How does "going viral" affect our internal systems?

Like me! Share me! Say that you love me!

I recently shared a quote from Olivia Meunter’s essay – The Optimized Life Won’t Save You – on Notes. The subject was about spending less time online, but there was another part of her essay that stuck with me for a few days. I couldn’t shake it from my head, so I figured that meant I needed to write about it.

“I think of this phenomenon a lot lately as I wade through the daily barrage of “I quit Instagram for good and now only use Substack, and my life has changed” content on Notes. I’ve shared a lot about how cutting back on my own social media use has benefitted me over the course of the last year, and I agree that Substack is a medium that feels better. But it is also, very much so, still social media. I can personally say that there is virtually no chemical difference to the dopamine I feel when a post does well here, racking up likes and comments, compared to the same experience on Instagram. There is also no difference when a post bombs. And I know for a fact that there is a current of envy that snakes through this place, too, even though Notes would have us all believe it’s nothing but freehand journaling and eldest daughters and hot tea and Joan Didion (all good things, to be clear).

I am surely not the only one who compares the number of subscribers, likes, shares. Who sees the leader board posts. Who can’t ignore the small, specific circles of Substack It Girls as they emerge in fashion or books or cultural criticism. Yes, there are nuances to explore; Instagram is a more aesthetic platform, and a lack of likes or comments there inflames a whole slew of physical insecurities that a poorly-received essay can never quite emulate (though, in some ways, the latter can hurt more). A Substack post would probably never compel me to shop quite the way a swipe-up link does. But the basics of the emotional experience are exactly the same. There are pros, there are cons. There are highs, there are lows.

I am going to be the first to wholeheartedly congratulate anyone who quits Instagram entirely, now more than ever. And I love Substack because of how it has changed my career and the opportunity it provides to creatives, but my savior it is certainly not. If I am not careful, I fall into the very same patterns here that I can fall into on Instagram. I keep both the apps off my phone for that reason, and I still enjoy them both in their own ways, in moderation. Quitting one for the other while ignoring the overlap is not going to fill a void for approval or validation if that is what my brain seeks (and if often does!). It will not save me in the same way the perfect morning routine will not save me. But both things may get me a lot of likes and comments, if you share about them a certain way. The fact that someone makes the choice to abandon one app and immediately runs here to post about it is not a coincidence.”

The optimized life won't save you.

I’ve been on Substack for nearly 5 months now, and like Olivia, I’ve experienced some highs and some lows. There have been some banner weeks with incredible growth. I’ve had some thoughtful conversations, and I’ve genuinely loved seeing this community flourish. I’ve also experienced some lulls. I’ve published essays that I thought would really resonate, only to see them — more or less — flop.

I know that it’s all part of the process. Writing is about rejection and failure. When you’re writing online, the experience is heightened. The algorithm can bestow wonderful gifts in your lap one week, and then take away all of the attention the next. This isn’t how I make a living, and yet, I still have fallen for the notion that my “value” can be dictated by how many likes and shares that my writing receives.

But wait, isn’t it ultimately? Isn’t the value of my brand quite literally determined by the likes and the shares?

Let me put it more simply: it’s a mindfuck.

So I got to thinking what does “going viral” or even simply getting likes on your posts really do to your internal systems? Is it sustainable?

Validate me!

I was slightly surprised that there isn’t a ton of research into our emotional and physical responses to online validation. There are some simple truths, however.

We are social creatures, and we seek approval from our tribe. With the advent of the Internet, our tribe has grown from 50-100 other community members to the World Wide Web (so billions of people). The stakes are higher. Not only because there’s more people to please, but because many want to make a real living on the internet.

So, not only are we looking for personal validation, but many of us are hoping to turn that validation into a career. I’m not just talking about influencers (although a staggering 57% of Gen Z want to be one). Countless small businesses grow their consumer base by having a strong online presence. There are millions of people who are yearning to “go viral” on the Internet.

But what exactly are we chasing (aside from the money)?

