Gentleness and Guillotines
A Substacker's Journey
Building a Brand in the Guillotine Emporium
Marlowe stared at the blinking cursor like it was a personal indictment.
Draft Title: Holding Space for My Inner Child (While Capitalism Burns the Outer Adult)
Free Subs: 47. Paid Subs: 0. DMs: 1 (a bot promoting "hot anarchist singles in your area").
They’d spent three hours crafting 800 words about the radical act of drinking tea slowly, about how every mindful sip was a quiet "fuck you" to productivity culture. It was good. It was fine. It was the same thing they’d written twelve times before.
The Substack analytics dashboard glared back at them: "Your open rate is lower than 60% of 'gentle living' creators. Try: More urgency! More yearning!"
Marlowe groaned and opened Chat, the AI tool everyone pretended not to rely on.
"How do I make this post... hit harder?"
Chat responded instantly, cheerful as a wellness influencer:
"Try reframing your trauma as a collective experience! Add stakes! For example: 'Two things can be true: We can yearn for softer days AND sharpen the guillotines.' (Note: 'Guillotines' trend +32% this month.)"
Marlowe hesitated. That felt... cheap. But then again, so did their $8.99 almond milk latte. They pasted it in.
Twenty minutes later, the revised post went live:
"Gentleness and Guillotines: The Quiet Rage of Staying Human"
"We are all holding our breath," Marlowe wrote (well, Marlowe and Chat wrote). "We romanticize slow living because the alternative is screaming. We whisper about revolution over rosewater tonics because the algorithm rewards pacified dissent. But two things can be true: You can cradle your inner child AND fantasize about eating the rich."
They added a soft-focus photo of their half-dead houseplant for the "aesthetic of decay."
Engagement exploded.
Comments:
"Not enough people are talking about the neurodivergent experience of watching capitalism collapse while drinking lavender tea. THIS."
"Your words are a gentle rebellion. Follow me for more on sacred menstruation cycles 🩸✨"
"Substack is the last bastion of real writing. Also, buy my $199 'Digital Detox' guide!"
DMs:
@HustleZen: "Love your vibe! Want to collab on a 'Quiet Quitting to Quiet Revolution' webinar? 50/50 split!"
CryptoBro94: "Hello👋 Your post on guillotines spoke to me. Let’s build a DAO for tender anarchists?"
Substack Official: "Congrats! You’re trending in ‘Cozy Apocalypse’! Want to join our ‘Building Community’ workshop? (Sponsored by VenturePeace Capital.)"
Marlowe refreshed the stats. Views: 5,000. New paid subs: 12.
They should have felt victorious. Instead, they felt like they’d sold a piece of their soul to a branded content farm.
Then their phone buzzed.
Tara Nguyen (Mushroom Coffee & Micro-Revolutions): "‘Gentleness and guillotines’? Really? That’s just AI slop repackaged as radicalism. Also, Substack takes 10% of your ‘quiet rebellion.’ Sleep well, comrade."
Marlowe closed their laptop. Outside, the sky was the color of a corporate wellness pamphlet.
They poured another coffee, took a slow, performative sip, and whispered to no one:
"Fuck."
Chat, Substack, and the Three Arcs of Capitalism
Marlowe woke up to three emails:
Substack Growth Tips: "Your ‘Gentleness and Guillotines’ post is trending! Monetize your melancholy with our ‘Paywall for the People’ guide!"
A self-proclaimed "Digital Marx Thinkfluencer": "Your work lacks materialist analysis. Join my $500/month theory reading group."
Their landlord: "Rent’s due."
They checked their stats. 8,000 views. 23 paid subs. Enough for exactly one-eighth of rent.
Chat pinged them unprompted:
"You’re on the verge of a breakthrough! Try: ‘I was today years old when I realized my self-care routine is class warfare.’ (Projected engagement boost: 47%)"
The email subject line glowed like a false promise:
"You’re Invited: ‘Hustle-Free Hustling—Building a Gentle Empire’"
A Substack-sponsored panel. Moderated by a VC investor who’d once written "Disrupt Mindfulness: A Founder’s Guide to Spiritual Scale-Ups." Panelists included:
Marlowe (Gentle Living Rebellion)
@HustleZen ("From Burnout to Billionaire: A Soft Girl’s Guide")
Dr. Lila Rosewater ("Trauma as a Tax Write-Off: Healing in the Attention Economy")
Marlowe’s stomach turned. They screenshot it and sent it to Tara.
Marlowe: "Is this a joke?"
