I'm Trying To Make It As An Online Writer. These 9 Habits Suck

Trying to succeed as an online writer has made me slightly unhinged.

One of my Medium stories attracts readers. Lots of them. And I'm vibing. I feel like I've finally broken through Medium's super scary algorithm. But then the very next one disappears.

A thoughtful Quora answer takes off while the piece I labored over for Substack receives twelve views. My Substack subscribers stop opening emails. Instagram demands a carousel. TikTok wants my entire face, voice, and preferably my soul delivered in under sixty seconds.

WTF dude?

Everyone has advice. Publish more. No wait, publish less. Choose a narrower niche, widen it. Improve your hooks. Dissect the algorithm. Post at precisely 8:17 am on Tuesday morning while wearing a green shirt and eating a banana.

I’m testing all of it. And eating lots of fruit in the process.

But I’m also starting to suspect that the platforms aren’t always the problem. What did I just say? No way. I can't blame Medium, Substack, Quora, Facebook, Instagram or TikTok?

Maybe I've finally cracked.

Before I Blame Another Algorithm

Yes, I'll admit it's easy and super convenient to blame algorithms because algorithms cannot defend themselves. They are those evil villains hiding inside the monster AI (queue the scary laughter).

Sure I know the reason for all the crickets around my writing. Medium didn’t distribute my story. Substack didn’t send the email. Instagram buried my post. TikTok showed my video to the wrong people. Facebook decided that my followers would rather see an advertisement for orthopedic shoes.

Any of those explanations may be true. Or complete delusions on my part.

But what if people saw my work and chose not to read it? What if they clicked and I gave them a reason to leave?

That possibility is borderline devastating to my writing ego. It's also more useful because I can't control what a platform does one I press the publish button.

All I can do is control what happens after someone finds me and my work.

As I study successful writing across different platforms, I keep noticing similar habits that contributes to the crickets conundrum of why people aren't reading what I consider my best words.

And in the spirit of hard truths, I'll admit I've committed most of them and probably a lot more often than just a few times.

1. Making The Headline A Guessing Game

All writers, whether online or writing an e-book are repeatedly told to create curiosity. Some of us respond by withholding nearly every useful work and detail.

One heading I've tried is: This Changed Everything For Me

What changed? I'm not telling my readers if it's my career, my hairstyle, my laundry detergent or my long term relationship.

Yikes. Right.

While a vague headline may create mystery, it also asks readers to gamble with their precious time. Most people scrolling through a crowded feed will not bother. If it looks to clickbaity, it probably is.

A stronger version gives prospective readers something they can sink their teeth into:

The Headline Change That Finally Made People Read My Work

Now that headline creates curiosity, but readers understand the subject and the potential reward. It is worth their time or not? At least they know before they waste a second.

This headline fix will matter everywhere. Medium readers scan lists of stories. Substack readers decide whether to open an email. Quora users look for direct answers. Instagram and TikTok give creators seconds to stop a moving thumb.

The headline doesn't need to reveal everything. It needs to reveal enough. And after all, headlines are just one part of your total story, but it makes a huge difference.2

2. Writing Paragraphs That Look Corporal Punishment

Too much text gives readers another reason to bail. The solution is not turning every sentence into a separate paragraph.

That creates a different problem. The writing becomes breathless and starts sounding as if every observation deserves its own

Learn to breathe while you're writing. Look for natural pauses. That can be connected to a new thought, enlightening example, poignant question, or change in direction.

All of those things rightfully deserve a new paragraph.

White space gives the reader somewhere to breathe. And if someone criticizes the fact that you are deliberately adding white space, ignore them.

They haven't been sweating blood writing words for decades.

3. Asking Readers To Do A Ton Of Things

I have seen articles end like this:

Subscribe to my newsletter. Follow me on Instagram. Leave a comment. Share this post. Buy my course. Read these four related articles. Find me on TikTok. Tell your mother. Pet your dog, wave goodbye.

By the time readers reach the very end, they need instructions for following the instructions.

Every additional request competes with the others. When people are given too many choices, doing nothing becomes the easiest choice as their eyes glaze over and they start to sweat.

Try to decide before you write your story and what platform it will go on to figure out what you want most from each piece of content.

Is a Substack post designed to start a conversation. Will a Quora answer direct readers to a longer article. An Instagram post may encourage people to save it. A Sayzio story may introduce readers to my larger body of work.

At least's that why I love Sayzio. It's like a billboard that people who don't know me will see.

One story doesn't have to perform every job in my online-writing business. Remember what I said early? Breathe, create white space. Give your readers just one clear request.

That's probably all they want and it's just enough to minimize eye rolls.

4. Softening Every Opinion Until It Disappears

Certain words creep into my drafts whenever I become nervous:

Absolutely

Probably

Somehow

I think

It seems to me

There are times when careful qualification is the responsible path forward.

Obviously if I'm writing about scientific research, food safety, health, the law, or another complicated subject, absolute certainty may be misleading. I'm not the expert. I'm writing about information that I researched from those people.

On the flip side, uncertainty can also become a verbal dark cave.

