The Holiday Gift Your Writer Friend Really, Really Wants This Year

Engagement begets engagement. Here's what that means (and it's not about diamond rings or elephants).

It’s not a notebook. It’s not a Starbucks card. It’s not indecent.

What your writer friend wants this year is exposure.

“Exposure” is a red flag in some creative communities. As a person who sews as well as writes, I’ve seen my fair share of angst in the online sewing world among those who have been cheated out of fair payment for their skills in exchange for “exposure.” Exposure doesn’t pay the bills! say disgruntled sewists… and designers… and musicians… and just about any creator you can think of.

Except writers.

Writers who are looking to build a reputation and an income in the fast-paced, highly competitive world of blogging and freelancing do want exposure. They want as many eyes on their work as possible. And despite the recent throttling of external links (to Substack, Medium, Wordpress, etc.) on many social media platforms, engagement usually begets engagement.

(I cannot read the word “engagement” in any context without thinking of Squire Hamley in the 1999 BBC Wives and Daughters. When the insufferable Mrs. Gibson smugly informs him that a prior commitment has prevented her stepdaughter from visiting his family, saying, “I’m sure you will acknowledge that an engagement IS an engagement,” he barks back, “Did I say an engagement was an elephant, ma’am?”)

image via BBC

Website algorithms feed off of trends. If Beverly writes a bland account of how she makes her morning oatmeal, posts a link to her work on Facebook, and two people click on it… a few friends of those two people might see it in their “suggested” feed. But after those two friends have read it — and even if one of them clicks “like” out of pity —Facebook will decide no one else cares about seeing it, and it will schloop down into the archives of the rest of Beverly’s work, never to be seen again. (Schloop is definitely a word, or at least it should be.)

Serves Beverly right for writing about oatmeal, I guess.

But the problem with algorithms is that they hurt writers who publish interesting pieces, too. Suppose Tallulah writes a piece featuring her top tips for camping with a toddler. (Couldn’t be me. I’m too grateful for indoor plumbing.) Tallulah is witty and knows her subject well. Her article is tightly written, interesting, and even has a fantastic punchline at the end. But when she shares it with her friends, no one clicks the link, hits the “like” button, or shares it to their own feeds. And because the algorithm is a mean girl who only wants to sit with the popular pieces, Tallulah’s link isn’t suggested to anyone else. Like Beverly’s oatmeal, Tallulah’s camping instructions slide down the garbage disposal in a glutenous mass of irrelevance.

Now consider Ethel, another imaginary writer pulled from my stash of old-lady names (you never know when such lists will come in handy). Ethel wrote about true crime (almost always a hit topic), in a skillful manner (keeping the reader interested) and she chose a killer — pun not intended — title and subtitle (yes, you have to explain a little bit about the piece and intrigue readers with that throwaway sentence at the top). Ethel posts a link to her piece on the social media platform du jour (who knows what that even is anymore? Curse you, Musk and Zuck!), and her friends not only click the link, they retweet/skeet/thread it. They reply. They copy the actual URL of the piece (manually! These are ride-or-die friends!) and share it on other platforms. Their friends see it, and they share it. The algorithm sits up, takes notice of Ethel, and realizes people like her work. Before long, her work gets suggested to perfect strangers, climbs higher in Google search results, lands her a book deal, and opens a portal to Narnia.

See what a little generous clicking can do? Think about that next time you’re standing in the checkout line with yet another pair of fuzzy reindeer socks.

Ethel’s runaway success isn’t a guarantee, for many reasons (not least of which is the fact that I made her up and no part of her story is true). But you can make a difference for that friend of yours who writes, just as Ethel’s friends did for her. It’s a simple, 5-step process… and best of all, it’s free to you (but may mean $$$ for your friend, don’t forget! Many writers earn money based on clicks and reads!).

1. Read your friend’s work. Obvious? Yes. Important? Also yes. Don’t share what you can’t endorse!

2. React to your friend’s social media posts about their work (on multiple platforms if possible!).

3. Comment on the social media post, or on the actual piece… or both! Even if it’s something as inane and simple as “loved this” or “this was great.” An engagement is an engagement! No one wants an elephant for Christmas, despite what Gayla Peevey may have to say about hippopotami!

4. Share the link to your friend’s work, ideally with a few words of your own explaining why people should read it.

5. Bask in the warm glow of your friend’s appreciation, knowing you’ve done a good (and simple!) deed.

Even if no one reads the articles you share, even if no one follows your example to like and subscribe, even if Oprah isn’t inspired to pick your friend’s work for book club, the support and encouragement you will have provided is very important to the care and keeping of writer friends.

And just think of the money you’ll save on notebooks, overpriced coffee, and fuzzy socks that shed in the laundry.

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(If you liked this post, you know what to do. And if you really liked this post, and want to support my writerly endeavors this Christmas, upgrading your subscription to this Substack is a great way to do that too! But either way, just the fact that you read it means a lot to me. More than any blank notebook ever could.)