The great big Substack etiquette ruse

It seems like mere moments ago that I was declaring I was going to calm down the hungry inferno that is my brain. It also seems that this very same brain wants to say some more things. I promise that I will (try to) stop soon. Actually, I’ve noticed that companies like Royal Mail have started saying ‘we aim’ rather than ‘we will’, so in l'esprit de l'époque I declare that I very much ‘aim’ to stop having opinions. Also very much in l’esprit de l’époque I will almost certainly fail in aforesaid aim, because I was never that fussed about delivering on my promise in the first place.

Since I’ve been spending more time on this platform, I’ve noticed a few Subbers Etiquette Guides that I see floating around every few days. Now, I went to an all girls school where the uniform was purple and green to represent O.G. Riot Grrrls the Suffragettes, and it turns out that it was really useful to have to been taught to think for myself rather than just unquestioningly go along with overarching diktats from the mysterious but ever-opinionated ‘above’.

I hereby evoke the spirit of suffra-jitsu practitioner Edith Garrud to inform you that I would like to examine a couple of the Substack gatekeeping etiquette points that I find a bit fishy.

The edict under Judge Jessy’s scrutiny?

THOU SHALT NOT LINK TO THINE OWN WORK IN THE COMMENTS OF ANOTHER WRITER

Before I get going, I want to say that everything in this post is delivered from the place of being the first (and still only) woman to have won a Games Music BAFTA. If I’d have submissively gone along with what I was supposed to do or be able to achieve, that simply wouldn’t have been possible.

Leading up to the awards I had endured months of the most unimaginable death and rape threats and I was exhausted. Just before the photo below was taken I had tripped and fallen flat on my face on my way to the stage. My proudest moment of the night was dusting myself off and styling it out in front of those rows and rows of disapproving, tuxedo’d execs. One of them spat on me as I came off the stage, BAFTA in hand.

What I’m trying to say is that when you’ve been dubbed the cancer that is killing the games industry, a few Substack etiquette decrees don’t pose too much of a threat.

Back to the grand proclamation that prompted all this:

THOU SHALT NOT LINK TO THINE OWN WORK IN THE COMMENTS

Huh? Why? Really. Why?

Yes, it’s time to go DEEP THROAT. (Nixon not porn.) My late-step dad taught me never just to go along with accepted wisdom, but always to ask first, “cui bono”- who benefits? So, I’m going to ask you to dig deep into your overworked brainboxes to think about who -and why - people might have a vested interest in you not linking your own work to theirs. I wrote something a while back that may give you an idea as to my thoughts on the matter:

I’ve realised that ‘beggy’ is a term often used by posh and rich people who have never had to ask for anything in their whole life, because they already have it all. Identifying that you need help is inherently Non-U. (Non-upper class.) This grotesque descriptor, created by ur-posho Nancy Mitford, shows us that for the silver spoon club there is simply nothing grubbier than being seen to be trying too hard. Effort is for the poor, don’t you know, darling and help is what you call the staff. Posh folk know that if we create supportive, generous communities where we ask each other for opportunities and contacts then maybe they will have to compete on an even playing field. And let me break this to you: they’re usually not as good at us at stuff because they’ve never even had to try.

Almost everything I’ve achieved in my life has come about by my kicking down doors that said in massive letters, ‘people like you shouldn’t come through this door. Actually, don’t even look at this door. Listen, can you just move away from the door because my talentless second cousin Tarquin wants to undeservedly glide through it. Why do you keep talking about a door? What door? There is no door. Why do you simply keep insisting on striding through a door that doesn’t exist? Well, okay, you’re right, there is a door but I will call the police if you try and go through it’. (Yes, it’s a very big door with lots of room on for writing on it.) What I’m trying to say with my extended Partridgian door metaphor is that I think it really should be okay to ask people if you could potentially add mutual value to each other’s lives. Don’t let people make you feel embarrassed by that. It’s good to try!

I think that if your Substack isn’t a conversation then it’s basically just shouting. So if you think that you’ve written something that will bring joy/add another voice/make someone feel less alone, then I say defy the etiquette that has been DECIDED FOR YOU and whack it in the comments!

I know I go on about this a lot, but as a woman who worked in tech for a long time I can only keep shouting this into your faces- the big corps fear and loathe human connection more than anything else- they spend BILLIONS each year trying to eradicate it. (Note to self- your frothing capitalisation must be calmed because you are beginning to sound like Truth Social.) We are more controllable when we are separated: why do you think solitary confinement has been used by every fascist dictatorship throughout history? We are dangerous when we come together because we can mobilise. (Yes, I am a fun dinner party guest.)

