Weeknote 14/2025: Reading off-platform
Finding balance between reader convenience and creator support
Olá!
As I've optimised my newsletter reading for my convenience, I've begun to wonder: as readers in the digital age, what responsibilities do we have to the creators whose work we consume?
It has been a while since I redesigned my workflow to push newsletters to my Kobo. Since then I've read over 300 newsletters and currently have 150 unread. This suggests I've subscribed to too many and need to evaluate the ones I read, but the 74 favourites will hopefully direct me towards which ones stay and which ones go (for now).
What's bothering me, however, is my solution's detachment from providing the authors with feedback. I cannot push a Like or Favourite from my Kobo to platforms like Substack. Is that important when my original aim was to read more? Should I consider my feedback as a necessary form of payment?
Is it the audience's job to provide a dopamine hit?
I post each week (most of the time 😳) on Substack and gather a modest amount of views and very few Likes. Does it bother me that others might be digesting my ramblings off-platform and in the way they prefer?
I spent a day considering this question and, with absolute honesty, it doesn't negatively affect me at all. I occasionally get little messages or IRL comments which, of course, are lovely moments, but I write to discover more about myself and to record the events of each week. I generally say thanks and move on because, for me anyway, writing is a passion project and not my career.
I think we are all content creators now, aren’t we? My experience in this area informs how I approach being a content consumer. On my Kobo, I want to read thoughtful text with minimal advertising. I can skim what is embedded in a newsletter easily, and because videos are displayed as thumbnails, they don't distract me. This reading environment helps me focus on what matters most: the author’s oeuvre.
But we are 21st Century digital citizens who should act with empathy, compassion and kindness in every interaction. So I should at least try to connect with the author to assure them that they and their writing matter. I’ll ponder on this a little more.
Lessons from a discarded career pathway
I remember a conversation with my partner in 2003/4. I was about to start my PGDE while simultaneously making relatively decent progress as a musician. Please don’t misunderstand me when I say decent: I mean (for better or worse) the content I created and the way I shared it stood out. I toyed with the idea of taking a year to push the music further, gigging further afield and "taking it a bit more seriously."
She kindly asked me if I'd still enjoy what I did if it were a job where I was under pressure to make a reasonably steady income plus take direction from others on songwriting and recording matters. At the time I was gigging regularly and making about £400 a month from support slots and CD sales, which, while incredibly affirming, wasn't enough to cover all the bills. I also realised that I had started to care a lot about what bookers, reviewers and prospective labels thought of my output and that this wasn't as much fun as I’d envisaged.
I couldn't see the process remaining as enjoyable if I had to prioritise what a perceived audience resonated with over my creative freedom. My partner saw that trap coming. I was quietly furious at her question, but she was right, and her simple inquiry allowed me to recognise an important truth: external validation can transform passion into obligation.
Although over twenty years ago now, this experience mirrors the current tension in content creation. Substack for example has been rapidly adding features recently including leaderboards, badges and videos. These features are designed to provide creators with engagement metrics but can also create new pressures and expectations.
And what about the authors who stop posting content due to negative feedback from readers? The old maxim of keeping quiet if you have nothing nice to say is long gone. This perhaps increases the need to ensure that positive feedback, with no notes or ulterior motives, reaches the writer.
Alternative models for reader-creator relationships
Perhaps what we need is a more cooperative approach to digital content: a model where all parties contribute and, in the long run, benefit. This needn't mean immediate engagement on every platform, but rather thoughtful participation in a broader ecosystem of ideas.
I subscribed to a bi-monthly printed magazine on Patreon, Crash! after receiving The Spectrum as a much-desired Christmas gift. There is also a small digital channel on Facebook which mostly features photos of the magazine arriving around the world and, more often than not, anxious queries about when it will be delivered. I'm currently abroad on holiday and was over the moon to receive the latest copy the day before I flew out. I’ve enjoyed reading it by the pool as it is a mixture of revisited articles from 40 years ago, previews or reviews of new games (yes, the Spectrum scene is still alive!), and a lovely section highlighting artwork created entirely on the machine. I value this creation far more than the Wired magazines I used to look forward to buying at the airport, only to be disappointed by yet another “special” look at cryptocurrencies.
