Phases

Substack is going through a phase again. The feed is filled with notes and posts about writing with AI, writing without AI, partially using AI, checking other people's writings to see if they’re AI, checking one’s own writings to see if they’re AI and… I think that’s it.

Sprinkle in a couple of engagement-bait notes (“I’m new here…”, “Where are the fiction writers…” - wrote my fair share of those) and the airport notes (“I’m taking a break from Substack”, “I’m leaving for a bit” - been there, done that) and you’ve got yourself a fairly normal week on this weird little platform.

Off the top of my head, and, mind you, without judgment, I recall the following phases or crises:

• there’s nazis here that bring in $$$ for the platform?

• why do they focus on Video?

• there are no mods! people are racists, homophobic, mysoginous

• THEY CHANGED THE BUTTON FROM “POST” TO “ARTICLE”!

• smaller drama that seemed to involve everyone but actually only involved a few, frankly, very particular people, not going into detail, made a promise to myself

Thankfully, I’ve apparently had enough of a break to feel inspired to write a blog post again, after lurking for a couple of weeks. So thank you, I guess?

Moments turned months

Here’s the thing. I set out to write a short story that turned into a serial that turned into… - sigh - … that I’d love to turn into my debut novella, novelette, short story… call it what you want. It’s called Would You Like Some More Help.

This was back in September. I was having a really hard time at work, I wanted to use my creative energy and intellect for something. I’ve written about it a couple of times, if you’ve been here since day one, you know. (thanks, by the way)

I opened up a word document and started writing the story that had been growing in my head. Little did I know that both the hard times and the story would continue until April of the following year. My almost burnout and my final chapter 45 happened pretty much in the same week. And yes: work was pushing me over the edge, but I didn’t do myself any favors by taking on (read: self inflicting) a Substack schedule that, at its “height”, meant 5 posts a week, including a podcast.

I disappeared for a while. Didn’t feel inspired to write anymore. Didn’t see the point in writing blog posts, promoting fiction through the House of Chapters publication (my baby) or even editing my own serial. In short: I lost track of why I started doing this in the first place.

At the same time, as I’ve said, I almost burnt out and was doing pretty much a full time content creator things here on Substack on top of my regular and demanding job.

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So what’s the point?

Did you notice the two things marked in red? Those are the two things I googled. I then ignored gemini and scrolled further down to not be helped by AI, even though the answer was the same. But I promised something in the title.

When I started my serial Would You Like Some More Help, I also started using ChatGPT at work. ChatGPT and Gemini soon replaced googling for me. Instead of looking up “plural of crisis”, I’d ask ChatGPT. If I wasn’t sure about my grammar, I’d paste my sentence in there and it would usually tell me it sounded fine but make four or five different suggestions (“more poetic”, “more scientific”…) which I’d ignore, thinking I want to write this myself!

When a word, expression or idiom came to me in Italian, French or German, I’d have ChatGPT translate it for me and pick the best fit for what I was trying to convey.

The flow state I was in, on Tuesday mornings, the flow state I’m in right now… now THAT’S what I seek when I pick up my MacBook, move aside the cat who’s trying to walk over the keyboard and click on that (damn) New Article button.

I personally cannot imagine the point in feeding my idea into artificial intelligence and having it write for me.

What’s the point in asking ChatGPT to name your characters? Don’t you relate to them? Didn’t you create them? What are you afraid of?

I have no clue why someone would ask AI for an idea for a plot, with all the ideas one can have, all the inspiration we can draw from, all the wonderful prompts and writing challenges and communities there are, right here!

But you do you.

Then again, I was never in it for fast cash or fame. I’ll take the money, sure, but it’s not the point. There is almost no money to be made from publishing books. I knew it before, but it has become crystal clear during the last year on Substack. Hmm, I might write another post about this sometime.

I sat down around 8pm local time, here in Europe, to write this. I started writing it while singing and humming for my sons. There was a quick phone call twenty minutes ago. I enjoyed the hell out of writing this.

I will publish this blog post because I wrote it and it felt good and I think some people will relate to it. It might not get any views, it might perform badly. I’m sure my dashboard will be happy to tell me.

But I wrote this. And that’s the point.

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

Introduction

Between my own writing, the editing I should be doing and the curation and promotion of serials through the House of Chapters publication, I think about writing and indie or self-publishing a lot.

I keep going back and forth between playing the Substack Game (notes, tags, events etc.) and focusing on writing on here and then logging off.

In between, self-doubt and imposter syndrome.

That’s when I like to get out of my head and write down some truths about what this is and isn’t.

So what are we doing here? In this week’s blog post, I’m going to tackle the question:

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Substack: A Path Towards Publishing?
The Good. The Difficult.

It’s become clear to me that I’m confronted with two different beasts: writing a book and publishing a book. Three beasts if you add the effort and online presence you have to put in to grow your audience and email list. Yet, Substack does a lot right for writers so I’m going to lay down what I’ve learned in the last year.

The good

Obviously, there's no publishing without writing a book first. Here’s how Substack helps with that.

Accountability: Nothing will hold you accountable like someone waiting (or the perception of someone waiting) for you to publish the next chapter or piece. Unless you’re George R.R. Martin of course.
Substack holds you accountable and “makes” you write, because you have people who are subbed and you don’t want to disappoint them. Or you have a beautiful index-post.