On a happier note…

THE JOY IS IN THE FRIENDS WE MADE ALONG THE WAY

I bloody love it when people link to their writing in my comments- it means that I’ve said something that speaks to them and that they were engaged/moved/entertained enough to want to connect with me and show me the thing that they made. Isn’t one of life’s deepest and greatest pleasures finding other people who went, “oh, I think/like that too?’ THIS IS HOW CONNECTION WORKS! It’s like when you were in Year 4 and you had a fantastic melon rubber that smelled of actual melon, and then a girl you’d only seen across the playground would shyly come over and show you her grape rubber. It’s how lasting friendships are born.

To be honest, even if I didn’t love people dropping their writing into my comments, no one has my head forced down a toilet forcing me to read it. Substack is not Borstal! So, it does make me laugh that this faux pas has somehow rapidly become more horrific than if I’d gone up to a fellow writer, pulled down my pants and produced a little stool. "She linked to her writing? Oh, how gauche, how gross, how grubby. Piggybacking on my success- what a skank. Blocked!” And we’re back to the ones who often already have it all making it clear that it is déclassé to be seen to be trying or reaching out.

I really don’t believe in scarcity mindsets - they’re just tattered pages from a fear-led Capitalist playbook that means we all waste time and energy fighting each other rather than tackling the actual bad guys. When the internet started it was a glorious playground for connection and communication, and we can make Substack that place if we stop obsessing over status and hoarding what we have. Not everything is a grift! We don’t have to unthinkingly inherit the cynicism and suspicion of the worst people on the planet. There is enough for everyone if we share.

It leads on to another Substack exclusion zone etiquette point- the much repeated ‘if you don’t like something, then just move on.’ Again, this really isn’t how conversations work. It’s why I can’t stand voice notes- they’re not conversations, they’re monologues. Conversations are messy, sometimes frustrating, they involve interruptions, eye rolls, laughter, empathic listening, awkward pauses. And crucially, they are how we learn to tolerate one another- we hear and consider voices and experiences other than our own. I don’t think that Substack should be a frictionless experience-I am so much more excited by the idea of a literary salon, a place where there are healthy debates and robust, respectful exchanges of ideas.

I begin to tire. But with my last frenetic breaths I want to briefly talk about the Substack fête. I found the photos of the event rather dispiriting and linked to all of the above. Because…

a) it looked like you had to have the name of a flower to be invited

b) I haven’t been able to spot one person in a wheelchair- where were the incredible disabled writers of Substack?

c) it looked so frigging empty!

All those acres of green that could have been filled with people and laughter! But I suppose that’s the point. The rich, the famous and the posh have always had big, empty estates as a flex- they don’t need the space but they own it anyway- and we very much aren’t invited in. But when I looked at the party, all I could think was….

Come on Substack- be a bit more rock and roll! You could have concocted a bash for the ages, but instead it looked a little bit like a sister-wife convention. Their evocation of 1950’s Britain reminded me of the all the jigsaws that I completed when I was convalescing- the British obsession with nostalgia that was…shhhh….whisper it…actually nothing more than a fervent longing to return to the green and pleasant land of Empire and colonialism, a pre-immigration Jerusalem. The Women’s Institute coded party seemed like it was designed precisely so that the women on this platform don’t rise up. Where were the baddies?

_{(Apologies and shout-out to any baddies who did attend.)}

Those photos brought out every single Socialist bone in my body and I absolutely longed to attend so I could cosplay as Madonna playing Evita as she surveys the English at a garden party in Argentina:

The chorus girl hasn't learned the lines you'd like to hear
She won't go scrambling over the backs of the poor to be accepted
She won’t join your clubs, she won’t dance in your halls
She won’t help the hungry once a month at your tombolas
She’ll simply take control as
You disappear

I’m done.

TL:DR Writers of Substack- don’t be cowed! You don’t have to obey the uptight and slightly weird instructions of a few people at the top of the food chain! Link, chat, rebel, find mates, share, rabble-rouse, muster, collaborate, laugh, grow, learn.

¡Viva la Substack Revolución!

As ever, you show your support and love to me by liking, re-stacking and sharing my work. Please, though, do refrain from adding links to your work in my comments.