Patreon offers subscribers the ability to comment on each author’s post but I’ve noticed that, in the case of Crash Magazine anyway, this is seldom used. Subscribers appear to favour the Facebook channel (for now).
This cross-pollination between platforms is, I’d argue, much more beneficial for the growth of the magazine. The more diversification there is across platforms, the more likely readers are to discover, appreciate, and amplify your work.
Way back in publishing history, the audience didn't directly interact with authors in real-time. Authors received sales reports summarising popularity in regions. Newspapers, magazines, TV shows and radio highlighted strong writing or personal favourites. It seemed more possible to have sleeper hits, unearthed after months or years.
Today's digital landscape offers opportunities for value beyond metrics, where readers can apply what they've learned or realised from newsletters into their lives and create their own amplification channels. Online or local reading groups are a great way forward here.
The historical perspective also raises an important question: must digital content consumption always involve immediate feedback? Perhaps there's value in creating space between creation and reaction, allowing both creators and consumers room to breathe. Again, reading groups provide an excellent model here as they usually take a few weeks or months to absorb a book and then discuss revelations, comparisons and suchlike, glass of wine optional.
I'm considering several approaches to better support authors whose work I value while maintaining my preferred reading environment:
1. Schedule "engagement days" to visit platforms directly to Like or Comment on their publications, a few days or weeks after they have been posted.
2. Send personalised messages to authors whose work has impacted me.
3. Amplify writing pieces through other channels I use, so that others can enjoy these too.
4. Construct a commonplace book where I manually record my reading highlights rather than relying solely on automated systems to record that I’ve read an article.
This last idea particularly intrigues me. What if I developed a more intentional process for revisiting newsletters a few days after reading them? I could create a repeating prompt asking me to consider what ideas or quotes stood out in a particular piece of writing (although I have a vague feeling this might already be a thing in Readwise. Let me know in the comments!).
This deliberate reflection might generate more meaningful feedback than an immediate reaction, benefiting both the creator and deepening my own engagement with their material. Regardless of whether it already exists, it sounds like a good programming challenge!
Start as I mean to go on: regular reads I think are worth your time
After acknowledging that my reading data doesn't go back to the authors I subscribe to, it would be remiss of me not to highlight some of my current subscriptions (not just on Substack). Each of these provides unique value:
Thought Shrapnel by Doug Belshaw - Doug expertly curates an accurately self-described eclectic mix exploring profound ideas: from the ripple effects of our existence to democracy's cycles, technological ethics, and climate adaptation. His weekly roundups on creativity, free speech, and our collective future always draw me in.
Creative Differences by Donald Farmer - Donald has been a leader in the field of data analysis, innovation and strategy for quite a while now. He uses his Creative Differences posts to challenge his own thinking in these fields. One of the few subscriptions where I find myself talking out loud as if in response (which is fine in the safety of your own home, but less acceptable at a crowded beach).
Positively Malajusted by Kenneth Primrose - Through this blog, which co-exists with the Examined Life Podcast, Kenny explores the conscious rejection of societal norms that conflict with deeper values. I particularly enjoyed his most recent post reflecting on a recent conversation with Anna Lembke about ensuring healthy relationships between pain and pleasure (which might well have been a catalyst for this post now that I think about it!).
I invite you to explore these newsletters whether on their original platforms or through whatever reading environment works best for you. If something resonates deeply, please consider reaching out to the author. Not because it's your obligation or payment due, but because a meaningful connection can enrich both sides of the creative exchange.
In reflecting on this reader-creator dynamic, I've concluded that while there's no obligation to engage, there is value in connection. My Kobo and the awesome Pocket integration will remain my primary reading space, but I'll make more intentional efforts to reach back across the digital divide when something truly resonates.
Perhaps the ideal relationship isn't one of obligation but of reciprocity: taking what enriches us and, when moved to do so, offering something meaningful in return. After all, digital content exists in an ecosystem, not an individual transaction.
The newsletters I read have shaped my thinking in ways large and small. Acknowledging that influence through occasional, thoughtful engagement feels less like responsibility and more like gratitude expressed. And in a digital landscape often defined by metrics and algorithms, genuine human connection (however infrequent) might be the most valuable currency of all.
Have a great week xx
Lovely post - and I really appreciate the mention, I'm glad it's of value! The main reason I write is because it helps me figure out what I think, Substack feels as good a place as any to do that.