Monday, August 01, 2022

Meta Story

There used to be a hummingbird that hovered outside my window. But it hasn’t been there lately. 

It has been about nine months since I started to transition this little daily essay-writing project of mine from Facebook to Substack and the results are decidedly mixed. As a writing interface, Substack is a much better fit, plus I can provide links to the articles I curate.

Of course, most of those links just smash into paywalls.

And the barrier to entry at Substrack is high — readers have to add my Substack page to their daily reading habits, which only a fraction of the people I know on Facebook have chosen to do.

I get it, totally. Facebook has long since become a daily habit for many people, myself included. It’s free and it’s easy. (Important note: It’s not really “free” because Meta gets our personal data and that is worth billions. But that is in the fine print. And none of us read the fine print.)

The best part about publishing on Facebook is the comment section. Some of the best conversations I ever have about the topics I write about come there. That includes under yesterday’s post, “The Ghosts of Balkh,” which is probably as good a column as I am capable of writing. It drew some great comments.

By contrast, few people comment here on Substack. Writing can often feel like whispering into a vacuum. Then again, at Substack people can “subscribe,’ which is free or paid (their choice) and in return they get an email newsletter every morning.. 

Of course, one more email in your daily inbox is hardly anyone’s idea of an ideal service. It can smack of marketing, or junk mail, of which we all get way too much. 

Come to think of it, why should anyone pay for content? Ever since the dawn of the web, the content provided by journalists is no longer protected by the scarcity or exclusivity of the old media era. 

Those days are gone. The title of my memoir will be “The Last Journalist.”

A neighbor recently mentioned that she saw a hummingbird lying in the street a few days ago, unable to fly. Maybe it had hit something, or maybe a bigger bird like a crow hit it.

Anyway, when she looked again later on, it was gone. 

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TODAY’s LYRIC:

“Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.” — Kris Kristofferson

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