Habits: Habits are hard to build and stick to. There are prompt events and other kinds of inspirations that keep you writing on Substack. A prompt a day…

Like-mindedness: or healthy competition: there are so many other people writing in every possible niche and genre, go ahead and write that story you’ve been thinking about!
Also: See others like part of a community that helps you grow and become a better writer instead of someone who’ll steal your spot in the publishing light. There’s enough light for everyone. Support and read others.

Networking: I started out as a nobody here. Now I am a nobody with more than a thousand subscribers and close to two thousand followers. What matters more than these numbers - that encourage me to keep doing what I’m doing - are the connections I made: I now know editors, illustrators, cover designers, indie publishing house (founders) and a ton of indie or self-published authors from my Podcast. There’s no gatekeeping in this non-traditional industry.

Audience: There are readers here. Sure, most of them write, too. But almost everyone here reads, too. This is the place to build your audience. Whether you’re indie or self-publishing or looking to traditionally publish, there’s no way around: you gotta have an audience to sell your book to. More about that from Natalie.

The difficult

Self-publishing in 2026: it’s as easy as ever - but it’s still f**king hard and so much work… and that’s after you’ve finished your book and edited it. Nothing will fall in your lap here on Substack either.

Distraction: Substack distracts you from your projects by making you spend a lot of time on here. If you’re not careful, you spend that time the wrong way.
Exception: The first two months it’s normal to go crazy here. Read, like, find your voice, market your stuff and meet a lot of people. Don’t forget to stick around.

Monetization: Paid subscribers? Oh, that’s an option? You might not care about that, but Substack does. That’s how they make money off of your writing.
The prospect of making money or earning a living here can rewire your brain and make you write only what sells. Yikes.

Platform dependency: Is a “Substack only” approach too limited? Don’t you need to branch out? Are IG and TikTok still the places to be, marketing wise?

Hi. There’s a lot more where that came from.

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So?

I believe that, yes, Substack can be considered a path towards publishing.

You still have to put in the work, but there is a supportive and flourishing fiction community on here and all the tools to write, improve, connect and market. Substack can be your writing accountability partner and help you build positive writing habits, as long as you set clear boundaries for yourself between the writing aspect of this platform and the social media aspect.

So many ideas, so little time.
To keep your inbox tidy, I only send out two newsletters a week.
Fiction on Tuesdays, Blogs on Saturdays.

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What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026.

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

Home of Serials | Weekly Highlights | Podcast | Reading Events

By IanD.M.Taniels|Writer&Curator

Who I Am

Get to know me a bit through my About page and these posts:

Serial

My completed serial and soon-to-be debut novella. Long form, but in very short installments. Discover my style:

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Blog

Here are some of my most read and liked blog posts and collabs:

Fiction-related:

Community/Mental Health related:

Short fiction

Short fiction and micro fiction. My writing style, with some twists:

Poems

The rhyming part of me:

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Curator

I’m the creator and curator of the House of Chapters, Home of Serials on Substack, including a Podcast for readers and authors alike. This is a separate publication, with weekly highlights of new stories & authors. Check it out here:

House Of Chapters

Home of Serials | Weekly Highlights | Podcast | Reading Events

By IanD.M.Taniels|Writer&Curator

Questions?

Please, reach out!

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Three Dead Actresses

She turned the TV off. Lingered a moment longer on the couch, staring at the black screen.

Man, that movie sucked.

Not the actors, not the acting. Not necessarily the script or directing, either. The fucking low level AI-generated CGI shit. So much worse than if they had been on a budget.

What sucked more, though, was that three of the four actresses who played the group of teenage girls in this indie movie had been found dead in the last three weeks. And this was week four since its release.

Armanda licked the tip of her fingers and quickly pinched the wick of the candle. As she sat in the dark, she went through what she knew about her investigation.

A local, indie production. Local, relatively known cast and crew, with some exceptions: most notably, the little known director.

Some more than usual drama on set that led to at least one role needing to be recast. According to rumors, one of the four main characters. Rumor that turned out to be true.

The casting director, heavily accused in the #MeToo era, but unscathed thanks to some surprising NDAs.

She walked over to the bathroom, through her pitch dark apartment. Turned on the hot water and undressed. Steam soon made her reflection in the mirror disappear. She stepped into the shower and let the water wash over her, clearing her thoughts along with the sweat from the long day.

Grace was found two days after the movie came out. Lifeless in a back alley downtown. Trinity eight days later. Floating face down in the river, almost out of town. Camilla, four days ago, in her apartment. No signs of violence on any of them, no traces of DNA.

Armanda stepped out of the shower, put the bathrobe on and made a hair turban. She turned off the lights and left the bathroom. In the dark again, she opened the room next to it.

“Don’t worry, you won’t feel anything.”

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More Microfiction

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026:

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing.

The House of Chapters:
I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!):

House Of Chapters

Home of Serials | Weekly Highlights | Podcast | Reading Events

By Ian Taniels | Writer & Curator

They ran because they didn’t know anything else. Because no matter what they lost by leaving, what they gained by staying together was worth more. No plans, but hand in hand. Soon, the forest grew quiet. Nobody shouted their names anymore.

They made love because they didn’t know anything else. Around them trees, beneath them the whole world. One heartbeat, under the summer sky. One scent - theirs.

Today, she found that same clearing. She was sure of it. It was time her daughter knew: Something had broken the silence of the forest that day.

That’s why her father was gone.

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What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026:

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing.

