Sorry/not sorry for the cross-post yesterday of the article “How I Realized I’m Asexual”—it was meant to go out to Qstack readers, but hey, read on about how we’re all doing the best we can… 😘
Recently, I had reason to do a little self-inventory when someone asked me:
Troy, what is your vision? (… vision … vision … vision…)
My vision. Hmm. I had a vision, when I started both of my newsletters: That
would be a way for people to get to know me, Troy the author, and that engagement with other book-people would be fun and put a human face on things. That’s what people want nowadays, they say—show them you’re not too big to eat bugs on a reality show, that sort of thing.(They say—who are “they” anyway? I have my suspicions.)
Apparently, we don’t want faceless figures tossing Art from on high, we want real people and their stories, their quirks and foibles, artists for the masses, etc. and so forth, to which I can confidently assert that I have shown you the all-too-human face of Mr. Troy Ford and his symphony of nonsense, mission accomplished.
So that was the vision for FORD KNOWS, once upon a time—still is.
And then there was
: We needed a way to find each other, all of us Substack queers, because when I started looking for others to subscribe to and engage with, we were rather hard to find—no demographic categories on Substack, remember, no LGBTQQIP2SAApluses, just like there’s no Women, Oldsters, Differently Abled, BIPOC, or any number of sensible categories for people thinking “Hey, where are the other folks like me?”I started Qstack as a way for people to find each other, and to bring visibility to our queer community—a platform within a platform—by creating a directory that also accepts submissions to highlight queer writers and makes their work the lion’s share of Qstack’s content. I have generally been less concerned with making Qstack a household name, more with letting the light shine on other queer creators.
But maybe that’s not vision enough?
It’s just that one does get a bit tired of dancing this frenetically—thinking, writing, polishing, reading, boosting, restacking, liking, LOVING every Bit of All THIS!—only to be perpetually asked and tasked with:
What else ya got?
Do I have a vision? I thought I did, but maybe I’m wasting opportunities. Maybe my twin visions—showing you the real me so you would be inclined to give my novels and stories a chance, and connecting you to other queers producing some very fine work—maybe that’s all a little ho-hum, a little provincial, a little Local Human Interest when Global Humanitarian Initiative was wanted?
I mean, I get it, Substack’s gotta make a dime (don’t we all) and they don’t make any money if I’m off selling my contemporary queer coming-of-age stories elsewhere.
(And shouldn’t artists be paid for their work? I had more to say about that in my post “Without you I’m a goldfish.”)
I have been thinking for a while about trying my hand at some off-platform stories, articles, and essays, engaging a wider audience now that I’ve found my feet in this topsy-turvy world of freelance blah-blah, but that’s not helping Substack and also how dare I?
If we’re not on here to build podcast/broadcast/godcast media empires with celebrity guests and behind the scenes peeks, climbing up the Brand-New Leaderboard flagpole—*NOW* with More Reasons For You to Feel Inadequate!—well then, what the hell good are we anyway?
But I guess I just thought writing novels and getting eyeballs on those novels, maybe even queer eyeballs, was the whole point of this game.
Can we do more? Are we doing the very best we can?
(The “era-defining” queer contemporary coming-of-age novel in question.)
I’m just going to link back to my top post of all time, below—of course, the one NOT about life or writing, but about how others can grow their Substacks with a little sanity—and it bears repeating because it’s still true:
There is a world beyond this platform. Some (not all) of the biggest names on the Leaderboard brought their audiences with them, in fact were enticed with promises of exclusive promotion and support, already-famous pied pipers luring their busloads of fans into our wonderland market. Many have producers, editors, and assistants, and definitely don’t design their own graphics on the free version of Canva.
And we were having a gay old time, with our artisan gingerbreads and nut-crusted cheese bouches, weren’t we? If it sorta seems like now Substack wants to go all Walmart on us and invite Santa to set up an outlet right in the middle of our scotch-taped and safety-pinned village, I guess we must still remember: No advertising. No stockholders demanding more and more profits. We keep the great majority of our (very modest) earnings. And we complain—it’s what we do.
Anyways, to answer my own questions: OK, yes, we probably could do a little more—we live, we learn; and also, YES! We are doing the very best we can.
If you’re feeling slightly deflated by the gentrification of Substack, “Slow Grow Your Substack” is a little balm for the ouch, with a side of Bowie to pair with it.
Cheers ~ MTF 💜🎩🐈⬛
Slow Grow Your Substack
We watched one of those history shows awhile back about ways to die in Merry Olde England, and it was a treat. Apparently, drowning in the river due to sodden petticoats was quite commonplace, as was dying in a fire thanks to all the open flames.
Everything tastes better with a little Bowie....
But, we really were having a gay old time, with our artisan gingerbreads and nut-crusted cheese bouches..!! 😭 At the end of the day, I love complaining, and there is much to complain about (leaderboard, rising, ever more bloody 'metrics' being plastered everywhere and forced down everyones throats 🤮 - I wouldn't mind so much if there were the option to opt out!) so I suppose I should be grateful... 🤷🏻♀️💜 But, I did notice a cold chill run through my body when I read your self-inventory question...so, that was good to recognise!