the tiktokification of substack

is substack becoming tiktok for writers?

There are content creators, and there are writers.

Content creators are fast—quick thinkers who are always on the move, navigating the frantic, algorithm-driven world that will make them disappear the second they slow down. Content demands to be made, posted, and consumed now, before the next big thing comes and takes its place.

I see content creators as smart and witty, adaptable beings with a special eye to recognize what audiences want and the ability to deliver it at lightning speed.

Writers, on the other hand, are slower. We write because we have to, because it comes from somewhere deep inside us. We need time to absorb, to process feelings, to translate them into words. We are constantly torn between what we need to write and what we think people want to read, even when that pressure exists only in our own minds.

Authenticity is our greatest strength, but also our biggest curse.

Authenticity needs time to be digested, both by the creator and the consumer. And, in the attention economy, time is worth millions.

It’s not about being morally superior. Our content isn’t inherently more valuable just because it takes longer to create. I, myself, sometimes play the role of a content creator, even if most of the time I am a writer.

I like observing audiences, figuring out what resonates with them, watching how my pieces perform based on the topic. I use Notes to bring more people to read my work, to experiment, to find new ways to reach a wider audience.

However, on a platform like Substack, the line between writer and content creator is getting so thin that it’s almost impossible to tell them apart. You have to be both.

You need to be authentic, but also appeal to as many people as possible. You need to take your time on your craft, but also post at least one long-form piece a week. You need to research the topics you write about, but also stay active on Notes so people don’t forget about you.

Coco Mocoe, one of my favorite creators on here, recently wrote about this in a piece discussing TikTokers jumping into long-form formats like podcasts. As she points out, not every influencer is built for long-form.

But, is any writer built for short-form?

Substack is a great platform. Not just because it—used to, at least—prioritizes long-form content, but also because its monetization model is one of the fairest and most effective on the Internet.

And I’m not going to lie: I take Substack seriously. I love it because it lets me live out my childhood dream of having my own blog, building a community of like-minded people, and doing what I love most in the world: writing.

But I also take it seriously because I want to make a career out of writing. I want to be consistent, I want to grow, and, of course, I want to get paid for it.

So what happens when the Charli D’Amelios of the world realize this? Well, just like during the TikTok ban, when everyone migrated to the Chinese app Douyin, they’re likely to move to Substack. Many already have. They’re shifting their audiences from one platform to another, and my best guess? It’s probably about the monetization.

When creator funds, brand deals, and collaborations dry up, short-form content creators will inevitably migrate to platforms that pay them better. It’s not wrong—it’s just how the ecosystem works. If I were a short-form creator who thinks is not getting paid fairly, I would probably do the same.

The problem comes when platforms like Substack start adapting to these creators and their audiences while neglecting their existing writers. Recently, I came across something that came to my attention: Substack has added a video feature that might feel similar to Instagram Reels.

It’s about videos. It’s about scrolling.

On a platform that was built around newsletters and long-form writing, the response has been… Well, less than enthusiastic. When I wrote a Note about it, these were some of the reactions I got:

People are resisting, and I get why. Substack users are different from those on other platforms. Many of us came here to escape the short-form content black hole, to consume something deeper, to share our art, to connect with like-minded people.

Watching Substack morph into something similar to Instagram Reels feels like being pulled right back into what we were trying to leave behind.

I understand that Substack, like every other platform, wants to reach as many people as possible. Not just that—they want those people to stay on the app for as long as possible.

At the end of the day, that’s the core of the attention economy. Attention is time, and time is money. Period.

But do all social media platforms have to look the same? Will writers and artists have to bend to the short-form, frantic pace just to survive, just like they had to do on Instagram and TikTok? Short-form content and algorithms can be powerful tools for promotion, but is that all there is?

Take Notes, for example. I’m not against it. I use it, I try not to get too sucked in, and I consider it’s a great tool for promotion and community-building. If you go viral, you can get new subscribers who will end up reading your long-form content.

Which, in theory, is a win-win.

But what happens when your Notes get way more likes than your long-form pieces? What does that say about the state of Substack and the things audiences are interested about? For example, I wrote this Note about a post I had written, and it has over 3,000 likes:

However, the long-form post has 300 likes. And I’m not complaining—it’s a huge number, and I’m incredibly grateful that people are reading it, interacting with it, and resonating with it. I’ll never take that for granted. As a writer, having just one person connect with your work is more than enough.

But the difference is huge, and I can’t help but wonder why. Is it because of the algorithm? Are Notes being pushed more? Or is it because people, despite what they say, are still more drawn to consuming short-form content?

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(You can read the piece here, by the way. I am truly proud of this one).

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Changes are coming, and I am wondering if the only options are to adapt or drown. I don’t think it’s as apocalyptic as some make it seem, but I am concerned about what this might mean for the art that creators on Substack are crafting. I am worried that long-form content will be pushed aside, overshadowed by its image-filled, easier-to-digest counterpart.

I am just afraid that Substack might become oversaturated, and only the fast-paced algorithm athletes will be the ones to thrive.

But time will tell. For now, we need to keep creating, keep writing, and, above all, keep supporting the writers we love here.

Writing is not easy. It requires time, vulnerability, and the ability to translate thoughts and feelings into words, creating a bridge between the writer and the reader with every keystroke.

I am always reading the comments on my pieces, and I am really curious to read what you think about this one. So, how do you feel about all of this? Do you think the Substack ecosystem is going through significant change or are people just overreacting?

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