What the Hell Happened to Medium?

With recent algorithmic changes and the death of curation, it no longer feels like the platform I fell in love with

A few weeks ago, I celebrated my one-year anniversary on Medium. And like many anniversaries, it felt bittersweet. For while I’ve found a fair bit of success overall and achieved many of the goals I’d initially set out to accomplish, recently, it seems as if my trajectory has taken a turn for the worse.

In my year of writing here, I’ve conscientiously avoided penning any “meta” articles such as this one, focused solely on the platform itself. Partly, that has been due to Medium’s policy of not curating such articles (which, as I’ll get to shortly, now seems to be a moot point). And partly, it’s because I tend to find such articles dull, and I typically mute any authors who churn them out as their standard fare.

Yet with that said, I also find myself irresistibly drawn to clicking on them. Because let’s be honest — every writer here hopes to have their work read. Every writer hopes their words will reach a wider audience, and their ideas will disseminate out into society and perhaps, however feebly, have some level of influence on its direction.

And that means mastering not just the craft but also the idiosyncrasies of the platform. To that end, we’re all looking for any tips or tidbits that might tilt things in our favor.

But lately, it feels like that tilt has see-sawed in the wrong direction. Considering how inscrutable the almighty algorithm is, how it’s essentially a “black box” whose inner workings are completely opaque to all but the higher echelons of Medium’s management and software engineers, it’s difficult to say what, exactly, has changed.

I know that the new CEO, Tony Stubblebine, has initiated a number of reforms. One of the most impactful of them seems to be the elimination of the “Chosen for further distribution” label on articles that get curated. And I’m sure many other tweaks have been made behind the scenes. But whatever the changes, they seem to have had a rather detrimental impact on my success here and, consequently, on the pleasure I get from writing here.

I’m guessing (hoping) I’m not the only one who has experienced it, but starting in late September, my typical views and reads have fallen off a cliff. Like, massively. Articles that used to garner a few hundred views are now lucky to get a few dozen. It’s highly discouraging.

When you spend six hours carefully composing an essay, revising it, reviewing it, sleeping on it for a night, and then reviewing and revising it again, only to have it read by a mere handful of people, it makes you start to question whether that’s a productive use of your time.

This is particularly true when you already have a full-time job and familial responsibilities, and writing is merely a side gig (although you continually fantasize about being able to do it full-time and still pay the bills).

I don’t care about my earnings, but I do care about connecting with people and getting them to consider new ideas and perspectives. But that can’t happen if no one even knows your work exists, much less reads it.

Part of what I like about Medium has been the sense of community. Having ditched nearly all other forms of social media, finding them either toxic or hollow, Medium has been a welcome reprieve, a place to connect with fellow writers and to be exposed to novel analyses of current events that you seldom find elsewhere. But even that seems to have gone by the wayside.

Ever since they got rid of the row of bio pics along the top of the screen that showed you all the new pieces produced by all the people you follow, I find it really difficult to read such pieces without making a concerted effort to track them down on my own. Why did they do that?

And I’m sure it cuts both ways. I find that my regular readers no longer comment or interact with my writings as much as they used to, and I’m guessing it’s largely because they don’t see them anymore.

Or maybe it’s a problem of numbers. To be honest, I follow way too many people here. Mostly, it’s from a sense of reciprocity, of giving authors who follow me the respect of following them back. And sometimes it’s an artifact, a fluke of having once read a particular article that resonated but which turns out to be a one-off performance, and yet the follow of the author it engendered lingers on.

If I could, I’d only follow perhaps a dozen or so writers. There is really only a handful whose writings I consistently enjoy, whose articles I click on every time they appear in my feed. And I’ll admit, I’m always a bit jealous of those who have thousands of followers but only follow a small number in return. It speaks to the quality of their work (or perhaps just dumb luck, or maybe they’re simply savvier in how they interact with the platform).

And, of course, the problem may lie with me. Could it be that I’ve somehow developed the literary equivalent of halitosis, leading readers to stay well away? Have I been pigeonholed by some controversial stance I’ve taken on some particular issue that has since tarnished everything I write? Have I been blackballed by the readership or perhaps by the platform itself, getting sent to the dreaded and semi-mythical “curation jail”?

It’s hard to say. Regardless, though, I find myself hanging on by a thread these days. I continue to write because I love writing. I write because there are some things I want to be permanently on the public record as me having stated, with my perspective preserved for posterity (and hopefully being, if not prophetic, then at least on the right side of history as judged by future generations).

But if things continue as they have been, if hours and hours of my effort and my hopes and dreams continue to amount to little more than pissing in the wind, then it seems foolish to continue down this path. My energy and whatever talent I may have can be applied better elsewhere (like toward my long-neglected novel).

So I’m curious to hear your thoughts. Have others experienced these same negative effects as I have? Are you considering abandoning the platform (however sadly and reluctantly) and striking out for greener pastures? Let me know!

Meanwhile, I guess I’ll be sacrificing a goat upon an altar soon to regain the holy algorithm’s favor. And if that fails, then I hope at least the kids enjoy roasted goat for Christmas!

Colby Hess is a freelance writer and photographer from Seattle and author of the freethinker children’s book The Stranger of Wigglesworth.

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