As always, this piece is AI-free. No artificial neural networks were used in the writing or imagery.
1. Showing You The Exit
I’m here to turn some of you away, to show you the exit, to ask you to leave. I’m here to narrow the audience. This is not a joke.
Before you take offense—this is the era of easy offense, after all—consider my proposition: Narrowing the audience is a form of mutual grace.
Over the last decade of my writing journey, I’ve amassed an email list some might find envious. (I’ll share the numbers in Part 4 below.) Some joined in the early days of my sobriety journey. Some joined as I worked through my unpublished novel, Bears in the Yard. Some followed because I shared my Catholic journey. Some joined because they enjoyed my writing on place. Some love the photographs, the poetry, the pieces of short fiction I drop from time to time. Some are Russian bots, and to the Russian bots let me be abundantly clear: Ukusite menya russkiye boty.
To the rest of you non-Russian bots, Thank you. I’m grateful.
But here’s what I also know to be true: Many who once found value in my writing, no longer do, and that’s okay.
2. Unsubscribing is a Mutual Grace
My writing isn’t for everyone, and some of you have said as much. Readers have complained that I’m too Christian or Catholic or spiritual. Others judged me not Christian or Catholic or spiritual enough. Some hate poetry and others care little about my photo essays. Some have supposed I’m a flaming liberal because I see the irony in our former president hawking Bibles to the throngs of adoring white nationalists. Some find me too silent on politics. Some have loved my writing on AI, while others have vehemently disagreed with my neo-Luddite takes on the topic. In my decade of writing professionally, I’ve heard every criticism.
I’d like to be vain enough, narcissistic enough, or sociopathic enough to believe my writing might unlock Your Best Life™. I am not. My writing is targeted, and it isn’t for everyone.
Need help organizing your closet, office, or meal plan? I’m not your writer.
Looking for insightful political commentary? I’ll just make you angry, regardless of your affiliation.
Want a steady stream of spiritual inspiration? Spiritual inspiration is the gift of God and saints, and I’m neither.
Want to know how to be more productive and focused? Get a prescription for Adderall and read every shred of James Clear, but don’t look to me.
Need insights on how to monetize your side hustles? Don’t read here. Take a page out of Trump’s university-steak-shoe-bible playbook, because love him or hate him, the brother can grift.
So, if my writing isn’t for you, I have one ask: Please unsubscribe.
Q: But Seth, what do I get if I unsubscribe?
A: You get one less email cluttering your inbox each week. You also release me from the tyranny of the ego, the pride in numbers, the desire to amass more more more more.
See? It’s a win-win.
Do your duty. Click the “unsubscribe” button at the bottom of this email. Go with God. DO NOT READ FURTHER.
3.The Techno-Payola Mob Bosses Versus the 1,000 True Fans
If you’re still reading, thanks. You’re one of the real ones.
I joined Substack on March 22, 2020, before the throngs flocked to this platform. I came here because the social media rat race had worn me thin. I wasn’t sexy enough to be relevant on Instagram (my butt has always been a bit too flat). My writing was too niche and too indirect to cut through the noise of Facebook. I was a terrible grifter on Twitter. And more than any of that, I was tired of supporting the techno-payola, social media ad-spend schemes designed to make the current slate of mob bosses wealthy.
This Substack—The Examine—was my attempt to leave the masses and find the few. I’m a devotee of Kevin Kelley’s “1,000 true fans” concept. To recap his theory: A creator only needs 1,000 avid supporters to carve out a living. I wanted to find those fans and invite them into my work (just as I true fan several writers). I wanted those true fans to explore creativity, spirituality, and the art of being human with me.
So far, I think we’ve made progress together.
4. Looking at the Numbers
How am I doing on my journey to finding those 1,000 true fans? Let’s open the books.
The Examine has 7,300 subscribers.
The average open rate is 35%, meaning nearly 2,600 of you read regularly.
159 (2%) of you pay a monthly subscription fee to help keep The Examine afloat. (Thank you!)
I don’t take any of this for granted, and I cannot express my gratitude. But today, I’m inviting you to up the ante.
This work is not easy, particularly because I’ve committed to doing it AI-free. It takes time to craft pieces. On the photography front, it takes money to process film, time to edit photos, and equipment needs are not uncommon. Growing the subscriber base allows me more time for me to create these pieces and pursue projects at The Examine. And let me tell you, there are some killer projects I’d love to pursue.
Finally, know this: I can’t continue this work for free. It’s a poor use of my time, talent, and resources. (The same is true for you in your endeavors.) So today, I’m making a bold ask. If you’re one of the 2,600 regular readers, consider becoming a monthly subscriber. Become a part of the 1,000.
Special offers
Maybe you’ve been on the fence about subscribing.
Maybe you’re an educator with a bona fide .edu extension on the end of your email.
The Observationalist
In the spring of 2023, I began exploring the concept of visual language by creating a book of photos, poems, and short essays entitled The Observationalist. All proceeds are reinvested in the equipment I need to pursue more ideas like this. You can preview The Observationalist by following this link or clicking on the image below.
If you’ve enjoyed this post…
I can’t escape you even if I unsub’d. I guess I’ll stay.
Long time subscriber here, and happy to support your work.