Reflections on not publishing on this substack

I don't think I actually want this to "succeed"

My screen is yellow because the night shift is on. Photo credit: Antonia Caenis

I expect to change my mind

Here’s a list of how I’ve already changed it. I’m worried I’ll become associated with one thing or another. I don’t want things to gradually slip into my self-image in a way that makes it harder for me to notice arguements against them.

I’m not actually as sure as my writing voice suggests

My speaking voice, and facial expressions, would tell you that I’m not nearly as confident and arrogant as my writing voice suggests. My writing voice does not convey this information.

I’m embarrassed to write navel-gazey stuff

Even though it is a genre I read a lot. It’s too “soft”, not serious enough. Too feminine. It has much more potential for embarrassment if people who know me IRL discover this blog.

I don’t want to invest too much in an anonymous identity

I’m early-career. Having my thoughts and opinions on lots of stuff easily googleable is strategically very dumb. But that limits what I can say as Antonia Caenis. I’m constantly self-monitoring: “does saying this make it easier to doxx me?”.

If I haven’t changed my mind about most of this stuff twenty years from now, I’ll have done something wrong

But does writing it in public make it harder to change my mind? Should I just keep this on my hard drive?

I don’t think I actually want this to “succeed”

This post about audience capture continues to scare me whenever I look at it. I don’t think it takes a lot of people, either - a handful is probably enough. I do want feedback and criticism (and it feels lonely to shout into the void), but I don’t think I want this to become anything other than a quiet corner of the internet. I am not sure I could handle anything else.

I am anxious because this goes into people’s inboxes

I would find it easier to write more if this weren’t a newsletter. Sending something directly into your inbox makes a direct bit on your attention. I am telling you “I wrote something that I believe is worth your time to read”. I often don’t actually believe that. Rationally, I know you are a better judge of what is worth your time than I am, and that you know how to unsubscribe. (I hope someone unsubscribes after this post.) But emotionally, sending this out via email feels like I’m asking you for a favour. “Please read this thing I wrote.” “Please pay attention to me.”

(I don’t think that is a good way of thinking about this…)

(Seriously! I hope someone unsubscribes after this post!)

I am going to lower my effort threshold

I am going to do a hundred “half-formed thoughts” posts. The contents of my mind will never become clearer unless I try to articulate them. The first attempts at articulation often don’t make for satisfying reading. They’ll be in your inbox anyway, unless you choose to unsubscribe.