On Introductions, Workin' It, and Writing For Free
Plus, SNL's "The White Potus," Mumford's most Mumfordy album yet, and "raise your hand if you're SURE!"
Currently overthinking…
…this intro!
I don’t want to be one of those writers who write about writing. There are enough of them out there, and while I personally appreciate them, I’d imagine it’d be boring for the rest of you. I do, however, strive to be a writer who stays on brand and, well, this week I’m overthinking my writing strategy. If I’m honest, I’ve been overthinking it for a while.
Now that everyone and their Uncle Karen (great letter, btw) are on Substack, I am faced with even more self-inflicted pressure to write the thing that makes the readers (that’d be you—Hi!) feel. But also, hopefully, click the little heart icon, leave a comment, or support my efforts via a paid subscription. Sure, I write for myself. But, really, I write for the people. To relate, to learn, and to entertain. Also, I write to get paid. Writing (and editing) is how I make a living. Or have attempted to.
Now, I realize many of you receiving this newsletter in your inboxes may not even understand what “Substack” is and how it may now contribute to my making a living, so let me back up a moment and educate the Boomers. Feel free to skip ahead if you’re otherwise in the know.
Substack is a self-publishing platform that allows creators to publish work without an “overlord” and earn direct income on said work. They can publish via a subscriber list through email and/or directly to the web where those not on the subscriber list can also read the work. Sometimes it’s public (aka free); sometimes it’s behind a paywall akin to a magazine or newspaper subscription. Essentially, it’s blog-adjacent technology, but with email, social media, and paid components.
Substack, which launched in 2017 and has grown exponentially over the last year, appeals to all types of creators, big and small, acclaimed and amateur: writers, chefs, illustrators, filmmakers, etc. But its original target, and the majority of its user base, are those who tinker with words.
Ever since I transitioned Overthinking It from Mailchimp (an email-only platform without a pay model), I’ve struggled with what to do with it, specifically here in the introduction, as I strove to maintain continuity and reader loyalty, along with my sanity as a professional journalist.
The rest of the OG OI Friday letter/post is fairly simple for me to propagate. In the time between sending/publishing these missives, I collect articles I read, videos I watch, music I listen to, and more, filling up the space below in list form in the hopes of providing a nice little curated selection of culture for you to consume. It’s still work, to be sure. But it’s no-skin-off-my-back work that I can do while juggling other assignments, clients, and priorities.
The intro, however, which let’s be honest, is more of an essay (that you’ve also told me is your favorite part!), is another story. Sometimes I write them in an hour and edit them over a few days. Sometimes I write them over a week and edit them over a few weeks. All the while dropping eggs in dozens of other baskets. (Happy Easter to those who celebrate, btw.) They take time. They take energy. They take…thought. Lots of it.
Since I’m already accustomed to putting together pitches for stories, sending them out to editors, waiting for them to respond, following up when they don’t, or then researching, writing, and editing something I’ve been (praise be) commissioned and—then rinsing and repeating—it’s hard to fathom composing something “for free.” Even if doing so eliminates many of the arguably challenging aforementioned steps. It’s not that your eyeballs don’t matter. It’s just that your eyeballs don’t pay my rent. At least not yet, no matter how many times I (politely!) make a plea for you to help an artist out. And I get it! It’s hard enough for me to put a value on my work. Plus, there’s so much out there to consume these days. Substack itself has become saturated with options I can’t even keep up with, which is why I recently launched Word Doc.
You see my conundrum, right?
If I spend time working on something to publish here publicly for free, more people may read it. (Key word: “may.”) But that’s time I didn’t spend seeking income, which I’m struggling with at the moment.
If I put it behind a paywall, that limits the number of views, but at least shows gratitude to those willing to compensate me for my efforts. (Thanks to the 60-something of you who fall into this category!)
If I try and sell it elsewhere in the hopes of a) getting paid and b) reaching a larger audience, I’m back at square one trying to find something to write about and, also, not nurturing the possibilities of this new-age publishing platform and succumbing to the often archaic and laborious processes of the OG media model.
I feel caught between two worlds.
When an idea finally came to me for this week’s intro, I feverishly spent an entire day working on it. I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t even change out of my pajamas. This is what writers hope for! The spark! The rush! The time to be able to devote to it! Then I asked two friends to read it because every writer needs someone to review their work, and both said: “You should try and pitch this to The Times.”
This is also what every writer hopes for! Praise! And also, The Times! (At least, it used to be.) But also…now here we go again. I filled the space! I wrote something that I liked! I wrote something that other people liked, and think even more people will, too! But damn, money for my efforts sure would be helpful. More readers, too…
So I put my thing down, flipped it, and reversed it. I pitched it to The Times and now I wait. Will it be worth it? I don’t know. But let me work it, I guess.
