I finally got around to reading the essay from Charlie XCX. The essay was ok, I guess. It didn’t move me one way or another, and it seemed a bit chaotic at points.

She will pull in a lot of people to substack, many of those people probably won’t be interested in reading whatever I publish. That’s ok we speak a different language and to different people.

I wish I had the ability to pull as many eyes with my words that she seems to be able to do, but that’s probably not going to happen. Does it matter? I don’t think so, and I don’t think that matters. The ugly truth is, I love to write, I can’t get away from the pull within me to put pen to pad and say something.

To poorly paraphrase the great Dia Lupo , I was always going to be a writer, whether it meant scribbling notes on a napkin, publishing a 500 word rant on Instagram with a caption that probably doesn’t match the text, or on a WordPress website where the only viewers are myself and whatever bots crawled the page.

I have things to say, and I will write them, I will do this with no followers or a million. So I might as well focus on that. Good luck to Charlie XCX, Lizzo and all of the other celebrities, I wish you joy on this journey. For myself, I’ll keep focusing on the words, and let it all land wherever it may.