Paywalls, begone!

Why I'm democratising REWILD by going open-access

I am very much figuring this whole possibly-making-a-career-online thing out in real-time. Who isn’t in a constant state of muddling through - right?

Lately, paywalls have been on my mind. Originally, when I started this newsletter, I paywalled most of my posts because I was writing about vulnerable topics I didn’t want to be freely available to anyone on the internet. I figured a paywall would provide enough ‘friction’ to protect me, whilst allowing me to share and connect with those who were going through a similar stage in their life. 

Within a few months 150+ people had signed up as paid subscribers. Since then we chat regularly in our group chat and I see the same faces pop up in the comments sections of my posts every week. It’s been the biggest joy of my creative career to date.

Recently, though, I’ve come to realise that my original reasoning for using paywalls has shifted. With practice over the last year I now know what I do and do not feel comfortable writing about. Bar the odd exception, I don’t feel the need to paywall my writing to protect my heart. I know I have exceptionally understanding, caring and thoughtful readers - and whilst we may not always agree, there is boundless room for good discussion. 

So I found myself questioning whether using paywalls still aligns with my values. The types of questions I’ve been mulling over are: 

• If I’m not paywalling to protect myself is it because I am making money and I’m scared of losing paid subscribers if I remove the paywall on future posts?

• Is it fair some readers don’t get access simply because they are not in a position to make a financial contribution?

• Why do I financially support my favourite creators? Is it because I want access to exclusive content or is it because I feel inspired by them? 

• What is my priority in sharing the work I make? Is it making money or creating for the sake of creating? 

The answers to these questions are not necessarily straight-forward. I’m at a stage in my burnout recovery where I’m starting to feel that returning to work in some capacity might be possible (this blog is work, but I’m considering wider options). I feel scared even writing that down because, honestly, some days it still feels like a farfetched dream - but I am determined to remain hopeful and optimistic. 

Part of that journey involves working out whether or not working online is even for me. Over the last few years I have slipped into making money online - it was never the goal, but now it’s become a (gratefully received) reality which I can see the overachiever in me becoming excited about the possibilities. I’m proud I am pausing along the way to take stock and make intentional decisions about what I do and don’t want to say yes to. I let go of Instagram, I let go of YouTube, I let go of a podcast. I know I don’t want to be an influencer. I know I don’t want to be a YouTuber. I know I don’t want to be a podcaster. The crux? I know I don’t want to spend all my time online. 

This is all useful information, but what do I want to do?

Well, I’m still figuring it out - but there seem to be two separate forces at play:

1. The desire as an artist and writer to share things I create; and

2. The need to make money to survive.

The question is: do I want to mix the two? 

I worry that making money online is glamorised these days and that my efforts in this regard erode what I reconnected with my creative journey for: art, connection, love, joy, purpose, exploration. I am so grateful for the financial support I have from you - it is not something I take lightly, especially as a multiply-disabled human - but equally I don’t want to get lost in pursuit of an ideal that isn’t actually mine. I learned that lesson the hard way in my last career. 

I’ve noticed lately that since my reasoning for using a paywall has shifted I have started to become more preoccupied with the idea of how I can make more money and grow more quickly and achieve more through my art and writing. I find myself worrying: What if my email open rate goes down? What if people lose interest in what I have to share? What if I lose paid subscribers? What if I can’t make a sustainable income without social media? The issue is - I don’t think I want my career to be underpinned by these what-ifs. It breeds fear and anxiety in me - my creativity doesn’t like it, and I don’t think my brain likes it either. 

Of course fear and anxiety are going to be something I experience in any walk of life, but I suspect most creators, artists, and writers who make money or a living online know what I mean when I say specifically relying upon your creativity for an income via platforms owned by tech companies breeds a specific all-encompassing type of dread. The illusion is that you’re working for yourself but these companies know how to tap into your fears, to make you feel like you’re never churning out enough posts or doing enough to prove yourself worthy of your readers time and money. Why? Because if we make money they make money.