From Mashable:

“Likes and shares give us an emotional high, and at the root of the high is a feeling of social approval. When it arrives in droves, it's like a force multiplier for dopamine. "Going viral means validation, usually, and validation for who we are and what we do is a natural human need," Tracy says. "Because virality usually lasts for longer than the basic length of a normal 'like' experience on any given day, it’s sort of like a long party in your mind.

If we are intending to viral and don't, we feel let down. Aim that high enough times, and you're changing your brain no matter the outcome. Tracy compared influencers who experience virality often to an addict who has a high tolerance for a drug. And would-be influencers are chasing an unhealthy high too. "Wanting to go viral and getting let down often encourages a maladaptive relationship with social media," she says. "When we’re attempting to go viral, it’s usually because we’re motivated by the memory of our past validation.”

It’s an endless loop seeking this “high.” I can relate, and I’ve never even experienced anything close to “going viral.” My best performing Note received a little over 1K likes and earned me almost as many new subscribers. Nothing since has even hit a tenth of that. Despite my internal pep-talks, I’m still yearning for that same type of engagement again.

I’m human! Validate me!

Vox explains more about how this ties into our human nature:

“As a social species, we humans have a tendency to look to others for approval; a word of praise or a pat on the shoulder is a sign of acceptance or a job well done. This acknowledgment scratches one of the most universal, fundamental itches: the need for belonging. “We wouldn’t have survived as a species except for the fact we had tight bonds and lived in groups,” says Mark Leary, professor emeritus of psychology and neuroscience at Duke University. “We couldn’t have survived living by ourselves out of the woods somewhere.”

So while it’s understandable and expected to crave a bit of validation — it’s a sign you matter — that natural urge can warp into near-obsession, thanks, in part, to a culture that values validation as currency. When likes and follower counts offer a quantifiable measure of your worthiness, all of life’s milestones — good and bad — become bids for affirmation.

Once you learn positive reinforcement is just a post away, the more alluring the cycle becomes. But the good feelings are short-lived: You can get used to constant positive feedback, Park says. “It could be beneficial in the short term,” she says, “but I would argue that in the long term, it has costs in instability of self-esteem and preoccupation with the self to the detriment of relationships.” And thus the loop continues: The more you crave affirmation for your looks, your personality, your likability, the more you seek it out, the more you become the dog waiting for the treat. But if your self-esteem is reliant on whether you receive recognition, you risk becoming motivated only by self-serving goals — likes, comments, reposts.”

How is this sustainable?

You have to wonder how we handle the highs and lows of this kind of feedback loop on a long-term basis.

I’m largely off of social media, and I am genuinely happier for it. When I first started writing here on Substack, I could acknowledge that it was social media-adjacent. With the advent of Notes, it can now squarely be defined as social media. I was never a creator on a different platform, but I do find Substack is a healthier ecosystem as a whole. There’s a big emphasis on long-form writing, and, to a sometimes cheesy fault (sorry!), Notes is largely a positive place. It’s the antithesis of Reddit.

With all of that being said, it doesn’t take away the absolute mindfuck of writing on the Internet. There is still an algorithm. You still have to play the game, even if you don’t know the rules of the game.

And yet, the more we let strangers on the Internet dictate the value of our work, the further we get from creating authentic art and sharing unique perspectives. But what is the alternative? Is it possible to put your work on the Internet and ignore the response?

Or am I thinking about this all wrong? Is this very different than, say, sending a manuscript to publishers or a short-story to lit mags? Is it so unique from submitting your resume, from interviewing, from presenting to a room full of important people?

Maybe there will always be highs and lows when we are putting our work (and ourselves) into the world. Yes, the Internet can heighten the experience, but can it all come back to a simple perspective shift?

Just like you hope your manuscript will be read by the right publisher or your resume will be discovered by the right company, isn’t that all that matters here? If one person likes my writing, can’t that validation be enough?

Especially if that one person is me.

Now, tell that to my dopamine centers.