Why You Can't Equate Your Substack Posts to a Book

On the Staying Power of the Book

Substack is the second love affair I’ve had with a public writing platform. The first was Huffington Post, back when the writing public was encouraged to write for them (for free) and they’d highlight our posts on their various subject-specific landing pages. I worked hard to build a strong readership—and then it all went away when HuffPost decided to go another direction, only publishing essays and posts by writers who submitted to their editors. Fine, it was their right, but it was disappointing to those of us who were using their platform to amplify our messages.

Substack’s business model isn’t the same as HuffPost’s (thank goodness) and here many of us are, creating content week over week and amplifying our messages. I love the engagement and the community. But when I hear people saying that posting on Substack is better or more valuable than publishing a book, I balk. Substack cannot replace, approximate, or compare to what publishing a book does for a writer or a writer’s author platform.

I’ve seen some Substack evangelists asserting that they no longer care about publishing a book because they have far more readers here and far more engagement than they’d ever hope to have for a book. More readers and better engagement is what we all want, yes, but this way of thinking also elevates instant gratification culture and dismisses the role of the book in the more deeply entrenched part of our culture that honors history, tradition, and tangible objects of art. Not to mention, there is no amount of online writing one can do that will lend the legitimacy or perceived expertise we receive from being or becoming a published author. And technically, you can’t call yourself an author until you’ve published a book.

I’m not showing up this week to try to convince writers that their book-writing efforts are more important than posting here on Substack, but rather to showcase the enduring value of the book, and to attempt to offer reasonable ideas to counter some of the more attention-grabbing voices you’ll find on this platform.

Here are several reasons why your online efforts will never eclipse the value of your book or future book:

Books are objects of art. To create something that people can hold, spend time with, and absorb matters quite a lot to most aspiring authors. The way most of us feel about the most important or meaningful books we’ve read is close to holy. In our very online world, and even with audiobooks as a valuable other way to consume content, real books are (he)art objects.

Books are objects that endure. My coauthored book with Linda Joy Myers, Breaking Ground on Your Memoir, was published at the height of my HuffPost writing days. To find my articles on HuffPost, you’d really have to dig. They’re pretty much lost to the deep web. This book, on the other hand, sells well year over year. We recommend it to our students, readers find it on Amazon, and I can offer for people buy it—something you can’t do with an article or a post. Like many people, I have a lot of physical books, some of which I’ll never read again—but I hold onto them because they mean something to me in ways that online posts never could and never will.

Perceptions matter. Once you publish a book, you enter into a new echelon of respectability and expertise in the public’s eye. This is just a fact. It really doesn’t matter how you publish. Being a published author launches you into a realm above your counterparts who are not published. As such, you’re more likely to get invited to sit on panels, be on podcasts, and present your ideas in front of audiences when you have a published book. Even politicians, journalists, and regular columnists know this to be true, evidenced by the fact that all of them write and publish books.

Books still pay better. Another idea I’ve seen floated is that you can make more money on Substack than you can in book publishing, but I’d argue that’s true for the very select few. Most writers I know who are publishing on Substack, who are novelists and memoirists, don’t have the kind of content that’s going to garner a huge or prolonged readership. This isn’t because they’re not great writers—they are—but because readers don’t pay to watch writers explore personal narrative and fiction. As such, the people making the real bucks here are those who’ve figured out how to deliver something of real-world value to readers beyond stories and personal anecdotes. With a published novel or a memoir, by contrast, the value is inherent in the experience of the story, and readers are paying for that experience because they’re seeking it out. As such, the average writer will assuredly make a bigger return over time on book sales.

The journey itself changes you. I’m doing both things at once—working on my book (somewhat agonizingly) and writing my weekly Substacks (with great energy and enthusiasm). The former is harder, the latter more fun. But the memoir-writing is the soul work. It’s the stuff that’s challenging me, forcing me to confront hard questions, and ultimately also making me a more compassionate person as I consider my past and all the things that happened and why. It’s exciting to be posting on Substack, but the real honor is the journey of the book project. The vibes are different, for sure, but being with your content over a prolonged period of time changes your relationship to your story, to your words, and to the world in ways that are unique to a process that takes a particular kind of attention (not to mention revision).

With books, you engage with the experience, not the author. I know a lot of writers that love the interaction on Substack. Heck, I like it! The possibility for comments is a benefit, for sure. But let’s think about our readers for a moment, too. When I read a book, I want to just be immersed in my own reading experience. I want to be transported to new worlds or realms of experience. I love that I cannot project out to the world what I’m feeling as I’m feeling it. There’s something to be said from what we gain when we take on an indulgent read and then just sitting with its impact for a while. The old-school way.

Discoverability in #IRL is still a thing. Books can be discovered in the real-world, accessible to people who are not in the bubbles of particular platforms. Our audiences can feel large and tangible online, but I love the idea of a person finding books I wrote five or seven or ten years ago in a library, or stumbling across one of my titles on Amazon and getting a physical copy in the mail. Sometimes I hear from authors who’ve read my books, and it makes it fell worth all that effort that this many years later my books are still out there finding new readers.

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I’d love to hear from you if you’re a published author or on your way to becoming one. What matters to you about your book being in the world, or what’s most valuable to you about being or becoming an author? Share with me in the comments. I am looking for all the inspiration I can find on this topic for a future book 🤩!