Just What Is Worth Your Time, And Mine?

The Struggle for Substack Relevance is Real…So I’ve Avoided It Altogether

Test, test, this is only a test.

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve put fingers to keyboard as a Substack “author.” As with so many things in my life and perhaps yours, I lost the thread, or rather, let it wither due to a particularly nefarious brand of unfocused laziness that festered during the “Covid time” (as if it has really passed) and found its strongest purchase in the fibers of my literary muscles.

Because, you know, writing is hard. Or so says just about every writer ever. And it is, especially if you tell yourself it is. But when you tell yourself it’s fun and a matter of mental health maintenance, a way to scrape the cobwebs out of one’s brain on a regular basis, that old “hard work” excuse melts away.

Where does the path lead, and is the mountain worth climbing?

After all, while it’s a thought-by-thought, word-by-word, letter-by-letter grind, writing should be fun. Otherwise, why do it? (Thank you to fellow Substacker and ACTUAL writer George Saunders, whose twice-weekly Story Club is like sitting in on one of his Syracuse master classes, for that reminder.) And if you finally agree that it is fun, why do it on this platform, which sold and continues to sell itself as the ultimate savior of freelance scribes, the key to untold, unchained monetary gain, even though that appears to be true for a very slim percentage of Substackers — specifically those who keep the subject matter of their content quite focused according to their real or perceived expertise, and even more specifically, those who arrived on the scene with thousands or perhaps millions of built-in followers and potential five-bucks-a-month subscribers?

That’s what I’m here to figure out, at age 62, as I mull whether to pursue the next phase of my professional writing career, or chuck the word “professional” altogether. I’ve been writing for pay since I was a kid, publishing my first newspaper article when I was maybe 15 — a short, un-bylined sports piece in the Inyo Register — and my first magazine article as a student at California State University, Chico. But for most of my career, I’ve been judge, jury and executioner for my stuff, writing stories for magazines I edited or published as a salaried employee. So I got spoiled over the decades. Yes, I’ve published freelance pieces, mostly in the golf/travel realm, but never considered myself a bona fide, card-carrying full-time writer. And I still don’t, a nagging case of imposter syndrome that continues to corrode my confidence.

That’s nothing new among writers. Self-doubt is part of our unwritten contract with the elusive muse. But I seem to not only feed but welcome a crippling version that keeps me from regularly sitting (or standing) here to bear grudging witness to whatever spews forth from my tangled mind. And so, it’s been a year, and here I am, expecting you to give a damn.

If you’ve bothered to read this far, perhaps you do, perhaps not. We are all so bombarded with that dangerous and watered-down word content every waking hour of the day — stuff we read, watch, hear, overhear, scroll across, click on or avoid clicking on — that we are forced to be ruthless editors. If we’re gonna stick it out for the duration of a piece whether it’s 200 words or 15,000, it had better be “good,” whatever that means at the moment. Illuminating insight? Incendiary challenge? Indispensable new knowledge? Simple, satisfying entertainment? Or just another leaky life raft that we hope will carry us to some shore of satisfaction but ultimately leave us gasping for sustenance, deliverance, meaning?

I offer no golden rule of what “good” is. Good is subjective, of course. But I know what isn’t good: Lies passed off as fact, or repeated and swallowed so often that they come ridiculously close to being digested and regurgitated as fact. We’ve had so much of such garbage thrown at us from the highest levels of influence, and so much of that garbage doused in the cheap perfume of political allegiance — far more so on the right than the left — that, at some point, everything starts to carry the stench of uncertainty or illegitimacy. That’s not good for anyone, for writers or readers or seekers of truth of any kind, and certainly not for a powerful but fragile democratic system like America’s.

But even worse is letting the lies — and the manufactured fears that foment most of them — fester without adequate answer from the “watchdog” media, and from all of us who truly care about keeping what’s left of our republic intact. My own uncertainty of how or why to chronicle my own thoughts about the world we live in at such a bizarre historical moment without turning this space into just another political screed has partially fed into my self-imposed Substack exile. That, and own manufactured fear that my answers to the lies, however forcefully or gently expressed, might drive certain friends and family away.