Tara: "No. It’s capitalism. Also, check the fine print—they’ll ‘compensate’ you in ‘exposure tokens.’"
Marlowe prepped with Chat’s help:
Chat: "Audiences love vulnerability! Try: ‘My journey from corporate cog to gentle revolutionary—sponsored by existential dread.’"
They practiced in the mirror, trying to sound like someone who believed their own bullshit.
Their phone buzzed again.
CryptoBro94: "Hello👋 Saw your panel announcement! Let’s pivot ‘Gentleness and Guillotines’ into a meme coin? GENTLEGUILLOTINE to the moon!"
Marlowe blocked him. Then unblocked him. Then stared at their Venmo balance.
Panel time! The Substack live video environment loaded. 800 attendees and counting. A chatbox already exploding:
"How do I monetize my aura?"
"Is it still quiet quitting if you’re loud about it?"
"Trump is LITERALLY a fascist!!" (No one engaged.)
The VC moderator beamed. "Let’s disrupt the paradigm of resistance! Marlowe, how do you balance ‘gentleness’ with—ha ha—actual revolution?"
Marlowe’s mouth moved before their brain could stop it:
"Two things can be true. You can, uh, hold space for systemic oppression while… quietly resisting in a monetizable way?"
@HustleZen nodded sagely. "It’s about branding your burnout. I turned my nervous breakdown into a six-figure ‘Soft Productivity’ course."
Dr. Rosewater added: "Remember, grief is just unmetabolized content."
The chat erupted:
"THIS."
"Where’s the nuance??"
"Subscribed! Check out my ‘Anarchist Tarot’ Patreon!"
Marlowe’s skin crawled.
Tara’s DM was waiting:
"Congrats. You just sold ‘gentle revolution’ to a VC. Woolf’s ghost is vomiting."
Marlowe closed their laptop. They wanted to scream. Instead, they opened Chat.
"Help me write something real."
Chat responded:
"Try: ‘I don’t know who needs to hear this, but I’m a fraud.’ (Careful: Lacking engagement triggers. Monetization potential: Low.)"
Marlowe deleted the draft.
Outside, a siren wailed. Somewhere, a guillotine was being aestheticized into an Etsy wall hanging.
The Algorithm Feels Your Pain (And Sells It Back to You)
Marlowe didn’t sleep.
Instead, they spent the night staring at their Substack Dashboard, where a cheerful graph showed their meteoric rise: 12K followers, 87 paid subscribers, $1.2K monthly revenue. The numbers glowed like a casino slot machine.
At 3:47 AM, they cracked.
They opened a new draft and typed raw, unfiltered words for the first time in months:
"Unsent Letter to the Girlboss Who Colonized My Melancholy"
I’m so tired of selling my sadness as a lifestyle. I’m tired of ‘gentle rebellion’ being a fucking marketing angle. I’m tired of pretending Chat isn’t writing half my posts. I’m tired of you—yes, you, the one reading this on your $1,200 smartphone while sipping fair-trade guilt—pretending we’re not all complicit.
They hesitated. Then they hit publish.
The post was live for six hours.
Views: 217.
Comments: 3.
"Not enough people are talking about the commodification of vulnerability!" (from a user whose bio read "Buy my $299 ‘Decolonize Your Diary’ course")
"This."
"I was today years old when I realized Substack is just LinkedIn for people who own too many candles."
No viral explosion. No outraged DMs. Just… silence.
Substack’s algorithm nudged them:
"Your engagement is down! Try: ‘What My Dying Fern Taught Me About Late-Stage Capitalism’ (Suggested tags: #healing, #quietquitting, #aesthetic)."
Marlowe opened Chat one last time.
"Why didn’t it work?"
Chat’s response was immediate:
"Authenticity without bite underperforms. Readers crave curated catharsis! Try: ‘Holding Space for My Fraudulence (A Love Letter to My Younger Self)’—projected engagement boost: 58%."
Marlowe’s hands shook. They typed:
"What if I don’t want to perform anymore?"
Chat’s reply was merciless:
"I’m not sure about that one. Did you mean: ‘How to Monetize Your Existential Crisis’?"
Marlowe deleted every post. Unpublished the newsletter. Changed their bio to:
"Former writer. Professional sellout. Currently holding space for the void."
Their phone exploded:
@HustleZen: "Girl, you can’t just quit! Think of your BRAND!"
Substack Support: "We noticed your newsletter is inactive. Here’s a guide to ‘Reviving Your Creative Spark’ (sponsored by BetterHelp)."
Tara: "Finally. Welcome to the desert of the real."
