Writing Without Virality

Why I Choose Authenticity

The Illusion of Instant Credibility

The Illusion of Instant Credibility by AI

It has never been easier to brand oneself as an “independent journalist” or a “relevant commentator.” A well-crafted bio, a steady stream of posts, and a basic understanding of online engagement are often enough to project authority. The internet rewards confidence, sometimes more than actual expertise. And in this landscape, where virality is often mistaken for credibility, building an audience can feel more like a game than a true exchange of ideas.

I’ve watched it happen. Some writers arrive on a platform like Medium, declare themselves thought leaders, and within months, they’ve amassed thousands of subscribers, not necessarily because they offer deep insights, but because they know how to play to outrage, craft shareable takes, and follow the ever-shifting winds of digital discourse.

Meanwhile, my growth has been slower. Not stagnant, but not meteoric either. And I understand why. Because I write for different reasons.

Why I Choose the Harder Path

I Choose the Harder Path by AI

I could chase trends and fine-tune my writing to maximize clicks, engagement, and algorithmic favour. But that would mean sacrificing something I care about deeply: authenticity.

I write because I have something to say, not because I need to say something for attention. I write about life in Ontario after years living abroad in the USA and Hong Kong, not the curated, polished version, but the real experience of living here, with its beauty and frustrations. I write about current events, not to jump into the noise, but because these issues matter to me. They deserve honest conversations, not just hot takes engineered for maximum reach.

And I write about the things that linger, the topics that don’t neatly fit into a headline, and the concerns that persist even when the news cycle has moved on. It’s why I continue covering issues in Ontario: the provincial election, the state of work culture, and the realities of living here, even when there are more “engaging” topics to chase; like the spectacle of Donald Trump’s second presidency or the growing anti-American sentiment in Canada.

I know the trade-offs. My podcast episodes about forgotten topics rarely generate as much attention as those discussing trending global events. My thoughts on Ontario’s job market don’t lead to a spike in subscribers like my posts on Trump’s impact on international politics do. The reality is clear: most of my readership comes from the United States, Canada, and the rest of the world. That insight from my dashboard tells me a lot.

And yet, I stay the course.

The Challenge of Writing What Matters

When I first started, some readers assumed my work had a specific political slant because I was critical of Justin Trudeau and used the Canadian flag in my branding. Those same readers later unsubscribed when they saw my critiques of Trump, my extreme dislike of Doug Ford, or my skepticism toward Pierre Poilievre. That experience made one thing clear: many people don’t seek independent thought. They seek reinforcement of their existing beliefs.

That is not the kind of writing I want to do.

At the same time, I know what I am, and what I’m not. I’m not an investigative journalist with access to high-level sources or exclusive leaks. I don’t have the insider connections that some former mainstream media figures who migrated to Substack do. I’m also not a content creator who thrives on YouTube drama, even though I have a YouTube channel where I repurpose my articles into shorts and repost my podcasts. I’ve seen how covering internet feuds can skyrocket engagement, but honestly? I find it boring. There are plenty of YouTube channels already doing that better.

The Trade-Offs of Integrity

This approach doesn’t lead to explosive subscriber growth. Authenticity isn’t always viral, and it often works against rapid expansion. It means resisting the pressure to frame every issue in the most sensational way possible. It means refusing to chase controversy for the sake of engagement.

And yet, I wouldn’t do it any other way.

When someone reads or subscribes to my writing, I know it’s not because they were baited by a click-worthy headline. It’s because something I wrote resonated with them. After all, they saw value in a perspective that wasn’t just designed to confirm their biases or provoke an emotional reaction.

That means more to me than any viral post ever could.

What Really Matters

In a world dominated by fleeting attention spans and surface-level discourse, slow and steady growth can feel like a losing strategy. But I remind myself: I’m not here to win the internet. I’m here to write. To think. To contribute to meaningful conversations.

I believe that, in the long run, substance matters more than spectacle. A dedicated community, no matter how small, is far more valuable than an audience built on momentary clicks. Depth will always outlast virality.

So if you’re here, reading this, you’re part of that community. And for that, I’m grateful.

If you value thoughtful, honest commentary over performative punditry, I invite you to stick around. Share, subscribe, and engage. If you’re interested, I’ve even set up a merch store for those who have asked about getting a T-shirt featuring the artwork from my articles or the publication’s logo.

At the end of the day, this is not about chasing the biggest audience. It’s about writing with purpose. And if that resonates with even a handful of people, then it’s worth it.