was seen (perhaps) by as many as 2 million people at times (so they tell me; who knows how many of those were readers). And almost always with no personal response. My books have been read by...tens? I know this because tens have written responses. Not all good but most were.
And maybe this is why when I spend a week or two perfecting something that takes a few minutes to read on Substack and only one or two people read it and no one has anything to say the slight doesn’t linger too long.
Yet it still stings.
It will always sting.
Because this is not only what I do as some hobby. This is my life’s work. And I have been doing it, professionally, for almost 60 years. Longer than most people attached to Substack have been around.
And do note how most of the responses here have been to compliment you or assuage you and not to respond to the question. I hope I have helped in this regard. I've complimented you before. And I don't believe you need any more assuaging, Ramona. Not today.
I don’t know of a single serious writer who has not felt this way from time to time. Whenever I wrote about politics I know I’m going to get “unsubscribes” and that’s ok. I still have something to say and I’m putting it out there, no matter what, so, hold my beer. The beauty and the terror of this work is that we are public and we have opinions and we may get verbally attacked or ignored for holding whatever views we expressed. It’s part of the deal. Good for you for writing about our shared vulnerability.
I feel the same way alot of the time, but then I take a look at my page and I can't help but feel a sense of pride about the things I've written over these past three or so years, the people I've met and the things I've learned. I've found that if no one is around to clap the least you can do is clap for yourself.
It takes me what seems like forever to get all my thoughts together for one piece. Once my heart and soul has been exposed, I let it go and push publish. My hope is others will read, but often I'm disappointed in the numbers. But just as my work in the art studio, the process is what's most important. But connectivity is a different kind of reward.
There are so many wonderful writers out there and time is limited. I myself can't keep up. So I repost, restack or share older writing because most of my pieces are not dated. Besides, I like what I have written and genuinely believe others will too.
A wise woman once told me - and that would be you - that we each have something to say - and that we need to say it. No matter if it seems like the message is heard or not - you really never know for sure. So, my hat is off to you for putting into words, thoughts that I can't even begin to articulate.
You are a brave and honest writer, which might be why I respect you most all.
Write on, Ramona!
I do believe in what some call "The Artistic Personality" and I don't mean this in a woo-woo, superior, New-Agey kind of way. To me, it's more to do with one's wiring - being more sensitive than many (do not insert "overly sensitive" here!) and caring, caring *all the time* is just part of that. Empathy lives close by and I wouldn't give that up for anything. These are not character flaws. Making yourself vulnerable, being honest, taking a chance, making people feel less alone, putting your words out there - this is what writers do! Stay proud, Ramona!
Hello, I read your post, and it resonated
It feels like a very quiet time here on Substack. I know I have been quiet myself, my energy is low and I'm finding it hard to participate, writing or reading. I totally feel you on this, I think we all do. I wish you had linked to the post you are referring to, I would like to read it and could not find it.
This is an easy fix if you become your own primary audience. The rest will figure itself out. Can’t worry about what you can’t control.
Writing is so personal, you are offering the essence of you, and hope your readers are responsive. I write short stories ( which are too long for most). It’s scary, exhilarating , and you bare yourself. I am glad you write.
I missed it because I've had a storm-related migraine that made me ill. So I wouldn't say your column was necessarily not well-received just because people didn't comment.
And if it's any consolation, the owner of a website I admire has told me that over the years she's seen a major decline in comments on guest blogs and there's no connection to content: "People would rather spend time on Instagram and TikTok."
I love that you brought this up. I have been fascinated to notice how much I appreciate those swift, same-day, same-hour responses in this medium where they are possible (so their absence feels like absence!), even though for 30 years I’ve written articles and sent them off to silence, or I’ve heard from one or two readers on this or that article over a period of years. I knew those articles were gold myself, so I first experienced what you describe here with alarm in this instant medium. I do have to coach myself more, as you do here, when no one but me knows there’s gold. I may be fortunate to have those long earlier silences to draw upon.
Yes! Thank you so much!
I don't know why I didn't think of that. Too busy feeling sorry for myself!
“...maybe we should talk about why we can’t.”
Why?
I mean, of course, that’s precisely what I am about to do, what I am doing, but, truly, why? Why, in any other context, when no one is interested in reading it, just as no one is interested in what we are writing in the first instance?
I’ve been writing, professionally (as in getting paid for the privilege) since 1966, and fewer people, clearly, are interested in anything I have to say today. Indeed, since moving to Substack, far fewer people are interested, it seems. And the more I write, the fewer.
One can speculate about all the possible reasons for this: that I’ve grown old (that’s true) that I’ve become a bore (that’s true of so much on Substack, though, dependent of your opinion) that I don’t write about interesting topics (really?) that people don’t appreciate my sense of humor (well, everyone has their own, and then there are the fans of Jeff Tiedrich, don’t you know...) and on…
I certainly agree with what JB Minton said, that you cannot do anything about the things you cannot control. I learned that bit of wisdom when I was fourteen, studying the Stoics. And I’ve been trying, desperately, to live calmly by that bit of wisdom ever since. Sometimes it soothes.
But, like Tara Penny (perhaps) I grew up in the world of print. My early work was seen (perhaps) by as many as 2 million people at times (so they tell me; who knows how many of those were readers). And almost always with no personal response. My books have been read by...tens? I know this because tens have written responses. Not all good but most were.
And maybe this is why when I spend a week or two perfecting something that takes a few minutes to read on Substack and only one or two people read it and no one has anything to say the slight doesn’t linger too long.
Yet it still stings.
It will always sting.
Because this is not only what I do as some hobby. This is my life’s work. And I have been doing it, professionally, for almost 60 years. Longer than most people attached to Substack have been around.
And do note how most of the responses here have been to compliment you or assuage you and not to respond to the question. I hope I have helped in this regard. I've complimented you before. And I don't believe you need any more assuaging, Ramona. Not today.
I don’t know of a single serious writer who has not felt this way from time to time. Whenever I wrote about politics I know I’m going to get “unsubscribes” and that’s ok. I still have something to say and I’m putting it out there, no matter what, so, hold my beer. The beauty and the terror of this work is that we are public and we have opinions and we may get verbally attacked or ignored for holding whatever views we expressed. It’s part of the deal. Good for you for writing about our shared vulnerability.
I feel the same way alot of the time, but then I take a look at my page and I can't help but feel a sense of pride about the things I've written over these past three or so years, the people I've met and the things I've learned. I've found that if no one is around to clap the least you can do is clap for yourself.
The opposite of love is not hate. It’s indifference!
I hear you Ramona.
It takes me what seems like forever to get all my thoughts together for one piece. Once my heart and soul has been exposed, I let it go and push publish. My hope is others will read, but often I'm disappointed in the numbers. But just as my work in the art studio, the process is what's most important. But connectivity is a different kind of reward.
There are so many wonderful writers out there and time is limited. I myself can't keep up. So I repost, restack or share older writing because most of my pieces are not dated. Besides, I like what I have written and genuinely believe others will too.
I enjoy your writing.
A wise woman once told me - and that would be you - that we each have something to say - and that we need to say it. No matter if it seems like the message is heard or not - you really never know for sure. So, my hat is off to you for putting into words, thoughts that I can't even begin to articulate.