Medium Where?
One strike, you’re out!
I don’t even know what I did wrong. And they won’t answer my messages. I know a lot of you have experienced the same thing: One day you wake up, and your ability to earn money on Medium has been revoked. No warning. no reason given. First offense, and you’re toast.
It wasn’t much money, more the principle. But it was a nice little incentive to give me a glimmer of hope. Now I feel like the wind has been knocked out of my sails, and I feel kinda stupid writing for Medium. I can’t even connect my Stripe account due to an error, and they won’t even tell me what that’s about. Meanwhile I see stories that look like a 5-year-old wrote it:
“This is a ƨtorey about my ɔat. He is soft. Yeƨtarday he got runned ovar. I was ƨad…” Wait, that was my story….
So I don’t want to just disappear from here. But I’ve never gotten one word from the support staff, so I feel like chopped liver, or some other innard… giblets or something. It feels very unfriendly. Maybe they’re right, I should just go back to my old job as a doormat… It was an entry-level position…
People are saying things like Medium is over, it’s failing, and everybody’s leaving… Hey, wait you guys! Where ya going? can I come too?
But mostly I just wanna know what I did wrong. Getting no response feels like I murdered the algorithm, and one day, there’ll be a knock on the door:
Medium Police! We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!
There he is! HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK! Cuff him, O’Malley.
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Wait, what did I do?
Oh, you know exactly what you did! Don’t try to act all innocent! You’re going away for a long time, pal. That’ll teach you to not bear your soul completely! You didn’t dig deep enough! You didn’t bleed!
And you didn’t reveal all your deepest darkest secrets to every single person on this site! Fiction indeed! It’s called lying!
But, I,
That’s what they all say, “but I, but I,” it’s always about you! Did you hear that, O’Malley? He’s trying to use the old “but I” excuse! Don’t you ever think about anyone else?! Did you even know it’s my birthday?!
You have the right to remain silent, anything you write can and will be used to line a bird cage…
The prisoner shall approach the bench!
Judge, I’d like to present Exhibit A.
Gimme that, what is this crap?… The Fulcrum by Ray Cabarga?… What are you, some kind of subversive? You call this fleshing out the characters? I don’t empathize with this protagonist!
Spelling, grammar, and punctuation: Ten years in solitary! Weak plot development: twenty more! Your kind DISGUST ME!
Your honor, may I suggest tacking on another 300 years for making this story go on way too long?
But seriously, any help or advice would be appreciated. Thanks for reading.