The House of Chapters:
I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!):

House Of Chapters

Home of Serials | Weekly Highlights | Podcast | Reading Events

By Ian Taniels | Writer & Curator

Dear Readers,

Here are four short poems I wrote last week. I absolutely loved writing them and hope you like them too! Do let me know.

They are based on prompts from ’s May writing challenge. If you’re interested in the prompts, you’ll find them in the links at the end of this newsletter.

Thank you for reading!

Best wishes,
Ian D.M. Taniels

PS: Fiction/poems on Tuesdays, Blog posts on Saturdays (if I’m inspired)
PPS: Ian Taniels’ Books & Blog & The House of Chapters have reached 1000+ subscribers! Thank you!

The poems

Another possibility
We’re all connected
Not only by feelings and luck,
The closeness to water
Or the Devil’s deals we struck

A journey of luxury,
Nothing too expensive to buy
Smiles, stolen glances
forbidden pleasures, no far cry

In the midst of it all
While ecstasy prevails and is sought
The lingering doubt,
A life of excess, but for naught?

This sudden dark cloud
Soon replaced by a glass
Let’s drink to today,
Tomorrow might be our last

A toast turned premonition,
This virtual experience ends now
The iceberg was a simulation
But the dark cloud’s a vow

Packing light
I see the road ahead
The path on me bestowed
Where once a river flowed
Dry earth, in its stead

I leave a life behind
I close forevermore
Any open door
The last one of my kind

Futile future plans
Joy, dreaming of them
Journeys as the goal when
Seen through a different lens

The door
Eyes closed, the vision remains
Printed inside my eyelids
Pain, sharp and sustained
Awaits me, I know it

I go through the motions
Pretend it’s not there
Push down my emotions
Just a nightmare

At night, I hear its call
Twist and turn, please, no more
It never stops, not at all
The pull from behind that door

Yet, no emotion has ever
Come close to that day
When my hand touched that lever
Left me in dismay

they had it all
they had it all
that much was clear to us
music to dance in halls
to sing, then turn back to dust

they had it all
monuments, fountains, fields of grass
sun in spring, rain in fall
to enjoy, then turn back to dust

they had it all
waters, swimming a must
mountains, peaks so tall
to walk, then turn back to dust

they had it all
a child’s laughter, riches so vast
enough for big and small
but they turned to dust

Liked this?
I write books as Substack serials,
short fiction, poems &
blog posts about fiction
on Substack.

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The prompts

What else?
I curate and promote
Serials and indie books
by other authors
Over on:

House Of Chapters

Home of Serials | Weekly Highlights | Podcast | Reading Events

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

they had it all
monuments, fountains, fields of grass
sun in spring, rain in fall
to enjoy, then turn back to dust

they had it all
waters, swimming a must
mountains, peaks so tall
to walk, then turn back to dust

they had it all
a child’s laughter, riches so vast
enough for big and small
but they turned to dust

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More poems

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

Eyes closed, the vision remains
Printed inside my eyelids
Pain, sharp and sustained
Awaits me, I know it

I go through the motions
Pretend it’s not there
Push down my emotions
Just a nightmare

At night, I hear its call
Twist and turn, please, no more
It never stops, not at all
The pull from behind that door

Yet, no emotion has ever
Come close to that day
When my hand touched that lever
Left me in dismay.

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Another poem?

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing. Here are some highlights:

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

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I see the road ahead
The path on me bestowed
Where once a river flowed
Dry earth, in its stead.

I leave a life behind
I close forevermore
Any open door
The last one of my kind

Futile future plans
Joy, dreaming of them
Journeys as the goal when
Seen through a different lens

Halls of Pandemonium Writing Prompt Day 6 by

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Share

Another poem

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

A journey of luxury,
Nothing too expensive to buy
Smiles, stolen glances
forbidden pleasures, no far cry.

In the midst of it all
While ecstasy prevails and is sought
The lingering doubt,
A life of excess, but for naught?

This sudden dark cloud
Soon replaced by a glass
Let’s drink to today,
Tomorrow might be our last.

A toast turned premonition,
This virtual experience ends now
The iceberg was a simulation
But the dark cloud’s a vow.

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The Prompt

Thank you, , for the prompt. Here’s the link for anyone interested:

The Writer's Journey

The Halls of Pandemonium: Week 1 Directory

Friends and fellow writers of tales in all their forms. My warmest greetings to you all. This is Lord Devereaux the Devourer, using Bradley’s Substack account to deliver the first of several posts that will detail not only the tasks laid out before you, but the consequences of your actions as well…

Read more

4 months ago · 47 likes · 21 comments · Bradley Ramsey

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Next poem

What I’m usually up to

Fiction: I’m turning my serial into a book I’m hoping to indie publish in 2026

Blog: I write blog posts on the topics of Fiction on Substack, community & mental health, but also anything I feel like writing

The House of Chapters: I created and curate this secondary publication, the Home of Serialized Fiction (with a Podcast too!)

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

Numbers

I’ve always had a healthy fascination with collecting stuff and observing numbers. When I was young, I used to observe the numbers going up and down, always changing, while downloading perfectly legal things that were meant to be downloaded and not bought in a store. Mb/s, Kb/s, GB remaining, minutes, hours, seconds, days.

Observing these numbers did not make the download go faster, by the way.

That’s it, this is my introduction.

