Audience Hackers vs Craftsmen

You’re either a content person or a business person. You can’t be both.

Or so Substack wants you to believe.

I was reading Brian Morrissey’s recap of last week’s newsletter conference which I didn’t think would be that interesting…until he pointed out that Substack (the platform and the creators) was notably missing from the event.

Why?

Brian says it’s because “Substack is home to the craftsmen.” Craftsmen who are not concerned with such silly things as acquisition or revenue. Leave that to the “audience hackers” over at beehiiv!

I buy this explanation. But I want to talk about this false dichotomy.

“Let writers focus on writing.”

This has long been the promise of Substack. It sounds good at first but it has one fatal flaw: who’s running the business?

After Ryan Broderick moved Garbage Day from Substack to beehiiv last year, he did an interview with Francis Zierer of Creator Spotlight where he talked about what it was like seeing his passion project turn into a media company.

Ryan describes it as going from “big fish in small pond” (Substack) to “swimming in the deep blue sea of the internet.” (beehiiv)

The training wheels of Substack were off now and it was time to fly.

He had to figure out where new readers would come from and how to keep converting them into paying subscribers.

Except that Ryan already knew how to do this.

Garbage Day launched 3 years before writer recommendations were even a feature on Substack, meaning that every single subscriber before 2022 was brought in by Ryan’s own marketing efforts, earned media from peers and readers spreading the word on their own. The only audience growth mechanic Substack had back then was a Twitter automation that made it easier for your followers to find you on their platform which, again, would have been from Ryan’s existing audience.

Substack’s founders will take credit for Ryan’s success just like they take credit for the 11 subscribers on my fake test publication, all of whom are real life friends following my antics.

They want you to buy into the narrative that you are a writer—not a business owner—and that they alone are responsible for your audience and your growth.

Hamish McKenzie, Substack’s co-founder, reinforces this by abstracting their lackluster set of business tools into something he calls “magic dust”—because you, dear craftsmen, could not possibly understand what’s under the hood.

Don’t worry yourself with that. Just keep writing. And bring your friends!

Wait, but what actually is the “magic dust”?

It’s stuff like modals and discounts and a referral program. Tools that are widely available on many publishing platforms. Show a pop up, offer a discount, ask a reader to tell a friend. No magic required.

Substack wants you to be intrigued and confused by “magic dust” because they benefit from you releasing the reins of your business over to them.

They are backed by some of Silicon Valley’s most notorious investors and, they need to feed the beast of their own growth engine. At this point, that means getting as many engaged users as possible, since their revenue trajectory has no hockey stick coming its way.

Does this sound familiar? Because this is exactly how journalism got to a place where it needed to be “saved.”

We trusted the business guys and they sold us out to private equity.

Now, we need more writers who aren’t afraid of business.

Nearly a decade ago, I got on this same soapbox for designers. Designers were constantly talking about how disempowered and underpaid they were so it made sense to me that we should get more involved in how design makes companies money.

Many designers pushed back on me about “craft” then too. Some didn’t want to learn the business. Design should speak for itself. How could we create things for our audience if we were also focused on the revenue potential?

I’d ask a different question. Why can’t we bring our craft to the business side?

I’m not the only one thinking this way.

A new class of publishers have been born out of this question and they are answering it beautifully.

• Evette Dionne of The Flytrap spelling out how to put your money where your mouth is.

• Rascal running a Twitch stream on the state of their business.

• Nathan Tankus giving followers a play by play of the next milestone to get a physical office.

• The 51st sharing cancellations in public and using them to drive new support.

• Amy Bushatz of The Mat-Su Sentinel explaining to readers that bodycam footage costs $1000.

The craftsmen can become the audience hackers.

Substack’s emblematic of this perceived division between writing and business, but it’s a mindset that runs deep in journalism too. A paradigm holdover from legacy newsrooms.

You don’t have to choose between writing and business, and if you do want your writing to be a business, then you don’t want that business to be left to the whims of a tech company.

We need more writers to get into business. We need more writers starting businesses and we need more writers talking about business. The skill gap is actually pretty small. The barrier we’re facing here is nearly all mental.

Do business your way. Bring your craft to it. And know that the only thing behind “magic dust” is a bunch of hot air.

P.S. Coming up Tuesday: Thinking about Facebook ads or beehiiv boosts? Join our session on paid ads to grow your newsletter. Register for free.