Exclusive Content !!! Extra, Extra Read All About It !!!
Or Maybe Not If You Don't Subscribe To Me
Introduction
I have been fairly scathing about Vocal's implementation of Exclusive Content and you can check it out here. Many creators disagree with me and many agree with my concerns.
The music is "Extra, Extra" by The Who from Tommy
These are my thoughts on it
A Good Idea Badly Implemented
Today I saw my first "Exclusive" piece sail by on my subscription feed and thought if I had not subscribed to this person then I would not have seen that in "Latest Stories", it would have been invisible to me. So Exclusive content reduces your visibility on Vocal.
I get a lot of new subscribers because my work is visible to all Vocal users.
The concept of a paid subscription is fine and I know it works from many friends on Patreon, Substack and Only Fans and they often ask my advice about content, which I am happy to give.
The problem is that Vocal Creators are writers rather than readers, although you have to read to be able to write so are unlikely to reduce their earnings by supporting another creator. I won't and I would not expect anyone to subscribe to me.
However, I do tip creators and I get tips from others because they have enjoyed my work.
When you start to produce exclusive content, you have to commit to delivering high-quality content for your subscribers who are expecting you to deliver.
Many famous authors employ this model and I believe Amazon have a serial model that my Vocal Sister Melissa Ingoldsby uses.
So contact her if you would like to know more about that direction.
While Vocal's exclusive content is not for me anyone who goes for it is going to have to tempt subscribers and there is a potential other problem.
If payment is via Stripe then do your subscribers have to be Vocal+ members? I just checked and they have to be a paid subscriber, so that is another major limitation.
I have analogised this to trying to put a Formula 1 Racetrack in a football stadium. They just don't go together at all.
Conclusion
I don't know if Vocal consulted any creators about this (after all they pay for the platform) but we have it now and will see how it fairs. One positive is that they have corrected the comment count at the bottom of the page, but still refuse to give us a read count on a story page.
As I say Vocal is the best writing platform, but it does have faults and I would love to see some attention paid to these.
Good Luck to anyone who starts releasing "Exclusive Content" and builds a paid subscriber one paid subscriber giving you $5 a month is more than a month's read income for many Vocal Creators.
Thank you so much for reading and your 0.6c is fine for me.
About the Creator
Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred
A Weaver of Tales and Poetry
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More stories from Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred and writers in Writers and other communities.
Your Vocal Comments
Introduction I think that Vocal comments are a great addition to the Vocal model. This previous piece captures some of my thoughts on them if you want to check it out. It is a bit tongue-in-cheek but does contain some serious points.
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred about a year ago in Writers
Published in Portrait of New England
My quest to find many publications with prestige to submit to has worked out even better than I thought. I was searching for more publications with more prestige in order to bolster my resume. I truly thought I'd try this for a year and not get published anywhere... maybe if I was lucky... in one of them. And I was OK with that... I was just going to try again the following year, and the year after that, and so on.
