⚠️ Warning: Professional Writers, Please Skip This

Quick disclaimer.

If you are a professional writer,

if you studied literature,

if you care deeply about prose, rhythm, and craft…

Please don’t read this article.

Seriously.

It’s a waste of your time.

I am not a professional writer.

I’m not even sure I’m a good writer.

I write the way I think: in systems, patterns, and blunt observations.

So this is not going to be elegant.

It’s going to be honest.

And probably a little messy.

So if your life revolves around literary excellence, beautiful sentences, and perfect structure…

Please.

Go back to your brilliant work.

This one isn’t for you.

I’ve been on Substack for a couple of months now.

Long enough to get the lay of the land.

The good.

The bad.

And… the very ugly.

So today, full disclosure: I’m mostly going to rant.

If you are deeply in love with Substack.

If you’re thriving here.

If this platform has changed your life.

You may want to keep scrolling.

But if you’re still in the early stages — or you’ve been here a while and are quietly thinking, “Is it just me?” — then this will probably make you nod along.

And if nothing else, maybe it’ll give you a good laugh on a Sunday.

Welcome to Substack: A Wildlife Documentary

When you first arrive on Substack, it feels promising.

Thoughtful writing.

Smart people.

Long-form ideas.

No algorithmic chaos.

And then, slowly, you realize…

There are species here.

Distinct tribes.

Clear patterns.

Predictable behaviors.

Let me introduce you.

1. The Top Writers Clique

Ah yes.

These are the top writers from Medium.com and X who migrated en masse when Substack opened up monetization.

They are:

• Excellent writers

• Highly consistent

• Extremely disciplined

• Very experienced

Writing is their full-time job.

So yes — they already have a massive advantage over you and me.

But that’s not all.

They also move in flocks.

They know each other.

Support each other.

Recommend each other.

Comment on each other’s posts.

Which means:

They never worry about engagement.

Because it’s baked in.

On top of that, they brought their audience from Medium or X.

So when they arrived on Substack, they didn’t start at zero.

They arrived with fans.

It’s not cheating.

It’s not unfair.

It’s just… a different league.

If you’re a founder, operator, or professional who writes “on the side,” comparing yourself to them is a guaranteed way to feel behind.

Don’t.

2. The “How to Grow on Substack” Crowd

This group appears very quickly in your feed.

They write about:

• Growth strategies

• Subscriber hacks

• Monetization tactics

• Engagement frameworks

All… on Substack.

Usually for people who also want to grow… on Substack.

It’s very circular.

It’s like:

“How to succeed at the thing we are all currently trying to succeed at.”

Some of it is useful.

Most of it is recycled.

A lot of it contradicts itself.

And almost none of it helps you if:

• You run a real business

• You advise companies

• You manage complexity

• You have an actual job

It’s creator economy content for creators.

If you’re not building a “personal brand business,” it gets old fast.

3. The “Hi, I’m New Here” Networkers

These posts usually look like this:

“Hi everyone! This is my first post. I’m excited to connect with like-minded people in [X]. I’ll support you if you support me!”

Cue 47 polite replies.

“Welcome!”

“Glad you’re here!”

“Looking forward to your work!”

And then…

Nothing happens.

No relationships.

No collaboration.

No meaningful exchange.

It’s networking cosplay.

Very well-intentioned.

Very low ROI.

4. The Monetization Mystics

These are the people who have “cracked the code.”

According to them.

They’ll tell you:

• How much they make

• How fast they grew

• What funnels they built

• Which pricing worked

And again…

Their audience is mostly other people who want to do the same thing.

Not founders.

Not operators.

Not executives.

Just aspiring Substack earners.

It’s not wrong.

It’s just very niche.

And very loud.

I wonder when the gold rush will be over.

5. The Personal Essay Cinematic Universe

This is where things get… emotional.

Here you’ll find:

• Divorce arcs

• Reinvention stories

• Trauma essays

• Identity resets

• “My life before and after…” narratives

Some are beautifully written.

Some are genuinely moving.

Many are… overshared.

Substack’s early success was built on this genre.

And it’s still everywhere.

If you’re wired for systems, strategy, and structure, this layer can feel overwhelming.

If you didn’t come for the memoir festival filled with menopause and betrayal tales, you have now been warned: you are in for a rude awakening. This isn’t LinkedIn and things get very mushy here.

6. The Quiet Operators (Blink and You’ll Miss Them)

This is the group most people never find. Ironically, this is the crowd that I identify most with.

Founders.

Investors.

Analysts.

Builders.

Practitioners.

People who:

• Have actually shipped things

• Run teams

• Own decisions

• Think long-term

They write rarely.

They promote little.

They don’t optimize for engagement.

Their work doesn’t “perform.”

But it compounds.

This is the layer worth finding.

And it won’t be handed to you by the algorithm.

Substack Is Actually Three Platforms in One

Once I realized this, everything made sense.

Substack isn’t one ecosystem.

It’s three stacked together:

1. The Creator Economy Layer (loudest)

2. The Personal Essay Layer (emotional)

3. The Operator Layer (quietest)

Most people get stuck in the first two.

The third requires effort.

Why the Feed Feels So Exhausting

Substack rewards:

• Replies

• Recommends

• Reciprocity

• Emotion

Not necessarily:

• Depth

• Experience

• Rigor

• Long-term thinking

So the most visible content is often the most reactive.

Not the most valuable.

That’s not malicious.

It’s structural.

How I’m Fixing My Feed

Here’s what actually helped.

1. Ruthless Unfollowing

If someone mainly writes about:

• Growing on Substack

• Monetizing Substack

• Building an audience

I unfollow. I unsubscribe. I filter.

No guilt.

Your feed is your mental diet.

2. Manual Discovery

I stopped trusting “Recommended.”

Instead:

Find one smart person.

See who they read.

Repeat.

It compounds quietly.

3. Inbox Over Feed

For writers I value, I read via email.

The feed is for stimulation.

The inbox is for substance.

4. Reframing the Platform

For me, Substack is not a hustle.

It’s:

• An archive

• A thinking space

• A distribution layer

• A credibility asset

It’s infrastructure.

Not a lottery ticket.

Final Thought

If your feed feels cringe, you’re not broken.

You’re not cynical.

You’re not negative.

You’re reacting to low signal.

That’s discernment.

Substack has incredible people on it.

It is worth sticking around.

It’s just the best people aren’t always optimized for discovery.

You’ll have to hunt through the junk, the money hustlers, the drama, and the Substack tips to weed out the quiet, intelligent operators.

So don’t quit.

Curate.

Build your own map.

And enjoy the wildlife along the way.

If you nodded along while reading this, you’re probably my kind of reader.

I write for founders, operators, and leaders who are building real things — companies, teams, systems — and who care more about clarity than clicks.

No growth hacks.

No creator drama.

No performative hustle.

Just practical thinking about how businesses actually scale.

If that’s you, you’re very welcome here.

Subscribe. We’ll get along.