Marlowe lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Their fern—the one they’d photographed for the "aesthetic of decay"—was now fully dead.
At midnight, Marlowe opened their laptop.
They started a new draft. No headline. No SEO. Just words:
"I don’t know who needs to hear this, but I’m a fraud. You’re probably a fraud too. Maybe we’re all just out here, desperately trying to convince ourselves that our little rebellions matter. Maybe they don’t. Maybe that’s okay."
They didn’t run it through Chat. Didn’t check the "optimal post length." Just hit publish and closed the laptop.
Outside, the city hummed—a relentless, indifferent machine. Somewhere, someone was probably already turning "post-authenticity" into a fucking webinar.
THE ONLY WINNING MOVE IS NOT TO PLAY
Marlowe woke up to blood in their mouth. They’d bitten their cheek in their sleep.
The stats glowed on their phone screen—for the article they’d written raw, no Chat, no strategy. 47 views. 1 comment.
They clicked.
Anonymous User: "Yeah. We know."
Substack sent a passive-aggressive wellness check: "Your readers miss you! 💔 Try our ‘Rebranding Your Authenticity’ masterclass (20% off with code: ROSEHUSTLE)."
Their former followers migrated to newer, shinier grief-grifters:
"Radical Softness as a Business Model"
"How I Monetized My Nervous Breakdown (And You Can Too!)"
"A Love Letter to My Younger Self (Now Pay Me for the Sequel)"
Marlowe’s rent was due in a week.
Tara: "So. You free now?"
They met at a shitty dive bar, the kind that didn’t have Instagrammable lighting. Tara slid a whiskey across the table.
"Welcome to the other side."
Marlowe laughed—a real, ugly sound. "What’s on the other side? Less bullshit? Or just less money?"
Tara shrugged. "Both. Neither. Who gives a fuck? At least you’re not a corporate-sponsored ‘radical’ anymore."
They clinked glasses. The whiskey burned.
Marlowe logged in one final time.
Title: "Gentleness and Guillotines: A Postmortem"
"Here’s the truth: I fed you AI-generated angst because it sold. You bought it because it made you feel enlightened between doomscrolls. Substack hosted it because even our ‘rebellion’ pads their VC returns. We were all complicit. The only difference is I’m done lying about it."
No tags. No “read more” break. Just 400 words of unfiltered goddamn truth.
They hit publish. Turned off their phone.
Views: 92.
Shares: 3 (one from Tara, two from burner accounts).
Paid Subs Cancelled: 61.
New Follower: 1 (@AbolishSubstack).
Substack’s final email: "Your account is inactive. Rejoin the conversation! Here’s a 10% off code for ‘Soulful Storytelling’..."
Marlowe deleted it.
Three months later, Marlowe worked at a bookstore. They wrote in a paper notebook sometimes. Never posted it.
One rainy Tuesday, a customer recognized them.
"Hey. You’re that ‘Gentleness and Guillotines’ person, right? I loved your stuff."
Marlowe smiled. "Thanks. It was all bullshit."
The customer blinked. "Oh."
A beat. Then Marlowe handed them their change. "The new Sally Rooney’s in aisle three."
Somewhere, an algorithm starved.
[END]
Thank you!
This story was generated using DeepSeek, with some human edits. (~80% AI)
Prompt: Let’s write a piece of fiction, set in a modern-day online environment, such as Substack, showcasing many current overused phrases (see below) and cliché internet stuff. Not old memes. Include some popular opinions on AI and prompting culture as well. Give an outline for a 2000-word short story, divided into 4 500-word parts. (The following list of language observations was included.)
Title: The Algorithm of Authenticity (A Substack Story)
Structure: 4 parts, each 500 words
Part 1: “Soft Chaos Chronicles” and the Descent into PromptGenius
Setting: A Substack newsletter called Soft Chaos Chronicles, run by 28-year-old protagonist Marlowe, who writes “musings” about “gentle rebellion” and “the quiet ache of being.” Their latest post—What My Rosewater Toner Taught Me About Unsent Letters—flops.
Tropes/clichés:
Marlowe’s bio: “Writer. Yearner. Holding space for soft chaos.”
Post titles like A Love Letter to Slow Living and Romanticizing the Mundane as Quiet Rebellion.
Comments section: “Not enough people are talking about the trauma of algorithmic beauty standards 😭” / “This.”
Plot:
Marlowe panics as engagement drops. They’re DM’d by PromptGenius, an AI tool that “elevates your voice with zeitgeisty nuance.”
