I have two Substacks, and at least two minds. Joan of Art is the formal one for the careful essays and reviews, which I rewrite and expand after I’ve recorded them for the Radio Free Rhinecliff show. The other one is the unadorned, first-draft Every Day Until I Die, a real-time chronicle of unfolding everything. As it happens.
The two different Substacks exist because Joan of Art is work, and I’m grateful to the supporters who pay, though it’s also free, while Every Day Until I Die is my letters to friends or to myself to find out what I’m feeling, and so far it doesn’t feel right ask for money for something personal and unrehearsed.
But sometimes two minds beat as one.
Last night I wrote a little entry for Every Day Until I Die directly on the Substack App, on my phone, in bed, and sent it out after I turned off the light.
I titled it “Two Minds” and because of the anti-histamine, the baby aspirin, and the magnesium pill, the Every Day Until I Die entry went out as Joan of Art . When I realized what I’d done, I sent it out to Every Day Until I Die where it belonged , which so confused the algorithm that it then scolded my cherished paying subscribers for attempting to comment.
I apologize for the confusion.
In future Joan of Art— paid or not—will confine itself to matters of culture, and Every Day Until I Die will accept and welcome comments and the algorithm will treat readers with respect and I will never write directly on the app in bed on my phone in the dark again.