TREIF (LOOK IT UP)

Medium, Why Do People Who Follow Me Have To Hunt Down My Stories?

This ain’t Kosher, folks

Fleeting images of my parents swirl around my brain these days like fairy floss, probably because I’m getting older and confronting my own mortality. How cliche, yeah? That aside, I miss them. As difficult as our relationship was for a goodly part of my life, there are things I’d like to tell them, that I should have shared when they were alive. And also, I have questions. So many questions.

But, as my mother and father have been “gone” over eight years, I’ll have to settle for a portion of the puzzle that they were and still are to me, and let the missing pieces stay buried, with them.

My father had the soul of a writer and I’ve imagined what he would think about my writing these days, so far removed from that kid whose essays were always read aloud in English class.

As my work evolved and my byline appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and other publications, my folks were thrilled and excited for me. And they were over the moon when my screenwriting took off and I had two short films produced.

As my mom and dad were consistently supportive of my literary efforts, I’d like to believe that they would be behind my work here and on other platforms, even though I’ve shaken a few skeletons from our collective closet.

But, after more than five years howling at the Medium moon, I’m in a very different place, one that feels rather shifty and duplicitous. And, collusive. As in certain people are in on certain things that the rest of us are not.

Plus, while some of us write our hearts out in the hope that what we share resonates with even one reader, we do so with the full knowledge that this type of material is no longer of “value.”

If my parents were a phone call away, and I was to tell them about this platform, specifically, about the writers like myself who’ve been sandbagged, our stories hidden from even our followers, I know how they’d respond.

My Jewish dad would say, “Something’s not Kosher. “ In other words, “not right.” Like blackballing isn’t right. Or shadow banning. Or any number of shoddy exclusions that rob people of their voice because their beliefs don’t align with yours. Or, worse, they speak up and speak out when something’s not Kosher.

My Italian mom, who never minced words would simply call all of this “Bullshit.”

I referenced personal essays, which are now persona non grata so Medium can elevate, or rather “boost” stories about tech and Cannabis. That’s called pandering to obtuse minds with little to no imagination.

Wow, kids! Marijuana! Ever heard of it?

I shit you not, readers, all three of you. A few days ago my entire feed was filled with stories about Cannabis, with one author sharing how he almost lost his life (or “ruined” it, I forget) by smoking weed.

That must have been one ferocious spliff.

And, just the other day, I opened the Medium app to be bitch-slapped by story after story demonizing alcohol, written by clean and sober writers who don’t get that WE GET IT.

To those writers, I say, “Most of us who drink know that booze isn’t good for us. (Not even that bottle of Pino Noir, apparently). And we’re dealing with it in our own, individual ways. Moreover, continuing to rant about how we’re poisoning ourselves is doing more harm than good. So fuck off already, ok?”

Anyway, I’m bleating into the abyss because there’s only so much crap a person can take before they have to let it out. Respectfully, of course as to not offend the perma-offended. That said, I’m not feeling very respectful. Nor am I feeling any respect in return.

Instead, I’m saying what needs to be said. It won’t matter worth a damn, but I’ll feel better for about five minutes, until this piece tanks with the rest of them.

For months, I’ve watched my reads, views, and overall stats plummet straight to the bottom of the Medium cesspool. And, like a goodfella fitted with cement shoes, someone or something is making sure that they stay down.

As a result my “earnings“ are so scant, they’re practically nonexistent. And, to those who spout the fiction that Medium doesn’t owe us anything, grow up, or grow a set, one or the other. We’re paying members here, or some of us are. We don’t get paid for external views, but Medium does. And, if our reads tank which they are because Medium doesn’t want to pay for those either, nor, promote us, then do the math. If chump change works for you, rock on.

Yet, I continue to spew on Medium because it allows me to “just keep writing,” as well as connect with the friends I’ve made. Yet, even though I should be well-prepped for failure, I’m still stunned by the lack of response, again, from people who’ve followed me for years. Because they, like me, have to sift through a turd pile to find something they want to read.

Why is that, Medium? Some kind of answer, even a half-assed one, might help me understand. Perhaps I’ve missed something and followers don’t matter a damn anymore. Is this the case? Then tell us. Tell us anything that makes a bit of sense, how’s that?

Conversely, the writers I follow are all but gone, replaced by content spewers who shamelessly suck up to the new regime. Like kids on a sugar high, they gleefully spout whatever crapola they believe will make their liege lord salivate.

And consider writers who’ve been canceled for having the temerity to criticize some of the preposterous doings on this platform, many of which make little to no sense. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I doubt many in this community said, “Hey, let’s forget about curation and get boosted, instead.” Or, “Let’s hang out on yet another social media site where we can waste even more time spouting even more bullshit.”

Allegedly, Mastodon is supposed to be a perk for those of us padding the MPP. I’m unaware of what this perkage is. Can someone fill me in? I’m guessing writers boost each other up the arse there while the rest of us are left wondering WTF is going on. But what is that worth at the end of the day?

Look, Medium, I can deal with the fact that I’m an acquired taste and not all readers are going to be down with what I write, but you’re not giving them the chance to make up their own minds, and frankly, there is something very Nazi-like about this. And that’s not at all Kosher.

Tell me why I get an email every other day alerting me to new followers and subscribers. Where are they? Are they invisible? Is every single one of them a bot?

Tell me why I just hit 4.7k followers yet the same three people read and comment on my stories. I joke about this repeatedly but funny, it ain’t.

Finally, by the number of writers who appear to be bailing by the day, you might want to examine the status of the alleged “improvements” made here.

In a way, my low status could be the kick in the ass I need to focus on other projects, as it could be for you writers in the same boat. But, still, shouldn’t that be our choice? Doesn’t being virtually kicked to the curb anger you as it does me?

Here, at the end of this long-winded piece would be the perfect spot to end with a heartfelt last question to the emperor. Something akin to whether he gives a damn that so many writers here have lost that joyful sense of freedom that we all felt early on. Like Medium was a kind of literary oasis where we could tell the stories we wanted to tell and that they would matter. And that we mattered.

But, why bother?

© Sherry McGuinn, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

If you can handle it, read every one of my stories and those of other fab Medium writers. I’ll get a couple of shekels and you’ll have full access to this joint! https://sherrymcguinn.medium.com/membership Or, fuck it.

And if this story gave you goosies, please check out the ones I’ve conveniently linked to and my newsletter, Sherry Raw.

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.