On Substack
Something strange happened on the way to Mexico
I’ve got to admit, I’m a creature of habit. Change eludes me.
So, for many years now, upon arriving at the airport, after making it through security, I’ve stopped at whatever newsstand is handy, and picked up a copy of the New Yorker to read on the plane. I’ve always found it a great way to lose myself in the written word while on a dreadful flight. (And aren’t they all dreadful?)
The other day, after waiting at security while they checked to make sure that Melinda’s box of ginger snap cookies weren’t some kind of explosive (yep, can’t make this stuff up) I hit the first bookseller. No New Yorker. Strange I thought, the New Yorker is probably the most prestigious magazine in the world. No worries, I wandered down to the next bookseller. Nope, no New Yorker here.
I picked up a copy of The Atlantic instead. Probably not quite as prestigious as the New Yorker, but close, and no slouch.
But then I didn’t read it. Well, to be honest I read a bit of it, but not much. It just wasn’t all that interesting to me.
Before I left the hotel that morning, I had pre-loaded a number of Substack posts into my browser. (Yep, I’m too damn cheap to pay for in-air WiFi, I need to save that money for my little bottles of booze!)
And those Substack posts, from a wide variety of writers are what did it for me.
It used to be the New Yorker, but now, why?
Substack is filled with writers from world famous literary giants, to undiscovered gems. Writing about every subject imaginable.
OK, so in fairness, there is a lot that isn’t great too, but with care one can find the very best, most diverse writing in the world, on this platform, today.
I fly again tomorrow, so I’ve got maybe forty posts opened in their own browser windows. I’ll have plenty to read about the success
had with NaNoWriMo ten years ago, to sharing her recipe for homemade eggnog, to Brother extolling the virtues of Wendy’s Hamburgers and Chili.What could be a better way to spend time on an airplane?
When I travel, I read a lot of books. These days so I don’t fly on planes too often. It’s a great passive activity while you sit for sometimes 16 hours depending on your destination. In the 80s I read two books going from Los Angeles to Johannesburg.
I don't disagree, my friend.