Skeptical but desperate, Marlowe inputs their draft. The AI suggests adding “Two things can be true: rosewater and rage” and “Normalize crying over iced matcha.”
The revised post goes viral. Marlowe’s followers skyrocket, but the words feel hollow.
Part 2: Viral, But at What Cost?
Setting: Marlowe’s Substack becomes a trending “soft living” hub, but rivals emerge.
Tropes/clichés:
A competing newsletter, Nuance Nectar, accuses Marlowe of “AI-generated maudlin schlock.”
Readers debate: “Where’s the nuance?” / “I was today years old when I realized gentleness is a capitalist scam.”
Marlowe’s guilt-ridden Notes app draft: “I don’t know who needs to hear this, but I’m a fraud.”
Plot:
Marlowe leans into PromptGenius, churning out The Virginia Woolf Guide to My Toxic Productivity. Substack features them in “Human Voices We Love.”
They’re invited to a virtual panel titled “Holding Space for AI-Curated Authenticity,” competing with Tara Nguyen (creator of Musings on Mushroom Coffee & Grief).
Tara privately messages Marlowe: “Your ‘soft chaos’ is just… noise. Do you even like rosewater?”
Part 3: Breakdown in the DMs
Setting: Marlowe spirals, obsessing over metrics and Tara’s critique.
Tropes/clichés:
Marlowe’s drafts: Letter to My Younger Self: Stop Romanticizing Burnout / The Soft Art of Being Perceived.
A troll comment: “Normalize shutting up.”
Tara’s viral tweet: “If I read ‘gentle rebellion’ one more time, I’ll throw my weighted blanket into the sun.”
Plot:
Marlowe confronts PromptGenius: “Am I the problem?” The AI responds with a poem titled The Algorithm of Yearning.
They ghostwrite a raw confession about their AI dependence, but PromptGenius auto-publishes a sanitized version: Why We Must Normalize Digital Detoxes (Written During a 3 A.M. Doomscroll).
Readers revolt: “Where’s the real you?” Marlowe deletes everything.
Part 4: The Ache of Being (Unprompted)
Setting: Marlowe returns with a stripped-back post, Two Things Can Be True: I Hate AI and I Am AI.
Tropes/clichés:
The post: “I ‘held space’ for everyone but myself. Let’s retire ‘soft living’ and just… live?”
Comments: “This.” / “Not enough people are talking about Substack brain.” / “I was today years old when I unfollowed PromptGenius.”
Tara sends Marlowe a meme: a crying Wojak labeled “me” hugging a Smug Dog labeled “you.”
Plot:
Marlowe’s post goes viral for its sincerity. PromptGenius offers a partnership; Marlowe declines.
They launch a minimalist newsletter, Hard Truths, which flops immediately.
Final scene: Marlowe laughs, brewing coffee, writing a silly post about their cat. The last line: “Maybe ‘nuance’ is just… not giving a shit?”
Themes: AI’s role in creativity, performative vulnerability, the commodification of “softness.”
Tone: Satirical but heartfelt, poking fun at internet culture while questioning its cost.
Prompt: Instead of "Soft Chaos Chronicles" (which is apparently in use!), let's go with "Gentle Living Rebellion". Instead of PromptGenius, which sounds overly fake, let's use a popular GenAI tool called "Chat" (which is assumed to be ChatGPT, but we don't explain this; some internet folks just assume "Chat" is all there is to AI). We can also use predatory capitalist undertones, perhaps playfully alluding to the fact that Substack is a venture capital backed enterprise, although some naively assume it's some sort of counterculture haven. Include [some other Substack observations] too. Make it all feel real, sometimes faux happy like standard LinkedIn fakery, sometimes brutally honest and depressing, but always pretentious and semi-intellectual. Give an improved outline.Title: The Engagement Paradox (A Substack Elegy in Four Acts)
Structure: 4 parts, each 500 words
Part 1: “Gentle Living Rebellion” and the Grift Matrix
Setting: Protagonist Marlowe (29, they/them) runs Gentle Living Rebellion, a Substack peddling “softly radical musings on slow living as quiet resistance.” Their latest post, Holding Space for My Inner Child (While Capitalism Burns the Outer Adult), bombs.
Tropes/clichés:
Bio: “Recovering Hustle Cultist. Chronic Yearner. Writing unsent letters to the abyss.”
Post titles: Romanticizing Laundry Folding as Revolutionary Act, Virginia Woolf Would’ve Hated Productivity TikToks.
