About?...

About!

Image: Dream (1905), Joan Brull i Vinyoles

Courtesy of Artvee

Last week, after an early morning surge of inspiration at 4 AM, I finally revised the “About“ section of my Substack publication – a task I have been struggling with since starting it in 2023.

At the time of launching “Stories”, I was in the midst of completely losing/finding my way and had difficulty clearly describing myself, let alone concisely consolidating what exactly it is I want to share here with strangers on a regular basis in one neatly paraphrased text.

When I began writing here, I figured my ‘About’ would gradually emerge along the way or ascend in one inspirational light-bulb-moment. I didn’t lose any sleep over it and the general euphoric atmosphere and bohemian edge that was so prevalent on this platform then made it seem like there was no rush to fit myself or my publication into a box.

Yet, over the course of two years and particularly in recent months, the impenetrable Substack algorithm began to litter my feed with the content of countless growth hack experts now established here who, unfortunately, did not waste a second in their attempts to gentrify this beautifully messy, creative corner of the virtual realm.

Their notes and strategically placed posts, incessantly advocating for more productivity and purpose during the writing/publishing process, began to incite pressure within me – a pressure that brought forth the meek voice of the same insecure, seemingly inadequate and unworthy little girl that persists to remain a part of me, but I have worked hard to tame (and, up until that point, thought I had subdued) for most of my adult life.

Suddenly, I again started questioning, comparing, and worrying that I am not good enough at this to actually dub myself a writer and that I am wasting my (and any sincere reader’s) time.

This sentiment culminated when I received a DM from one of the above mentioned gurus, complimenting my “elicit” and “eloquent” style of writing, yet (politely but firmly) criticising my lack of a distinct direction and a (here comes a word I have come to utterly despise) niche.

The following is an excerpt from my fan mail: You write well thought-out essays pertaining to different subject matters and you obviously have a knack for poetry, but there is no visible intention. Who are you writing for? What do they have to gain from your content? What is your audience’s motivation to read your work? It will be difficult to monetise your skills without taking these aspects into consideration…

Of course, this well-meaning craftsman was more than willing to assist me in finding my niche for a small(?!) fee and a bit of my valuable time.

Needless to say, I was annoyed by someone trying to push their advice and services (no matter how well-intentioned) on me in such a blatant, aggressive manner and I was amused that this person outright presumed that I am speculating on monetising my publication.

But, to my embarrassment, I must also admit that they succeeded in making me feel uncertain as to whether I measure up in comparison to all the other amazing talent displaying their nicely niched (I doubt that‘s a word, but I‘m using it anyway) work here everyday.

After this intrusive encounter, I allowed the steadfast confidence I’ve arduously built to take a blow and I then did what I always do when I feel defeated – I retreated…

After several weeks of brooding, reflecting, observing, and just enjoying/engaging in other writers’ work, I have come to a conclusion and a realisation.

I’ve spent my entire life (or at least from the time I was enrolled in school) confined within pretenses and niches, feeling as if I am suffocating as a result. A significant portion of my existence has felt like a perfectly curated presentation and I don’t wish for my Substack to be a continuation of that performance, which is why I refrain from streamlining its essence towards one definite theme or style.

Sometimes, I feel called to produce prose in the form of researched, polished essays and reflective thought-pieces.

Other times, I’m inclined to express my contemplations in poems, short stories/narratives, or completely unhinged journal entries…

I don’t want to choose just one form or topic and shouldn’t be made to feel as if doing so is a prerequisite to obtaining the right to be here and/or eventually wanting my writing to have monetary value.

When you make art, you’re always caught within the tension between wanting to create freely, yet longing for a solid foundation, but combining these two intentions is a process for which there is no one, sure-fire way to successfully implement the steps. Every artist’s path, in that respect, is as unique as their art itself.

In this present moment, all I feel is a deep desire to create and connect. Since I have spent a substantial amount of energy honing a lifestyle based upon the assertion that the present moment is what should receive my focus, I will let that be my compass.

So for now, my Substack remains my personal sphere to dabble, dream, dare, and to convene with like-minded souls – simple as that! And, regardless of whether I’m being paid for it or not, I believe that’s what the art of writing is essentially all about!