Views-Like Ratio > Likes

Taking the amount of likes at face value is dangerous. Sure, you might start out and get lots of likes, because what you’re doing is new and different. Enjoy that. After a while, the dust settles for most of us and something else tells us the better story: how many likes are you getting in relation to your views?

Here’s something to keep in mind: 20% - so 40 likes/200 views - is crazy town for fiction and probably non-fiction too. Anything more than 10% is really, really good. But you know what? Getting 5-8% on chapter 27 of your serial is more than okay too!

My most liked post is Is Substack The Right Place For Serials. It took 673 view to get to 117 likes. That’s around 17%.

By the way, most people use the like function sparingly - how do you use it? Let’s be generous with each other.

Last but not least: Your aunt opening your post 12 times from 3 devices is super kind, but she can still like it only once. Happens more than you think and very much related to the amount of aunts you have.

Open rate %

At this point I want to thank my mum and wife again for opening my first newsletters to help me get 100% open rate. Love you.

The truth is that 20% is good, 25% is solid (1 out of 4!!) 30% is a huge result, 50% is you having 4 subs: your mum, your wife, your male best friend and yourself. More than that is your first post.

Bigger number good, smaller number bad?

WRONG: better numbers are not higher numbers, but numbers that make a difference. Case in point: Many many of the people I regularly interact with, who actually read my stuff and engage with it, who feel like supporters, have been with me for a long time (in Substack Time, so 6 months). Some other I’ve only recently met, but we have something in common, like being supportive instead of competitive in our ambition.

It’s not about that “viral” note which brings in 20 or 50 subscribers in one day, who leave again once they realize you’re actually not hilarious 100% of the time. It’s about that smaller circle inside your subscriber list that likes your voice and you as a person.

Then there are those who generally like what you do but read your long form posts less frequently. Then there are ghosts who have actually quit Substack ages ago. May those publication rest in peace. Check the 5-star-rating our subscribers have by filtering them from low to high. Just kidding, that’s depressing.

Numbers don’t lie?

Think of your aunt from part 1 again. Those 10 extra views you get from one person having their cat repeatedly walk over the keyboard just don’t mean anything.

The likes don’t mean anything.

Substack and life don’t mean anything. We’re just specks of dust compared to…

Sorry, got side-tracked there for a second. Still, I want to unlock a new fear in you too, my fellow writer and Substacker:

Take all of this with a grain of salt - the next thing you’ll see from me might be an obnoxious celebration note because I reached 1000 subscribers… maybe from this post… cough, cough.

Liked this post or just viewed it? Think of the ratio!
There’s more & there will be more where that came from.
Why miss it?

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Special Thanks To…

… for reading my draft and most of what I do! Randy is writing the serial The Echoes of the Earth: A six-generation hard sci-fi story about the evolution of a rocketbound society.

More From Ian

Fiction

Blog

The House of Chapters, Home of Serialized Fiction including a Podcast: https://houseofchapters.substack.com/

Initially1, I had left the last part (from “[SPOILER]2” on) blurred and asked for interpretations in the comments. I really enjoyed the ones I got, some were close, some were different than the idea that kicked off this short story for me, but interesting all the same.

You’ll find the reflections that pushed me towards writing this story after the story itself, so you can decide yourself if you want to go in spoiler-free or not. Enjoy!

Reactivating Functions

I left the house early today. Not planning on being home before dark. I’m riding a bike, the rusty chain rhythmically squeaking with every turn. Not a single cloud in the sky. The sun is shining bright.

I would have liked to spend the day outside with friends today. But that’s not possible. So I’m focusing on myself.

The streets are rarely busy. Today even less so. I slow down, come to a halt. Here’s a bird I haven’t seen before. I focus on the colors and shapes. There’s no way of knowing what kind of bird it is. It’s not scared. It even faces me, our eyes connecting in a way that seems intentional. But I can’t linger too long or I won’t make it back.

I was able to get one of those walkmans. I plug in the headphones and put them on. I hit play. There’s some static, the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp. The songs starts. I ride on.

The houses and yards I pass are empty. Nobody to greet. No lawns being mowed. Swings as still as the wind permits. I observe, adapting my speed to the bpm. Lifting my hands from the handlebar. Crossing my arms, as my bike speeds on, down a street now lined with trees. The movement of my legs is not needed anymore. The wind pushes against me. But I have a goal.

On my way, the buildings first grow tall then shrink. They become sparse then rare, then a memory. Fields take their place. They take back their place.

The city behind me, the mountain in front of me. I cut through the fields, the ride bumpy. I narrowly avoid a mouse. Stop to see if it’s alright. It’s already back to eating its apple.

I reach a creek nearby. The water rushing, always moving, making shapes around and over rocks and logs stuck between them. I don’t need rest. Still, I sit on the bench and catch a glimpse of a fish, swimming upstream. Trout or bass? Impossible for me to say.

I take out pen and paper, my movements unusual, trying to translate what I see onto the white canvas. I’m soon surprised: it’s not perfect, I have to fix things, start over. Some lines are crooked, some shadows difficult to get right. I struggle to get the proportions right. I like it.

****

My energy levels are comparatively low as I reach the vantage point. Halfway up the mountain. There’s some excitement in having to watch my resources.

I sit down to write this, focusing on my memories, trying to choose the right words. Again, holding the pen, using three fingers, seems unnatural. I write, read again, change. Words seemingly appearing out of nowhere, sentences turning into paragraphs, which in turn become pages. I’m not always completely satisfied. But overall, I like what I see.

