I’m not one for resolutions, unless you count ‘continue to eat too much chocolate and drink too much tea’. But I’m in an odd moment just now, and thought it might be interesting to share how this particular author-spoonie manages the publishing malarkey alongside a health crash.
The Nazi bar problem
I moved my blog to Substack from my Wordpress site in November because it offered greater discoverability and more streamlined options for different blog content, semi-private (paywalled) content, and a new community of writers to connect with. I have been enjoying my time here so far - following wonderful creatives, listening to interesting, nuanced (unlike the rest of social media!) conversations, and generally slowly finding my feet. Yay!
Then the Substack owners did their whole ‘we like Nazi money actually, sorry-not-sorry’ thing, and I’ve spent the festive break wondering whether I should return to Wordpress entirely, stop my paid tier, or … do nothing. The conundrum is that I do not want any part of a platform that promotes or profits from Nazis, but … is Substack actually worse than Twitter, Instagram/Threads/Facebook or even Mastodon or Bluesky?
On a personal level, I’ve certainly encountered less offensive content on here than any other platform, I’ve seen more kindness here than on most other platforms. And I’ve yet to have any creepy dudes send me creepy messages, which is something no other platform has managed.
Less personal-level, most big social platforms are owned by rich people and megacorporations, and so by sheer definition, are not led by morally defensible people. Every big social media platform attracts repulsive people and I’ve yet to see anywhere moderate that successfully. That’s not to defend Substack - there’s ineffective moderation and then there’s a refusal to moderate (unless it’s porn/sex-work), and they’re in the latter camp, which is not okay.
So what to do?
Will my leaving Substack help stop Substack becoming a Nazi bar? No.
Because a) I’m too small-fry for the company to care, and b) one less non-Nazi doesn’t exactly solve the Nazi problem. Leaving Substack is arguably ceding ground to Nazis & while it is undoubtedly the most morally straightforward response…I don’t see how leaving really achieves much. The way to stop a Nazi bar being a Nazi bar is to kick the Nazis out, not leave yourself.
Will staying however, enable Substack to become/remain a Nazi bar? Well … maybe?
Again, I’m too small fry to make a difference, but I don’t get to shirk responsibility for my own choices so easily. Staying is a statement of accord with their business decisions. Just like staying on Twitter is tacit support of Melon Husk’s rampant idiocy and evil, and staying on Instagram is tacit support of Zuckerborg’s deeply corrupt ‘moderation’ policies.
And this is where it all starts to get messy. Because ideally, morally, I would have no part of any of these platforms. But realistically, I am a marginalised author trying my hardest to make some kind of living from my craft, and I need online platforms to do that. So do I harm my own career by deleting my accounts, or do I live with the soiled conscience of utilising corrupted tools to lift my voice?
And does the corruptness of the owners negate the good of the majority of members? I stayed on Twitter because it remains, unfortunately, the most accessible platform for large swathes of marginalised communities. So fuck Nazis, but also, who do we hurt by ceding territory to them?
I still don’t know the answer to all this, to be honest. Because…
…Spoons disasters
My physical health has taken a massive nose-dive over the last six weeks. It was sort-of planned - in that my consultant took me off one drug to put me on a hopefully-better one. But it’s gone very pear shaped because the order for the new drug got lost somewhere and what was supposed to be a month of weaning off is looking like 2+ months before I’ll get the new drug, then a few more before I feel the benefits.
That’s all very boring, but the upshot is that I’m currently on 6 days a week of migraine headache, with all the accompanying symptoms alongside that. Which is … not a bundle of fun.
This also means I don’t have the capacity to either make a decision regarding Substack, or do the work to set up elsewhere at the moment. So for now, simply because of my health, I’m stuck here.
The advantage of this is it might give me time to see where others are moving to, and whether the groundswell of opposition within Substack is making enough impact to justify staying to help forge change from within.
Booooks
So Substack shenanigans aside, what does the spoonie disaster mean for my writing in the coming months?
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a spoonie author is the necessity of planning ahead & giving myself so much leeway in my timetable. So I’m taking myself firmly in hand and setting the gentlest possible goals because the next few months are going to be rough, and I really don’t need to make them worse by adding pressure where I don’t have to.
So!
I had planned to write a piece of short fiction every month, to keep the short story muscles ticking over (to mix my metaphors). NO MORE. Nope. No short fic for me.
I also planned to finish the novella I started in the Autumn. Not till I’m back to some sort of sustainable health level, I’m not.
I was hoping to offer an online workshop in February through this page. That plan is on hold, sadly. Workshops take a lot out of me & I just can’t manage in my current state of UGH.
Ditto my mentorships. I was meant to take mentees on in December and February. Mentoring is very spoon-intensive work, so while I’m hoping I might be well enough for February, I will leave that decision until the last possible moment.
I know I have copyedits & proofs of We Are All Ghosts In The Forest coming in the next 2-3 months, so I need to save spoons for these.
I also have a few publicity things to do for The Last To Drown release in Feb, so that takes spoons priority too.
Around those then, and while my agent reads All The Birds Will Be Hostile, all I’m planning on doing (ha! lol. ‘all’) is begin a big edit of the follow up to Ghosts. Much of that will fortunately be away from the computer, and I have no deadline (yet) on delivery to my editor, so it feels fairly stress-free. Aside from the small detail of needing to cut 30,000 words (screaming face emoji).
So I am starting 2024 on a very low ebb, health-wise. Paring back my writing targets is essential if I’m going to endure the next few months. Likewise not holding my own feet to the fire of social media until I have the capacity to deal with it, is another kindness I owe myself just now. It’s not perfect, but then neither is this broken and hurting body.
However, I am also starting 2024 full of hope for all the publishing things in store this year. Three book releases, another book hopefully going out on sub, my first WorldCon in Glasgow, and a tonne of friends’ books also coming out … it’s going to be a wonderful year for words, I just need to weather this storm first.
Very wise. You must look after yourself. Sending tea, chocolate and hugs.