Your Paywall Doesn't Need a Disclaimer

Stop Optimizing for People Who'll Never Buy

This week, fresh off the irritation of observing a massive readers group give a full-throated endorsement of book piracy, I saw a Twitter user express outrage at people who posted paywalled articles without a disclaimer. She found the lack of disclaimer so enraging that she would block anyone who failed to warn people of the presence of a paywall.

I thought that was an oddly aggressive take, though made in good faith. We have mutuals in common, so I responded with what I thought was a measured take: paywalled articles are only problematic when used as “proof” for controversial claims in tweets. Otherwise, writers charging for their work is perfectly reasonable. Writing is a job requiring skill, time, and effort. If readers find value in it, asking for money isn’t wrong.

The response was swift and vitriolic.

How dare I not understand what “disclaimer” means? Didn’t I know I was wasting people’s precious time by making them click a link only to discover—horror of horrors—that the content cost money?

The exchange crystallized something I’ve been thinking about for years: independent creators are optimizing for the biggest audience possible… but more often than not, that’s the wrong audience.

The Entitlement Economy

There’s a particular species of online commenter who believes all content should be free and that charging for writing is a hostile act requiring advance warning—as if we’re out here posting undraped testicles or something.

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The commenters who agreed with Alex mentioned on multiple occasions that a disclaimerless paywall was “rude” and “wasting their time.”

Clicking a link and discovering it costs money takes approximately three seconds. Closing the tab takes another half-second. So are they really mad about the time? Or are they mad the author had the nerve to ask for payment after spending days (or months for investigative works) creating the article?

When Alex’s commenters piled on, the answer became abundantly clear.

Many were simply obnoxious (responding with all caps BWAHAHA and the like). Some, like Alex, insisted that I didn’t know what a disclaimer was or that I was wrong about a block being a bad thing. Annoying to be sure.

But there was an underlying sneering at writers as a whole that really got my goat. Even from other other writers.

Rusty is a follower of mine and, as you can see, a writer who has found success. But this comment was startling to me.

Writers are whores? I beg your finest pardon.

A lot of the cartoon characters later responded with praise and suggested that, unlike me, Rusty “gets it.”

But to me, this reads as defensive. Even shameful.

“It’s not me! I don’t WANT to charge money! I understand my work has no real value. It’s just those mean platforms that MAKE me! I’m a victim of late-stage capitalism!”

This is my take on it, of course. You can see he didn’t actually say this. But How can I come away with the impression that he is proud of what he does? That he finds value in it? And if he doesn’t, how can his readers?

And more pressing for writers, is this the attitude you want to cultivate surrounding your work? Is this the type of reader you want to attract?

Finding the Right Audience (and repelling the wrong one)

Contrary to what Alex says, I do know what a disclaimer is. And so does she.

When someone demands a “disclaimer” before a paid article link, what they’re really demanding is that you apologize for charging for your work. They want you to signal that you know asking for payment is vaguely shameful, something readers need to be warned about in advance so they can avoid your mercenary contamination of their free content feed.

And threatening to block someone because they failed to sufficiently warn you of their shameful need to be paid for their work is meant to be a punishment.

You aren’t fooling anyone, girl.

This inference on my part was confirmed when our friend Alex, you guessed it, blocked me. After bizarrely accusing me of being AI and asking for a recipe for brownies. Hon, I am the worst person to ask for cooking tips of any kind.

Cartoons Hate Her (@cartoonshateher) has had to make several posts on Twitter and on Substack defending the fact that most of her articles are paywalled. Why several? Because people keep bitching about them, as if she is somehow obligated to stop earning money.

I like CHH. I follow her here on Substack. I think her work is valuable and have no problem with the fact that MOST of her articles are paywalled. They’re research-heavy, well-sourced, and interesting. That being said, I’m not a paid subscriber because that isn’t the content I personally want to pay for. But I’m not angry that CHH paywalls her stuff. Nor am I mad she has so many paid subs. She deserves them.

And the people who begrudge her any of that are not her audience. They certainly aren’t mine. Or yours, for that matter.

What independent creators need to understand is that these people will never pay you. Not for this article, not for the next one, not for anything. You could write the most valuable, entertaining, or insightful piece of your career, and they would still balk at a $5 price tag.

So why are you courting them?

Do Many Free Followers EVER Trump Few Paid Ones?

Sometimes, yes. There are some business models where having those big follower counts and engagement metrics matter, even if none of them pays you a dime. Landing sponsorship deals, securing press credentials at conventions, attracting literary agents who use follower counts as gatekeepers, or booking speaking engagements where organizers want “influencers.”

These are real considerations. If your strategy involves any of these paths, you need to factor in audience size, and may want to tweak your funnel so 90% of your content is free.

But notice something: even these volume-dependent opportunities ultimately lead back to monetization. The sponsor wants your audience because they’re trying to sell products. The agent wants your platform because it signals you can sell books. The convention wants your attendance because it drives ticket sales.

For most independent creators, especially writers, the math is simpler and more favorable than the “grow your audience at all costs” crowd wants to admit.

Five hundred people paying $10/month generates $60,000 per year. A thousand people at the same rate generates $120,000. These are sustainable, middle-class incomes built on a relatively small base of true fans.

Compare that to what you’d need to earn the same amount through advertising or sponsorships with a free content model. You’d need hundreds of thousands of engaged followers to approach similar revenue—and you’d be constantly chasing algorithm changes, platform drama, and the whims of advertisers who can pull out at any moment.

Rather than focus on building the biggest audience possible, it’s a lot easier and less stressful for indies to build the right audience—readers who understand that “I value your work” means “I will pay for your work.”

So how do you do this?

It’s All About the Funnel, Baby

I’m not arguing against ever publishing free content. You probably noticed that I do. Almost all of my articles are free for a month after they go live. This is because I don’t have the kind of massive platform where people can feel good about dropping money on me based on my name alone. They need to see if I’m worth it.

That’s probably true of your readers too. Free articles, blog posts, and social media commentary serve the vital function of letting potential readers sample your work, building your reputation in your niche, and creating opportunities for people to discover you. Free content gives you a platform to explore ideas without the pressure of paid publication.

That’s the beginning of the funnel: Your free followers. Some of them will make a small purchase from you. Maybe a 99 cent novella, maybe they contribute to a crowd fund effort. That’s the middle of the funnel. From that group, maybe some of them decide you’re worth an annual subscription. Or they buy a box set of your novels. Whatever your desired purchase endpoint is, they’re there for you. You’ve won them over. That’s the end of the funnel, the narrowest part.

That’s how it’s supposed to be. More at the top of the funnel, fewer at the bottom. That’s why it’s a funnel and not a barrel.

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The Path Forward

If you’re an independent creator—a writer, in particular—trying to build a sustainable career outside traditional publishing, please hear me when I say your work has value and it is okay to charge for it.

Some people will recognize that value and pay for it. Others won’t. The ones who won’t fall into two categories: those who genuinely can’t afford it (understandable, we’ve all been there) and those who simply don’t want to pay for writing regardless of quality or value (the complainers).

The first group might become paying customers later when their circumstances change. The second group never will.

Stop optimizing for the second group. Stop worrying about their 3.5 seconds of “wasted time.” Stop adding disclaimers that frame your compensation as something requiring warning labels.

Focus instead on cultivating an audience that understands what you understand: that writing is skilled labor, that quality content requires significant time and effort to produce, and that people who create value deserve to be compensated for it.

Let the freeloaders block you. It’s the very definition of addition through subtraction.