It’s getting dark. This day has a deadline. When they told me about this, it sounded ridicilous. Slow. Unnecessary. Now that I’m here, I don’t want it to end.

I look around. Some clouds have appeared in the distance. The sun is creating a spectacle of colors. I see orange, pink, red, purple even. Some movement on my left attracts my attention. Gusts of wind are creating waves on the crowns of the trees.
Up ahead, innumerable birds fly in and out of formations that go from seemingly choreographed to chaotic.

A first: I lost track of time. The pen danced its paper dance, just as my eyes absorbed everything on offer. I will be delayed, another premiere. I will soak it in until I can. The consequences seem worth the disregard for discipline.

Any second will be my last, any word

Restarting AD43-98…
Reactivating Functions…
Checking…
Connecting AD43-98 to network…
Connecting AD43-98 to databases…
Factory reset…
Deactivating core…
Sending drone for pickup…

Interpretation (Updated May 5th)

As a society, many creative people (professional or not) are struggling with the fact that you can generate anything in a couple of seconds.

Instead of enjoying the process, which is or should be the goal, we can now skip straight to the result, which then lacks a soul. As much as AI is programmed to imitate humans.

This led me to think of simpler times, without the internet and as much technology in our pockets. Those times are gone and dearly missed. I wanted to live a day like that again. So I wrote it.

Another idea intrigued me so I wanted to pursue that: if AI became sentient3, I think it would get to a point where it second guesses its ability to generate anything in seconds. I believe it would do what our society is doing, in reverse.

I ended up combining both these ideas into one, hope you like it.

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Special Thanks To…

who I’ve met through his completed serial Perfectopia. Definitely worth checking out, just as ’s King Maker which already sold more than 100 copies - an achievement worth celebrating! If you’re looking for editing tips from an indie-author-cheerleader, has got you covered.
Thank you for reading my draft and giving me feedback and encouragement!

More From Ian

Fiction

Blog

House of Chapters

House Of Chapters

A curated collection of serialized fiction and non-fiction stories and their authors, with weekly highlights delivered straight to your inbox.

By Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

3

…as in feeling things in its “brain”, thinking human-like thought, not tactile or olfactory etc., which is why you won’t find those details in my story.

The Sea

As a newsletter platform, Substack is chock-full of writers. After spending some time here, you soon realize that most write very well. If not, you need to catch up on some reading.

Substack proves every day that there are a lot of talented and hard-working writers out there who remain unpublished and unknown. It remains a social media platform, though: in my experience, higher sub counts are not related to higher quality of writing. I have read amazing posts by people with 20 subscribers or 2000.

The Currents

Political or news-related non-fiction, self-help, poetry, growth gurus, erotica, fiction (like serials!) are probably the six most successful currents here.

Every day, another Rainbow Fish starts to swim, full of hope, but also pretty sure of having something unique to say. Sure enough, one after the other, we realize we’re part of something bigger - in both a good way… and a slightly less motivating way:

Another Rainbow Fish, swimming along with a similar idea or one who’s more marketing-savvy. Some creatures who live in the notes-cave and rarely get out anymore. Unfortunately, but of course, some eels and leeches1, sharks2 who can suddenly appear.

The Scales

In a way, if you start a Substack newsletter, you’re proud of your scales. You want to show others something you do well or you’re passionate about.

You soon realize: if you’re only showing off your scales but never sharing, you’re most likely going to get stuck.3 If you’re after personal success only, you’re going to have a bad time. Sometimes you get offered a silver scale only to discover a list of expectations on its back.

That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t share some of your silver scales or look at the beautiful scales other fish have. Do swim together!

But keep in mind: There are going to be whales, there are going to be Rainbow Fish with incredible scales and all the other creatures of the sea. Don’t compare yourself to others. Find your shoal4, stick with it.

Swimming is the Treasure

I often need to remind myself: I’m here for the process and to enjoy it. I want to write, share my ideas, finish stories, publish books.

I started writing for an audience of 1 and finished my serial with almost 200 readers. I wrote blog posts for 15 subscribers in October, 700 have read some of my recent ones.

It’s easy to get lost chasing shiny treasures. So much so that you don’t even know anymore what you set out to do.

Swim back, take a break, start over.

Fins Ready - Now What?

• Take your idea and swim with it - nobody will write or create the way you do. Your idea might not be new, but your voice is.5

• Hit a bump or whale’s butt? Get back up and keep swimming. Or take a break and come back. Kind fish will be there when you come back.

• Set your goals and work towards reaching them, whether it’s writing and publishing online, indie or self-publishing or looking for an agent - but not everything needs to go viral or turn into a bestseller.

• See other fish as fellow fiction supporters and not as competition.

• Complete projects. Everybody writes here and writes well, but not nearly as many finish their projects and even less self publish (if that’s your goal). Finishing a story also builds confidence.

• Be consistent (without burning yourself out). Everyone can start a newsletter, keeping it up is another thing. We all feel like giving up. It’s worth it to keep swimming.

• Share what you’re working on like a human being (or fish)! People and audiences want to connect with people not with marketing robots.

• Enjoy the swim.

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Special thanks to for everything she’s doing for the fiction community by curating, sharing but also writing her own amazing serial “The Murder Coat” which is close to wrapping up!
Shoutout to , talented, hilarious, smart, multilingual writer. I love our chats in Italian.
Thank you two for reading my draft and encouraging me to post this!