At any rate, should I continue in this forum, I’ll never lie, unless it’s a clearly stated a “fun lie,” as in flat-out fiction. Which is one possible future iteration of this Substack experiment.

Which leads me to the question: Assuming you want to see my musings show up in your already overstuffed email box at all, what subjects or themes would draw and keep your interest, and maybe, just maybe, way down the road (but not too far), spur you to spend a few bucks each month for the privilege?

Like every human being, I have plenty of interests, and more than a few passions, to explore and share, and at least a few working tools from what Stephen King called the writer’s “toolbox” at my disposal. I could just continue down my original Substack-as-literary-Swiss-army-knife path and offer wisdom and wit on whatever — including my acute affinity for alliteration. Or, I could write regularly about …

Golf: Obvious, given my 20-plus-year history as a “professional” (see above) golf journalist. I could pass as an authority, and with some work, connections and goodwill, I might even manage to leverage my (fading) name value into a going Substack concern. But is it too narrow? Too boring for a lot of people, even with the recent and ongoing PGA Tour vs. LIV shitshow?

Travel: Maybe my favorite thing to write about, and probably the easiest subject to reboot with some judicious updates to past features I’ve done, mostly in the golf realm. But at some point I’d actually have to add new places and experiences to my repertoire, preferably with my bride at my side, and that’s expensive — unless, of course, I had such a massive Substack following that I’d be invited to all the world’s great places as the respected authority I clearly am.

Sports in general: More than two decades ago, when I developed a weekly sports betting section for Fun & Gaming magazine, I wrote a column under the nom de plume Hack Alexander. I loved it, and love sports still and always. Bringing “Hack” back to life would be fun.

Popular culture: Broad, yes, and loaded with landmines. Maybe you don’t need another TV/Music/Movies/Books/Whatever critic. Maybe I don’t need another critic. But again, my distant history as an entertainment reviewer still holds some glow, and plenty of fun memories.

Politics: About those landmines …

Food: I also used to review Reno-Tahoe restaurants, and have since taught myself to cook at a serviceable level, but again, there are a million food writers.

Nevada and the West: I’m Californian by birth and been a Nevadan since 1984. I love modern western writing — non-fiction, fiction, poetry, essays, environmental stuff, politics, history — and tossing my hat in that fascinating regional ring has its appeal.

Modern Manhood: As a modern man (some might argue the point), I’ve written off and on about this fraught but fertile subject, mostly through a faith-based lens, so I guess I qualify.

Serialized Memoir: I’m nearly 20,000 words into a story begun years ago in memory and honor of my dad, though it has some elements of broader family saga. So I’ve got a helluva head start, and putting it out there in regular bits would spur me to actually get back to it and keep going, and find out where my memories and emotions lead me, and whoever cares to follow along. Big question: Despite my deep belief that everyone has a worthy story to tell, who cares besides me and my family members?

Flash or Serialized Fiction: The aforementioned “fun lies,” and the highest tightrope for me as I’ve never published any fiction, though I’ve started several novels. So there’s every possibility the stuff would be godawful.

All of the above: In other words, the (recently dormant) status quo.

I claim no credentialed “authority” in any of these areas, or in a dozen more I could put forth as regular Substack fodder. I’m just a curious and restless soul who loves to mess with words even though, yes, it’s hard work.

So, again and finally, the question: What would you like to read? Or does it matter at all, especially after nearly a year of crickets?

If it does matter, even a little, I await your thoughts, including ideas I haven’t listed. And if it matters more than just a little, please share with a friend or two, with whatever endorsement you’re willing to add. I hear that’s how Substack is supposed to work, after all.

If I get a wide range of ideas, I’ll have my answer. If I get crickets in return, I’ll have my answer, too.