I was the 24th Funniest Writer on Substack! And then, I wasn't.
On writing and vanity. WRITTEN & ILLUSTRATED by A HUMBLED PETER MOORE
THE NOTIFICATION POPPED ONTO MY PHONE last Tuesday morning: Peter Moore is #24 in Humor Rising on Substack. My first reaction was the correct one: What the hell? So I went on to work my next column-toon for The Oldster, a genius newsletter for the long-in-tooth.
Like me.
I was buzzing along on my essay about old people attending concerts given by even older performers, and being the target of jibes by “them.” You know “them”—they’re the most obnoxious bullies this side of a sales meeting of Tesla dealers! Read all about it on May 19th!
But I hit a sticking point in the writing and drawing, so my advanced procrastination techniques kicked in: I’m the 24th most what?
I began clicking around to find Substack’s leaderboards, which include all of the top Substackers. I eventually located the humor section—itself a humbling journey, because it was buried below many more important leaderboards—and by God there I was in the top 25. It felt great.
Briefly.
Envy came next. I surveyed the usual suspects at the top of my category, including
(#3, natch) and (#16).
OK, no shame in finishing below those guys.
My next move was to take a look at who was, you know, below me, so I could puff up with pride over my exalted and humorous state. Oh look:
at #28—late-night opinionator, longtime correspondent on the Daily Show, and host of sold-out comedy shows across the nation.And she was looking up at my flabby, exalted ass!
I kept scanning down, and down, and down, until I found
, looking very lame at #66. I guess that’s what happens when Larry David singles you out as an ass-kissing enabler forI could barely even see Herr Maher from my high perch, all the way up at #24!
My next desperate thought: This was a promotional opportunity!
Surely my status as #24th funniest blogger in an obscure corner of Substack would draw thousands of fans and subscribers!
I went out with it on Substack Notes. Facebook. Instagram. And even the most boring website known to humankind: LinkedIn.
Crickets.
As I stared into the chirrup-filled void, I bragged about my triumph to my dear wife, who is always supportive. She was impressed, bless her heart, and sent out a text message to family, informing them that I was #24 in something-or-other. Soon the text messages began rolling in!
They said: “Where is he on that list? I can’t find him.”
I chuckled at their online ineptitude, and searched again for my super-fabulous listing myself.
«PAUSE» «CRY OF ANXIETY AND EMBARRASSMENT»
I had vanished! Twenty-four hours later I wasn’t even in the top 100!
Here’s the part you’ve been dreading: There’s A Lesson In This.
For my whole adult-ish life I’ve worked in an industry—publishing—driven by vanity. After all, writers are a subspecies of humans who don’t feel like they exist unless they see their names in print.
I remember looking in wonder at my first by-line and thinking: Now I am somebody! Then I tracked my progress up various magazine mastheads, thinking: I’m ahead of that guy! And I’ll leap over that one soon!
Loathsome. Pathetic. Needy.
After the magazine industry died—I didn’t kill it I swear!—I launched my Substack. And nobody noticed, except my wife and a few dear friends. OK, it got better once I figured out that this was humor newsletter, and that my drawings could do the heavy lifting. Eventually, 12,000 of you signed on here, which is an astonishing number.
Now I get more feedback from readers on a random Tuesday than I did from the 20 million readers of Men’s Health in the twenty years I worked there.
But it isn’t enough! My vanity cries out for more success, bigger numbers, and, oddly, #24 on the Rising Humor list.
I made it! For a single day. Now I’m nowhere to be found. My big moment turned out to be a big nothing.
Which returns me to The Lesson: You can’t eat adulation for dinner. Worse yet, it’s temporary. Today’s pan-flash is tomorrow’s dumpster fire.
I’m done with that now.
At least until I reappear on the list, far above Bill Maher, and I can again convince myself that I belong here.
Not just on Substack. On the planet.
“Vanitas Vanitatum! Which of us is happy in this world? Which of us has his desire? Or, having it, is satisfied?” ― William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair
Looking to find more great newsletters where you (probably) found this one? Click this link! You get cool things to read, I get cold hard cash from the guy who runs the Refind.com. Everybody wins!
Or, just help pay for my therapist. If you contribute generously enough, I’ll feel well enough to stop posting here twice a week.
Many thanks for sharing my derangement on the Road2Elsewhere.
Easy come, easy go.
Great chuckles! I forwarded this to my brother who is the retired editor of the Waco Tribune Herald. He got a good laugh from it to and told me about a recent encounter he had where he got some ego stroking from a former reader of his column. Your drawings are terrific, and funny 🤣