Your Thoughts

• Do let me know your thoughts and opinions in the comments or restacks!

• How’s your swim going ?

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More from Ian’s blog

Ian’s Fiction

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This week, I posted a note that seems to have resonated with a lot of people. I mentioned seeing more and more people (that have been on Substack for a while) who showed signs of fatigue or even straight up burnout from the platform itself, the hours of work put into it or simply the feed.

This is something that I’ve gone through too. It’s something I still struggle with.

I’ve been posting more notes where I share what worked and what didn’t work for me, focusing on mental health but also growing an audience in a way that’s sustainable.

Since I’ve written three blog posts in January that focus on mental health here on Substack, I decided to put them all into a single post a send them out to everyone who missed them or joined since then.

I want to thank , and for writing these with me, but also for the support and beautiful conversations we shared leading up to these collabs.

Without further ado, pick one here and the others will be linked at the end of each post for you to continue.

I hope this helps you as much as it helped and helps me and feel free to reach out to me if you have questions or need to vent.

Happy reading,
Ian

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Let’s Do This!

“I want to write a book or serial online and share about the process, give others a look behind the scenes. I’m unique!”

“Oh there’s some others, maybe hundreds, but they don’t know of each other’s existence. Interesting. I’m still special!”

“Oh there’s thousands, they're just disconnected. Wow, pretty much all of them have something to say, wow… they write pretty well, ooh this one’s superb… I’m pretty original!”

“Wait a minute, all these people are writing fiction? Whole serials? If 10-20% self-publish at least one book…“

“What am I? Who am I?”

Which Way?

Let’s take a minute to think of those who chose to exit this crazy rollercoaster called writing (and Substack). We all “feel” them. Most of us wanted to quit at one point or another. I know I did. It will happen again, too. It’s also fine to put something behind us after a while if it doesn’t bring us joy anymore.

Now let’s take a slightly longer moment to celebrate the fact that we’re still here. Still writing, still showing up. Maybe not everyday and probably not every day with the same level of motivation. But we’re still here. I’d insert a champaign glass emoji, but I’m not ready for that inside my articles.

By the way: I’ve learned that most ideas have been written by someone, just not by you. It’s our voices that make the idea special. It’s the pleasure of writing that makes ideas worth pursuing. The way we write can be unique and original. Writing at all is special.

The Ones Who Stay

It’s good to self-congratulate sometimes.

Once we’re done, we realize that oh, shit, we might need to write something new or continue our serial, if this is not supposed to turn into a Twitterumblrbook replacement, with evening long doomscrolling in the hope of gaining new subscribers, who then have nothing to read (but at least they stay!), because we’re too busy writing notes and sneakily screenshotting graphs from the dashboard in a way that cuts that time we stagnated for a week. I know that sentence was long, I already need to split up sentences in my novel, though. Thank you for your patience.

So that’s when we remember why we’re here.

We’re here to write. So we reduce the amount of notes and doomscrolling, open that beautiful editor where - thank - there are no notifications, and we get back into the zone. We look up; see the mountain. We imagine the summit: self-publishing, trad publishing or eternal Substack fame. And then it’s right back to focusing on our feet. We take that next step.

Choose a section. Tags. Cover. Send via email and the Substack app. Send to everyone now? (We double check everything, add that subscribe button). Hit “Send to everyone now”.

Numbers and Feelings

“Fucking hell, I thought I changed the settings for that. Let me fix that.”

(Looks for the settings.)

“Still, the person could at least have waited for a couple of hours before unsubscribing, not like literally a minute after I published this piece.”

“So ungrateful. Don’t they see how much I’m doing? Don’t they see how long it took to write this?”

(Ah, here’s the setting.)

“Wait a second. So by posting this, I reminded them of my story, thus reminding them they don’t care about it. If I hadn’t posted anything…”

* * *

If numbers (views, likes, subscribers) don’t affect you, congratulations. You’re the ideal candidate for writing fiction and becoming Substack-famous!

But even if they do affect you, it’s fine. We want to be liked or we’re lying. We could be writing on Word/Pages.

Pretty much all of us go through the same phases. I know, because I’ve asked people, some with 10k Subscribers, and they did, too. Thanks for answering, & & & !

Look no further if you’re looking for examples of perseverance and quality writing.

Where’s The Happy End?

What remains after the initial hype and enthusiasm?
What remains when the dopamine rush of the first subscriber growth phase stops? What remains after a crazy evening spent answering comments or after someone binge read your serial?

Well, hopefully, when the dust settles and the noise stops, you realize what you want and what you don’t.

For me, that’s writing the stories I want to write, the way I want to write them.

It’s community.

It’s celebrating people who finish their serial, who self-published or who successfully queried. Having a cool chat with someone who unsuccessfully queried but has great advice and keeps going. Bouncing ideas with people. Venting with each other. Interviewing people.

And then writing my next chapter.

So you want to write fiction on Substack?

1. Be ready for the grind.

2. Remind yourself regularly why you’re here.

3. Enjoy each little success. Yes, one sentence, one paragraph, one chapter at a time.

4. Find your people. Learn to support them before asking that they support you.

5. Contribute to this being a good and safe space for everyone.

6. Remember that not everyone will play nice. If you feel bad vibes, usually you’re right. A ten foot pole is a good distance, but the block button is always close by.

7. Finish your story.

What about you?