In the meantime, the intro went back to being a Blank Space because most publications won’t publish something that’s already been published. (This wasn’t always the case with self-published work, but ask me how many times I’ve uttered “this wasn’t always the case” since becoming a journalist 20+ years ago.) Also, FWIW, you don’t simultaneously pitch. Meaning, let’s say I could see this essay in The Times, but also New York magazine; I would not send it to both at the same time for consideration. It would certainly be more efficient for me to do so, but it’s rude and tacky to the outlets you’re pursuing. Publications want to think your idea is unique to them, and the ideas should be—even if, let’s be honest, a quick rephrase can redirect them appropriately. Editors also want and deserve the chance to consider ideas without competitive pressure. (That said, it’d certainly be lovely if said consideration took less than a week or two, which is generally how long I wait to follow up after hearing crickets.)
Back to the Blank Space. One of the friends who read the essay said, “You should just always write about what you’re overthinking in the intro.” I countered by saying I feel like I already do that? Only maybe it’s not always so clear? It’s definitely not always this meta. But, hey, for lack of a less overused phrase: Everything is copy.
So there you have it. A newly formatted “introduction” that is way longer than any introduction needs to be. But at least I’m proud of this big-little musing, too. If I don’t end up selling the essay elsewhere, I may publish it here as I did with a recent piece about flirting with a bot, which I also shopped around first. Perhaps then you’ll consider putting a few bucks in my proverbial tip jar. Either way, I remain glad you’re here in any form—especially if you’re new and especially if you’ve read this far! (Please keep scrolling because there are lots of non-writerly goodies below.) And if you’re a fellow writer out here fighting the good fight: I see you, I hope to read you, and I wish you well as you work it. Bon week-end mes amies. xx — Sara
Also overthinking this week…
…whether an introduction about overthinking an introduction is too meta…whether to order 12 months’ worth of contacts and save $20, or 6 months since I’m so bad at changing them regularly anyway…whether to continue with the weekly meal service, Cook Unity…whether to upgrade my ClassPass plan because I’m using up all my monthly points before the month is over…
Clickable
Bill Maher on Trump? “It’s all part of the manipulation.” |
An argument against the 20-photo carousel. |
The beauty and sadness of miscarriage and motherhood. | The Atlantic (gift link)
When did salt get so bougie? | The Atlantic (gift link)
On the Paris Checklist: “It’s all croissant, no crumbs.” |
Not gonna lie: I’d recreate some of my childhood outfits, too. | The Cut
It’s not all love and marriage over at The Knot. | The New Yorker
Watchable
ICYMI, SNL’s recent parody of The White Lotus with the series’ lead characters portraying the Trumps (and their hangers-on) is hilariously spot-on in all its cringe-inducing glory. Also, good question: Where IS Ivanka (played by a meditating Scarlett Johansson in this skit)? They managed to get every detail—from Trump’s “King” shirt in place of Timothy Ratliff’s “Duke” shirt to Aimee Lou Wood’s teeth. Though some people, including the actress, are calling foul on that one for its unnecessary low-blow. To her point: “The joke was about fluoride. I have big gap teeth, not bad teeth.” What say you?
My brother sent me this fun parody of what’s likely going on in the kitchen when a chef finds out a diner is being a diva because he knows I am, shamelessly, “The Diner Who Changes Tables.” Admit it: You fall into at least one of these categories, too! Are you the diner who asks what the server’s favorite thing on the menu is? (Please no! Who cares? It’s all subjective. Choose for yourself!) Or, are you the diner who wags their finger to get the server’s attention? (This used to be my Dad, but he did more of a slow wave, and we put the kibosh on it.) Great for a chuckle.
Listenable: Mumford & Sons, “Rushmere”
I’ve pretty much had this album on non-stop since it came out. It’s the most Mumford Mumford album I’ve heard in a long while. One might say all the songs sound, well, familiar. They wouldn’t be wrong. But isn’t that what we want from bands whose unique sounds we initially fell in love with? A bit of “same same, but different”? It opens with the chilling hummer, “Malibu,” picks up a bit with “Caroline” and “Rushmere,” and then cradles us again with “Monochrone.” Lots of ebbs and flows. My favorite ditty is “Where It Belongs”—especially these lyrics, which we could all use to ask ourselves from time to time:
“When you speak, do you think you can do it kindly? Or does your anger overwhelm? / When you’re weak, do you ever think of living wildly? Let your anger go to hell…where it belongs.”
Souvenir: Sure Deodorant
I’m all out of my French deodorant (Vichy Anti-Perspirant Deodorant for Sensitive Skin 48h Protection) and don’t have any friends coming to New York soon, which got me thinkin’ about trying something else in the States, which got me thinkin’ about SURE and the memorable (if not annoyingly catchy) “raise your hand if you’re SURE!” commercial from the late ’80s. I’m pretty sure (whoop there it is—another good throwback, #iykyk) there isn’t a GenXer today who, when they see someone with a wet spot under their arms, doesn’t think to themselves: “I guess they’re not using SURE!”
My favorite deodorant too!
honestly, i didn't think making fun of her teeth was such a big deal. grow up if you're going to be in the public eye for goodness sakes. you have huge teeth - it's fine. go with it. 🤷🏻♀️