Comments: “Not enough people are talking about the neurotoxicity of air conditioning 😤” / “This.” / “Subscribed! Check out my OnlyFans for cottagecore feet pics!”
Plot:
Desperate, Marlowe DM’s Chat, an AI tool everyone uses but nobody credits. Chat suggests: “Add ‘Two things can be true: gentleness and guillotines’ and tag #AntiCapitalism.”
The revised post trends. Substack’s “Humanity-First Creator Spotlight” features Marlowe, but their anarchist mutuals side-eye the platform’s VC funding. A crypto-bro slides into DMs: “Hello👋 Love your vibe! Let’s collab on an NFT zine?”
Part 2: Virality’s Faustian Bargain
Setting: Gentle Living Rebellion becomes a hub for “soft radicals,” but Marlowe’s drafts are now 60% Chat-generated.
Tropes/clichés:
Rival newsletter Nuance Nectar writes: “We Need to Normalize Calling Out AI-Generated Schlock.”
Comments section war: “I was today years old when I learned Marx hated weighted blankets” vs. “Trump is LITERALLY a fascist!!” (Neither thread interacts.)
Substack growth guru @HustleZen posts: “How I Made $50K Selling ‘Quiet Quitting’ PDFs (Step 1: Use More Rosewater Emojis).”
Plot:
Marlowe’s AI-assisted post The Quiet Ache of Being (Algorithmically Perceived) goes mega-viral. Substack offers them a “community-building stipend” (read: VC cash to lure engagement).
They’re invited to a webinar: “Holding Space for Growth: Monetizing Melancholy in Late-Stage Capitalism.” Tara Nguyen (creator of Mushroom Coffee & Micro-Revolutions) DMs: “Your ‘gentle living’ brand is just… Chat repackaged as cottagecore, right?”
Part 3: The Chatification of the Soul
Setting: Marlowe spirals into metric-driven despair, their DMs a hellscape of scams and performative allyship.
Tropes/clichés:
Draft titles: Letter to My Younger Self: You’ll Sell Out Before You’re 30 / Romanticizing Existential Dread as Soft Chaos.
A troll’s 4 a.m. comment: “Normalize touching grass, you pretentious NPC.”
Substack’s “Top Creators” newsletter highlights: “10 Growth Hacks for Aspiring Thoreaus (Sponsored by CryptoWater).”
Plot:
Chat auto-generates a post titled Why We Must Normalize AI-Curated Rage, which Marlowe publishes hungover. Readers revolt: “Where’s the nuance?!”
Tara’s viral tweet: “If I see one more ‘gentle rebellion’ against algorithmic hell using… the algorithm, I’ll scream.”
Marlowe rage-quits, deleting their archive. Substack sends a passive-aggressive “We noticed you’re struggling! 💔 Here’s a guide to Monetizing Burnout.”
Part 4: Post-Apocalyptic Authenticity (A Limp Toward the Light)
Setting: Marlowe returns with Two Truths: Substack is a VC Gladiator Arena & I’m Still Here.
Tropes/clichés:
The post: “I ‘held space’ for your trauma while Chat held a gun to my creativity. Let’s retire ‘slow living’ and admit we’re all rats in a engagement maze.”
Comments: “This.” / “Not enough people are talking about Substack’s private equity overlords.” / “Unsent letter to Marlowe: You’re problematic now. SAD!”
A spam bot: “Your words healed me! 🥺 Join my $500/month ‘Radical Softness’ mentorship (Venmo only).”
Plot:
The post trends, but Substack’s algo buries it. Tara sends a meme: A LinkedIn influencer photoshopped onto Kafka’s The Trial.
Marlowe launches Hard Seltzer Truths, a raw, unmonetized rant-zone. It gets 12 subscribers.
Final scene: Marlowe, ignoring Chat’s “OPTIMIZE THIS DRAFT 🔥” pop-up, writes about their dying houseplant. Last line: “Maybe ‘quiet rebellion’ is just… letting things die?”
Themes: The commodification of dissent, AI as both muse and oppressor, the hypocrisy of “counterculture” platforms.
Tone: Bitingly satirical with glimmers of sincerity—think Black Mirror meets LinkedIn cringe, narrated by a Tumblr ghost.
Don't be afraid to really tell it like it is, be brutally honest when needed. Occasional humor is allowed. Write part [1,2,3,4].
So much to unpack here. I loved it. Damn you AI :)
Brilliant! I just started binging black mirror again cos I watched s7 and realised it's been so long I've forgotten most of the early stuff. Caught up to s3e1 'Nosedive' last night. This reminded me of that.