(2023-01-31) Matuschak Three Years Of Crowdfunded Research

Andy Matuschak: Three years of crowdfunded research. 2022 was my third year as a crowdfunded independent researcher. My primary income is, and has been, a membership program. Most researchers answer to a few grantmaking committees; I answer to hundreds of internet strangers.

the program has grown into something much more central and vivid in my creative life. Now it’s a compelling rhythm, a context that scaffolds and energizes my work.

High-context listeners

Research often has a slow tempo; projects can span years. My membership program has created a faster loop inside the slower one, a space eager to observe the work as it unfolds. I’m mostly working on one enormous project, yet membership creates a context in which I can usefully publish quite regularly

I worried that writing for patrons would feel like making dutiful “reports”. In 2020, it did feel that way. But that was my fault. My emotional stance changed as I had more conversations with members and began to understand their mindsets. They aren’t program officers, looking for evidence of a productive grantee. Most are curious creatives, looking for an intimate view of an unusual life, a challenging creative process.

what do I get out of this? The way I escaped the essay-as-duty frame is by recognizing: here’s a context which pushes me to think carefully about some aspect of my work. Here’s a context which delivers a meaningful hit of creative gratification—reliably, right now—while my long research project rolls unpredictably onward. With that frame, essays for members become a creative “move” in my toolbox.

Write more, and you’ll think better! That’s true, but what makes the membership program different for me is that I’m writing for extremely high-context listeners. (Working In Public)

That strong signal of interest also makes it easier for me to write honestly. Most papers and public writing about inventions (understandably) contain a substantial dose of marketing

I want to focus my “intermediate” writing on what’s not working, tantalizing details I don’t yet understand. And, for a high-interest, high-context audience, I feel safe doing just that.

Here’s the bittersweet part. These regular high-context listeners are precious because they simulate some of what I’d have in a good university department, with a good lunch table and a good seminar series.

Another surprising way that my membership program simulates being at a university: I get the chance to help others grow.

warning for others considering crowdfunding: I wouldn’t recommend Patreon to new creators. Patreon locks you into their platform; there’s no way to migrate without requiring every member to re-enter their payment details. If I were starting now, I’d use Ghost or Memberful instead. Both allow payment migration to other platforms. I’d migrate if I could—Patreon’s presentation of my work is embarrassingly clunky, and I can’t change it. I’ll migrate at some point, but it’ll be a huge hassle, and I’m putting it off.

in the previous section, I discussed the regular essays I write for patrons. But unlike the author of a subscription newsletter: I’m not trying to be a “content creator.” Access to those essays is not what I’m selling—or at least not what I intend to sell. I’m a researcher, trying to invent tools to give us new cognitive and creative powers

My pitch to members is less transactional. It’s more like patronage in a historical sense. My work is a public service, and my primary outputs are available for free.

One benefit of running a niche membership program is that I’ve gathered together a bunch of people with overlapping niche interests. My sense is that it’d make sense to help these people connect. I held about two dozen events for members this year, across a variety of formats. My motivation here has been partly selfish: maybe I can help grow the “scene” around my research, foster some future peers or collaborators?

Unfortunately, even in Gather, the all-important “hallway track” at these online conferences is much diminished. And since I was trying to help members connect, that’s a major problem. The COVID bloom of new remote social tools doesn’t seem to have solved it.

There’s one obvious related approach here I haven’t tried: creating an ongoing realtime discussion forum community, through tools like Discord, Zulip, or Discourse. I’ve joined lots of online communities on platforms like those, and they’ve never worked for me.

The good news is that I’m able to pay my bills. Really—strangers on the internet are able to pay my bills. (I’ll pause for a moment to say: this is unbelievable.) The bad news is that the program’s growth has roughly plateaued.

My income sits somewhere between that of a grad student and a junior faculty member. This is… okay, though obviously not ideal.