I, too, have a Substack

Hi there, and welcome to my Substack. 

I know. I know. Another one. Everyone and their mom has one. Why bother, right? I’ve asked myself that same question. In fact, I’ve disavowed myself of this endeavor a few times, but something keeps pulling me back. What is it? 

A brief interlude about me might help answer that. 

I have been publishing in mainstream media outlets for 14 years now. I started writing for a local Bronx paper when I was a wee boy of 16. By 18, I had my first byline in the New York Times. Since then I’ve written for outlets like The New Yorker, The Atlantic, The Paris Review, and many, many others. But last winter, I pretty much stopped writing for big publications altogether when I quit my job as a staff writer at The Daily Beast. 

One of my first print articles, featuring my first author photo.

I left the daily journalism grind to focus on two important things: My kids, and my fiction. 

I can say that I have been successful on at least one front: In July of 2022, my debut novel VICTIM sold to Doubleday and is scheduled to be published in March of 2024. (As for my kids, talk to me in about 20 to 30 years and I’ll let you know.) 

For the past year or so, my hands have been pretty full with dirty diapers, vomit, revisions, stale Cheerios and Fruit Loops, edits, ear infections, fevers, antibiotics, copy-edits, sleepless nights, probably a million versions of “Wheels on the Bus”, and my day job. 

Time is limited and I devote much of the free time I currently have to my fiction (my sophomore effort is already underway!), trying–and sometimes failing–to read one new book a month, the New York Mets, and lifting weights a few times a week (thank God for pre-workout!).

There isn’t much room for anything else. I know that. And yet, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about starting a Substack for the past six months or so. 

What I love about Substack is that it reminds me of the early 2000s. The Blogspot days. When myself and others would create these wonky looking pages and riff on random stuff that interested us. Do the sort of introspective, embellished writing that often doesn’t have a place in mainstream, traditional outlets–particularly those constantly in search of a hot take on an issue that happened five minutes ago. 

After I started publishing in those kinds of outlets, I pretty much stopped doing that sort of introspective, wandering writing. I stopped dwelling as much on the page. And the little that I did do, I stopped sharing.

It felt dumb, particularly when I had these notions that in order to be a successful writer I had to publish a piece in X place and Y place–even if I didn’t really want to write said piece to begin with. 

Thankfully, I’m older now. I’ve been around. And I feel like I’ve succeeded. I make a living and support my family by writing. I’ve published places. I have a book coming out. I’m also a dad who cares a hell of a lot more about his family at this point than he does about his writing career. External validation just doesn’t really do it for me any more. 

Which is why I’ve started Dwell. 

I could lay out some grand plan about the sorts of things I’ll write about, but honestly, I’d be lying. I suspect I’ll write often about the things I’m most interested in, the things I tend to dwell on: books, music, sports, faith, parenting, writing problems, writing joys, random questions and thoughts that tend to come to me in between sets at the gym at six in the morning. In between this, I’ll provide some updates on my journey to publication. At the end of each post, I’ll include links to some things I think are worth checking out. Books, articles, music, podcast episodes. 

I’m not planning to charge money for this because I’m not doing this for money. I’m a simple man, and, by the grace of God, my family and I have all our needs met at this point. 

My only goal is to build a little outlet for myself. A place to write some funky stuff every couple of weeks, hopefully find some people interested in reading it, and perhaps even build a small community of sorts. Erik Hoel, who has an amazing Substack you should check out, outlined the inherent benefits of a venture like this in a 2021 post. This part resonated with me the most: 

A missive with a tiny byline isn’t meaningful anymore. Spreading yourself thin over outlets means (some) money, but it also means no one sees anything twice, the audiences are different every time, and there’s no repetition, no loyalty, no feedback.

I love the idea of creating a more intimate conversation with readers, even if it is just a tiny group of readers at first. 

So, if you’ve read this far along, and perhaps even hit subscribe, thank you. I’m looking forward to setting this thing off and seeing what comes of it, and I appreciate you being along for the ride. 

More soon. 

Peace, 

Andrew