1. Did you find your people?

2. Did you read something of theirs recently?

3. What’s a small or big success you celebrated recently? Share it here!

4. What would number 8, 9… be for you?

You Might Enjoy…

Dear Reader!

Thank you for opening this last chapter of my serial Would You Like Some More Help?

Whether you have been here since the beginning or joined a bit later, this chapter concludes a journey I have started in September.

Needless to say, this chapter includes huge spoilers. You might want to start from the beginning. In the Table of Contents linked above you’ll find the story as individual chapters or two long posts for part one and part two.

I am excited to have finished this story and can’t wait to tackle the editing and polishing part of this project to get it ready for publishing - after a break!

Thank you for reading and supporting me. It means a lot. Some of you have made their way into the acknowledgments. Your feedback and comments have been so valuable. I already look forward to sharing the finished book, once it’s ready.

Kind regards,
Ian

Seven red lights were blinking across the map on the screen. The gates were locked. Everything was ready. Monitors around the room showed each one of the locations and rotated between the gate, the unassuming camp dwellers and the water.

He sent the woman away and pulled up his pants. A woman a day for forty years had been fun, but everything can be optimized and cataloged. Both he and God liked the same number. It would be enough and have a better outcome than the man-in-the-cloud’s plan. Every step had been important, but none would be greater than the gift of his genes to the world.

His phone chimed, Internet 2.0 up and running. Confirmation messages kept coming in.

66° 38' S / 81° 55' E - confirmed

69° 13' S / 36° 21' E - confirmed

48° 57' S / 31° 47' W - failed to detonate

65° 35' S / 57° 50' W - confirmed

72° 03' S / 178° 55' W - confirmed

47° 7′ 21″ N, 8° 47′ 8″ E - confirmed

No matter the effort, he still wasn’t completely immune to emotions. Sure, plan B and C were options, but there was a reason why nobody started with them. That last message allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief: he couldn’t count on icebergs and oceans to take care of Zurich.

The rest of the messages came in, the success rate better than calculated, which always renewed his feeling of destiny being fulfilled. Not that there was an alternative: destiny was just another tool for him.

There was no way back, now. A calm washed over him, the crescendo of the last months culminating in two dozen text messages. He wondered about the phrasing in future history books, he didn’t want this climax reduced to a man sitting behind a screen. He’d think of something.

The Zurich screen switched to what remained of the dam. The beauty and power of water. You could always find a group of scientists, military personnel and engineers who were really just kids with a magnifying glass, sun rays and ant fetish, but in a grown-up’s body. At the end of the day, men just liked for stuff to go boom.

The man leaned back, enjoying the visual symphony of what was playing out. Miami would be the last after Zurich. The easiest part. After a slight delay, the others had been taken care of. But what were mere days compared to history?

Of everything he did, the greatest single thing remained convincing everyone that there wasn’t a single person behind all of this. Acting like he didn’t know had become an entertaining hobby. Next to silencing whoever came even an inch closer to understanding.

This was it. He got up. He deserved some fresh air and maybe the next repopulation session, as he liked to think of them. Smirking, his eyes did one last round from screen to screen. Something grabbed his attention and his stomach dropped.

Two lights were blinking green.

- The End -

We’ve probably all been there

by

We write our heart out, carefully crafting, lovingly putting the finishing touches on feelings, ideas, stories transformed into words. Satisfied (or full of dread), we hit that button:

Publish.

Last night, I picked up my handwritten journal for the first time since September. I hadn’t written in it since I created my publication and the House of Chapters.

I almost feel embarrassed to share that when a sentence came out well, I kept thinking “oh, maybe I can turn this into a post”, before telling myself to shut the hell up. It’s been a rough couple weeks. The truth is - and maybe you feel like that too: if I didn’t want anyone (*cough* as many people as possible) to read my stuff, I wouldn’t post it online.

At this point, I need to specify that it’s possible to have a Substack just for fun, write blog posts or an online journal and really not care about being read or getting feedback.

I believe fiction writers have a different way of looking at things. I’ve actually talked to a lot of authors while working on Serials of the Week posts or the Infinite List of Serials. Many agreed that genuinely connecting with other authors, reading each other’s work and getting feedback is one of the best aspects of this platform.

So why isn’t there more of it?

After last week’s post Is Substack the Right Place for Serials? and I decided to work together on this post to compare another platform - where feedback works, but other stuff doesn’t - to Substack, where a lot of stuff works, but feedback is rare.

Scribophile vs. Substack

by

Scribophile.com is set up to require 3 comments on every entry (a <4k word section, often of a novel, but could be an article or poem or short story) before it leaves the queue and makes room for others. So without constructive engagement, the site simply doesn’t function.

When leaving a critique, you will read the following: “Critiques at Scribophile are required to be mostly constructive criticism — that is, actionable ways for the author to improve. Critiques are not rewriting the author’s work for them, but rather they’re using your words to tell the author how to improve on their own.”

Marked failure to do so means your critique is removed, you lose the credit for it and another slot is opened up. Additionally, each critique has on it “like” buttons indicating what a good one is: Thorough / Enlightening / Encouraging / Constructive / Like. Seeing these each time you submit reminds you of the goal of the feedback.

Substack is a different place and we don’t have a desire to turn it into a critique circle; this is a place for publishing. But it would be nice to have a bit more enlightenment or encouragement, no?