Consider this sentence:

I think many online writers probably focus way too much on posting frequency.

But look how much better this sentence plays when I remove the protective padding:

Online writers focus too much on posting frequency.

The second sentence has energy. It pops. Right?

If I believe something strongly enough to publish it, I should be willing to state it instead of pussy footing around.

Readers can and will disagree. But that's one of the risks of having an opinion in public. Especially on Social Media where they are faceless readers.

5. Refusing To Stop A Sentence

Long sentences aren't necessary evil. Some of the best sentences ever written are long, elegant, and beautifully controlled.

Mine aren't always among them.

Sometimes I begin with one idea, add a clarification, remember an exception, insert an example, and keep going until neither the reader nor I remember what the hell I'm trying to say.

If I can't remember how can my readers?

Reading or listening to the draft out loud will expose the damage. If I lose my breath, trip over the meaning, or feel an uncontrollable urge to add another five commas, the sentence may need to be trimmed.

I also force myself to stop and search for repeated explanations. Writers often make a good point and then weaken it by making the same point three or four or five more times.

The strongest sentence can stand all by itself.

Its three anxious assistants can leave.

6. Repeating Phrases The Internet Has Destroyed

Online writing has its own collection of exhausted expressions:

Build your brand.

Provide massive value.

Crush your goals.

Unlock the secret.

Take your content to the next level.

These phrases may have meant something in the past. Now they pop up everywhere in hundreds of online articles, courses, newsletters, and promotional videos without making much of an impression. If anything they become grating.

I’m trying to replace broad promises with specific outcomes.

Instead of saying I will help you “build an audience,” I might explain that I’m investigating how occasional visitors become regular readers.

Instead of promising to help you “increase engagement,” I can talk about how you might encourage more people to answer a question, leave a comment, or share a story.

Specific words create their own picture. Familiar marketing language creates static and potential irritation.

If a sentence sounds as though it could have been copied from ten thousand websites, it probably needs more of me and my words inside it.

7. Settling For The First Word That Works

The very first draft is for getting your ideas onto the page. The edit is where I decide whether I used the right words.

A post didn't merely do well. It attracted readers, started arguments, generated subscriptions, or spread far beyond the writer’s existing audience.

A reader was not simply unhappy. She was disappointed, irritated, furious, or exhausted.

Those differences matter.

A thesaurus can help, but the goal is not to find the longest or most impressive word. Online writers already face enough pressure to sound authoritative.

The best word is the one that makes the meaning unmistakable.

Precision sounds more intelligent than decoration.

8. Making A Promise The Content Cannot Keep

Clickbait creates an uncomfortable bargain.

The writer gets the clicks but the reader gets the disappointment.

A title such as The Only Writing Advice You Will Ever Need makes an enormous promise. Unless Stephen King will personally call you to give you the advice to share, your content will probably fall short.

The immediate numbers may look encouraging. The long-term result is less impressive. Your readers won't trust you.

Someone who feels tricked may not read your next article, open your next newsletter, or stop to watch your next video. Readers rarely announce they no longer trust a creator. They simply keep scrolling.

This is very dangerous when you're trying to build an identity across several platforms. You're not chasing one isolated click. You want people to recognize your name and believe we will respect their time.

A modest promise that is fulfilled can build trust. But a spectacular promise that collapses can destroy it.

9. Trying Too Hard To Sound Like An Expert

This may be the easiest trap for a new online persona to fall into.

The internet rewards confidence. Have you noticed that people who learned something on Tuesday can begin teaching a masterclass by Friday? It's a little scary but a common thing.

That practice creates pressure to sound certain, successful, and authoritative before we've earned any of those descriptions.

Complicated language becomes part of the costume. We utilize methodologies instead of trying methods. We facilitate audience development instead of finding readers.

What I'm Going To Be Testing As A Writer

I would rather tell people what I.m testing, what happened when I did, and what I still don't understand. And there's a lot I really don't get.

That doesn't mean writers should sound timid. It means there's a big difference between having a strong opinion and pretending to possess the final answer.

Christopher Isher is not standing on top of Mount Everest shouting instructions to everyone below. First of all, I'm afraid of extreme heights.

And secondly I'm still trying to figure out if I can even make it to base camp without freaking out.

In the process of all of this, yes, I'm still climbing and I’m reporting what I see along the way. Dealing with my fear of heights will come later.

I’m going to keep experimenting with Medium, Substack, Quora, Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and whatever new platform appears five minutes after I publish this.

I want to know why the same idea can succeed in one place and disappear in another. I want to know whether posting constantly creates an audience or simply exhausts the writer. I want to know how much the algorithm matters and how often we use it to avoid examining our own work.

But before I adopt another complicated content strategy, I’m starting with what I can control.

I can write a clearer headline.

I can shorten the paragraph that looks like homework.

I can make one request instead of seven.

I can remove the timid words, recycled phrases, inflated language, and promises I can't or just don't want to keep.

Maybe the secret to growing online is not publishing more content. Or possibly it begins with giving readers fewer reasons to leave.

. . .