By Stephen Kramer Avitabile29 days ago in Writers
Silent Struggle
No one noticed the moment his life began to feel heavy. There was no single disaster, no dramatic fall. Everything happened slowly—quietly—like dust settling on furniture no one cared to clean. From the outside, his life looked normal. He woke up, went to work, smiled when needed, and returned home exhausted. But inside, a silent struggle was growing every single day. His name was Hamza. Hamza used to believe effort was always rewarded. As a child, he was told that if you worked hard, life would eventually open its doors for you. For a long time, he held onto that belief. He studied late into the night, sacrificed weekends, and stayed disciplined when others took shortcuts. But as years passed, reality felt cruelly different. People with less effort moved ahead. Opportunities passed him by. Promises turned into excuses. At work, Hamza was dependable—but invisible. When projects succeeded, others were praised. When mistakes happened, eyes quietly turned toward him. He never complained. He didn’t want to be seen as weak or ungrateful. Instead, he stayed silent. That silence slowly became his habit. At home, expectations followed him like a shadow. Everyone assumed he was “doing fine” because he never spoke about his struggles. Friends stopped asking how he was. Conversations became shallow. No one knew how many nights he lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if something was wrong with him. The hardest part wasn’t failure. It was feeling unseen. One night, after another exhausting day, Hamza sat alone in his room. The city outside was loud, full of people chasing dreams, celebrating small wins, living loudly. Inside his room, everything felt still. He picked up his phone and scrolled through social media. Success stories. Smiling faces. Motivational quotes. Each post felt like a reminder of how far behind he was. His chest tightened. A thought crept into his mind—soft, dangerous, and persistent. “Maybe I’m not meant for more.” That thought scared him. Not because it hurt—but because it felt believable. For the first time, Hamza considered giving up. Not dramatically. Not by quitting everything. Just… stopping the effort. Doing the bare minimum. Accepting an ordinary life without expectations. No one would notice anyway. But something held him back. It wasn’t hope. It wasn’t motivation. It was stubbornness. A quiet refusal to completely let go. The next morning, nothing changed externally. The same routine. The same people. The same silence. But inside Hamza made a small decision: “I’ll keep going—even if nothing changes.” He stopped waiting for encouragement. He stopped seeking validation. He focused only on improving himself, one small step at a time. He learned after work when others relaxed. He practiced skills no one asked him to learn. He failed quietly and corrected himself without announcing it. Some days, he felt strong. Most days, he felt tired. But he showed up anyway. Weeks turned into months. There were still no rewards. No applause. No sudden success. But something subtle was happening—something Hamza didn’t notice at first. He was becoming resilient. Things that once broke his confidence no longer shook him as much. Rejection still hurt, but it didn’t stop him. Criticism no longer crushed him; it taught him. Silence, once painful, became his training ground. One evening, a major issue arose at his workplace. A complicated problem that others avoided because failure would be visible. Managers were tense. Deadlines were tight. Blame was already being prepared. Hamza didn’t speak up immediately. He simply started working. He stayed late. He researched. He tested ideas. He made mistakes and fixed them. There were moments he doubted himself. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not good enough for this.” But he answered back with action. Days later, the problem was solved—not perfectly, but effectively. This time, people noticed. Not with applause. Not with excitement. But with curiosity. “Who handled this?” “When did he learn that?” “Why didn’t we see this before?” Hamza didn’t feel proud in the way he expected. Instead, he felt calm. Grounded. Secure in a way that didn’t depend on others. When his manager finally called him in and acknowledged his work, Hamza thanked him politely. But inside, he knew the truth: This moment wasn’t built overnight. It was built during silent nights. Unseen effort. Unrecognized discipline. Life hadn’t ignored him. Life had been watching. Testing whether he would keep going without praise. Years later, Hamza looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who believed silence meant failure. He wished he could tell him one thing: “Your struggle wasn’t wasted. It was shaping you.” Not everyone’s journey is loud. Not every victory is celebrated. Some people are built quietly—strong enough to stand when others fall. If you are struggling silently today, know this: You are not behind. You are not invisible. You are not weak. You are being prepared. And one day, without warning, life will notice. Final Line (Powerful Ending): The strongest people are often the ones no one sees fighting—but they keep going anyway.
By Inayat khan4 days ago in Writers
Comments (6)
Wait, so someone is already paying Vocal a subscription, and Vocal think those people will also pay individual creators for content? That seems... unrealistic.
Oh wow, you've already seen an Excluded Story? I've not come across it yet. I have turned off the ability for people to have a paid subscription to me. I did it in the settings
Agreed - for the most part. Well done with the article.
We'll see how it goes. Nice piece. :)
By the way. I remember Tommy my brother has this album many years ago and it is a good one.
Good work. I am doing fine here on Vocal.com just a free account. To be honest I started reading and commenting on other communities and learning a lot and have earned extra.