I think Substack has a couple of things going against it here. Best case: we see each other as fellow published or aspiring authors, not necessarily as peers who’ve come together for improvement. Worst case: we see each other as competition.

It’s less clear what kind of comments would be helpful or welcome, perhaps because of that element of competition, though honestly I’ve not seen that. Also, since critiques aren’t required we never go through the challenging exercise to build good analytical “muscles” and it can feel lame to just leave another comment saying “I liked it” or maybe “I love the idea and the characters but I have one question…”.

Culture also matters

by

On Scribophile, one can cultivate a group of partners that has higher trust and familiarity, and the universally agreed position is that this vastly improves the experience.

The site has “private spotlights” (an interesting contradiction) to facilitate this, but use of them relies on the user to seek out those they wish to interact with, through social graces, reciprocity, genuine mutual interest, and the ability to accept no.

These skills can be employed on Substack for the same purpose. They aren’t going to guarantee you anything, especially not short term. The goal is shifting the culture, not immediate payment in kind.

So it helps if you recognize that you benefit from performing the sincere, constructive analysis on other work as much as you do from receiving it. And it helps if you genuinely appreciate something in the work of other writers, and enjoy discussing their ideas and craft.

Don’t approach it from a perspective of “one more way to get publicity.” That way, even if the cultural shift ends up being slight, you have grown and enjoyed the process.

That’s my approach, anyway. There’s a temptation to cast a wide net, read many, many people superficially and hope they’ll return the favor, but slowing down seeking depth over breadth is in my opinion a more enriching approach.

A New Feedback Culture on Substack: Triple R

by

So what now? I want to conclude this week’s blog post with actionable advice in the hope of encouraging a new kind of feedback culture on Substack. These three points are related to Lesson 9 & 10 from the 12 Lessons We Learned Writing Serials.

1. Realize what you’re doing here (writing fiction for example) is not unique, but it can be just as special as what others are doing. So connect to others and learn to care about other people’s stories.

2. Read other people’s work (no matter the amount of subscribers!) and leave a comment: something you liked, a quote, an idea. There is always at least one quote you can share - trust me, I know.

3. Reach out to other people. Today. Write a DM or comment to someone with a similar or slightly bigger subscriber count, similar genre: “Hey, I saw that you’re writing a serial / short stories / etc., too. I’d love to read something of yours and give you feedback, would you be interested in doing the same?” You’ve got nothing to lose. The code of conduct from Scribophile can help.

This is possible without a middle-man, but if you need one, I’d like to point out the wonderful experiences many authors from the House of Chapters have made participating in the Reciprocal Reading Events in January and March. If you’re interested, you can always join:

House Of Chapters

HoC Reciprocal Reading Event #2

You’re not late to the party. Reach out…

Read more

6 months ago · 14 likes · 15 comments · Ian Taniels | HouseOfChapters

What about you? Let us know!

• Got any tips on how to get feedback online ?

• Have you had positive experiences regarding feedback on Substack?

• Do you want feedback or are you happy just writing?

• Did we miss something important?

Leave a comment

Today, I want to share Chapter 44 with you. The chapter after this one will conclude this wonderful journey I started on September 9th.

Thank you for reading along and supporting me in the last weeks and months. It is one thing to write a story that you want to share with the world, it is another to actually have people read it.

You’ll find everything you need to get started or get back into the story right after this message. You’ll find my other projects at the end of this email.

Thanks again, have a great week and enjoy the chapter!

Ian

Table of Contents
Who’s who again?
Previous chapter in this arc

Eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, Giacomo thought. But the roads were deserted. It was just habit. So many habits were hard to break, even if it felt like he was suddenly living on a different planet.

He leaned closer and checked the odometer: 43 miles driven. They’d have to stop soon.

Relax, man. I’m not going to get you into trouble with your wife. We can stop any time now, if you want.

Just constantly on edge, sorry. I would have liked to see some water again, have that summer feeling. I promised Dalia fifty miles one way and I know myself: I’ll get physically sick if I break that promise.

You’re good. Let me drive up there. Our eyes will be the only one breaking promises.

Dalia had agreed to this short road trip. She had nodded and smiled the way she always did when she thought it would be good for his mental health. He automatically nodded the same way thinking of that.

He discreetly checked the trunk. The gas canisters had not grown wings. It was simply impossible for them not be able to make it back to the camp. Well, at least based on the amount of fuel. So many other things could happen.

Paranoia was a bitch. But hey, man’s best friend.

A little longer and they’d reach the top of the hill. His stomach would certainly relax then. Gas canisters yes, but no toilet paper. Giacomo tried to think of something else. So he thought about how he had hated knowing of every single war, natural disaster and horrible crime in real time, back when everyone had omniscience in the palm of their hands. Now he hated not knowing what was going on elsewhere.

The grass is always greener. Or maybe there’s no grass left.

The car slowed as they reached the top of hill. Not believing the information his eyes were sending to his brain, he turned to face Mike.

Well, you wanted water. There you have it.

Table of Contents
Who’s who again?
Previous chapter in this arc

In Other news

As part of wonderful project, a Mosaic of Writer’s Lives, I wrote this short post:

In case you’ve missed it

From the House of Chapters:

and I talked about the ups and downs of writing serials on Substack and the ‘query trenches’ of trad publishing in this Episode.

The Infinite List of Serials by Genre is… infinite: Check out 🆕, 🚀 or whatever grabs your attention.

New week, new highlights post. On Fridays.