I have to warn you!
Another writing platform exodus is upon us, and it's about as graceful as a three-legged elephant doing the tango. The latest migration wave has washed up a new breed of content creators, washing ashore on Substack's relatively pristine beach—refugees from Medium, Twitter (sorry, X), and various social media platforms, all clutching their metaphorical writing scrolls and wearing their most desperate "follow me" expressions.
The Follow-for-Follow Fever Dream
If you've spent more than five minutes on Substack recently, you've witnessed the digital equivalent of a pyramid scheme masquerading as a writing community. "Follow me, and I'll follow you back!" they chirp, with all the sincerity of a used car salesman promising you'll love this slightly dented sedan. It's networking reduced to its most transactional, most soul-crushing essence.
These are writers who view human connection as a simple mathematical equation: followers = validation. Each "follow" is a tiny digital participation trophy, a participation badge in the grand championship of absolutely nothing. They're not building a readership; they're building a house of cards made from mutual back-patting and algorithmic delusion.
The Medium Exodus: Trauma Survivors Unite
Many of these newcomers are Medium expatriates, shell-shocked veterans of a platform that promised democratized writing but delivered algorithmic roulette. They arrive on Substack like refugees, eyes wide, muttering about paywalls and engagement metrics. They've traded one content platform for another, hoping this time, THIS TIME, they'll crack the code of online writing success.
Their profiles read like a desperate personal ad:
- "Writer | Storyteller | Hoping Someone Will Actually Read This"
- "Passionate about sharing my journey (and desperately seeking subscribers)"
- "Former Medium top writer (read: I once went viral by accident)"
The Social Media Mercenaries
Then there are the social media platform jumpers. These are the folks who treat writing platforms like a game of musical chairs, always searching for the next stage where they might—just might—find their audience. Twitter/X burned them, Medium disappointed them, and now Substack looks like a promised land.
They bring with them a toolkit of desperation:
- Hashtag abuse
- Emoji-laden headlines
- The uncanny ability to turn any personal anecdote into a "life-changing lesson"
- A complete disregard for the art of nuanced writing
The Follow-Back Ecosystem
Let's be brutally honest about the "follow me, I'll follow you back" ecosystem.
It's not networking. It's not community building. It's digital back-scratching at its most primitive. Each "follow" is a tiny, meaningless transaction—I'll inflate your numbers if you inflate mine. We're not creating value; we're creating the literary equivalent of fake currency.
These writers aren't interested in your words. They're interested in your number. Your follower count. Your potential to boost their own visibility. Reading? That's optional. Engaging? Even more so.
A Modest Proposal for the Desperate
To all you platform-hopping, follow-begging content creators: slow down. Take a breath. Writing isn't about how many people follow you—it's about saying something worth following. It's about crafting sentences that make people stop, think, feel something beyond a passive scroll and a mechanical click.
Your worth isn't measured in followers. It's measured in the moments you make someone pause. The insights you spark. The connections you genuinely forge.
But hey, if clicking "follow" and expecting an immediate reciprocation is your idea of building a writing career, who am I to stop you? Keep dancing your desperate digital dance. The rest of us will be over here, actually writing.
Disclaimer: No egos were permanently damaged in the writing of this piece. Probably.