The energy exchange involved in this process feels icky, and my creativity thrives on the opposite - freedom. 

This is a much bigger conversation than me and my little newsletter. Artists have questioned their relationship to money, and how it impacts their creative practice, since the beginning of time. There is no one right answer, of course - just the right answer for me right now. 

The ideal would be making enough money to survive independently whilst creating whatever I want and making as much of it as possible freely available to everyone. I will always charge for the creative projects I make, but I love the idea of my everyday thoughts and interests (that make up the majority of this blog) being free to all. If readers generously offer financial support because they feel inspired by what I share, then all the better.

If I lean into that inner knowing, I think where I am landing is this:

• I will share everything in my newsletter without paywalls

• I will not accept sponsorships or ads (never have here, never will) 

• I will graciously accept financial support from patrons

• I will charge for creative projects I make by paywalling them (mainly because I don’t yet have a website so don’t have any way of charging for them elsewhere)

Okay, maybe it is simpler than I thought.

Perhaps the complexity is in my fear of failure - of losing paid subscribers, of not making more money, of giving up an opportunity that the online growth gurus are telling me will make me rich and famous. The fear is real, but if I listen closely I know the answer - I have to walk through that fear, trust my knowing, and in the end what will be will be. Whether that’s making a living through my art because of the patronage of my supporters, or needing to supplement my income by working with dogs outside all day, I don’t know - but, given time, I’ll work it out. 

Taking a wider perspective on this personal conundrum, I can’t help but notice the shifting tide of the tone of the internet. When the internet was first developed it was created for the quick and free exchange of information between individuals across the world. Now, I’m hard pressed to do research on a topic without hitting multiple paywalls asking me to sign up, pay more, share more.

Yes, I believe writers and artists should be adequately paid for their work - but the consequence of individuals paywalling content is fractured access to information that is killing the democracy of the internet. Instead of pooling together, we are pulling apart - the individual is being chosen over the collective, which is a theme I see time and time again in culture these days.

I’m not bashing subscription models full-stop. I think there are valid reasons to use them. But now that my valid reason (protecting my vulnerability) is no longer a factor I don’t see myself paywalling my newsletter for the sake of trying to drive readers to pay for access. It’s just not me. Sure, it’s different when it comes to creative projects - like zines, artwork, books - but I would love for what I choose to share in this newsletter to be a contribution to a global pool of knowledge and experience. If readers wish to extend financial support for that along the way, then that’s the cherry on the cake.

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A note for patrons: If this essay has changed your decision about being a patron of REWILD and you wish to discontinue your patronage you can do so by following these steps. If you’re still on board with my shift in values, thank you for sticking around and for all of the support you’ve showed me so far - I truly appreciate you.

WEEKLY NOTES

Thank you for your response to my essay ‘My smartphone stole my reality’. It turns out many of you are struggle to stay off your phones too. I’m writing another essay on this topic at the moment, so stay tuned.

Aurora’s new album ‘What Happened To The Heart?’.

Information addiction is rotting our brains by

Gurwinder

.

Zines by

Natalie Harney

.

The first half of Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention by Johann Hari. I shared initial thoughts in my latest Book Notes here. I’m now reading the second part in the knowledge that some of you didn’t enjoy his take on ADHD - should be interesting! I’ll report back, probably next week.

Last week’s community thread about how we each use social media was a source of great tips. Do you have a question you want to ask everyone who reads REWILD? Email me and it could be the subject of our next community thread (charlierewilding@gmail.com).

A vlog of moments from May (the style of which is heavily inspired by Emily Hubbard of

POMELO

- I love her vlogs!).

I’m still creating everyday instead of spending time on screens.

LOGGED

houses my daily progress but here are a few of my favourite creations from the last week or so:

Read more about this piece here

Read more about this piece here

Read more about making my first zine here

Thank you for reading! xoxo

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