“Why would a website not want to be found via search engines?”

Last week, Mailchimp told me that two new people had subscribed to my newsletter.  I was overjoyed… until I saw the email addresses.  Both of them were utter gibberish, and both were sent from a domain that looked decidedly dodgy.

I looked up that domain.  When I saw that it was most likely a scam, I immediately removed the two suspicious subscribers from my list.  Then I stayed on the scam-detector site and looked a few more domains up for fun, including my own.

Thankfully, my website has a high trust score and is not likely to be a scam (thanks!).  However, I also learned some surprising things about it.  One: I’m hiding my identity (honestly, have you seen my home page?  My identity couldn’t be clearer if I’d posted a copy of my birth certificate with a recent utility bill and a bloodied set of fingerprints).  Two: my site’s apparent lack of search engine optimisation means I may not “want to be found by police authorities or brand protection agencies.”

Those, it seems, are the ONLY reasons why a website wouldn’t want to “be found via search engines”.

But are they really?  I don’t think so.

I haven’t got a website just because I want to be “found” by strangers on search engines (though if that’s why you’re here, welcome!).  I’ve got a website to explain what I do to anyone who might be interested – friend, foe, or potential client who likes the sound of it – and to help me empty my brain of random thoughts.  That’s about it.

I don’t need millions, thousands, or even hundreds of people to “find” me online.  That comes with pressure I don’t want or need.  It’s the exact same reason why I’ve been procrastinating over starting a new, potentially paid, Substack newsletter.

I’ve found that I naturally shy away from anything that might make me too read.

I’m not saying I don’t want to be read.  I do.  I just think the more I’m read, the more I might be tempted to stray away from writing what and how I want.  In other words, writing is a precious personal lifeline, and I don’t want to lose it.

The Substack newsletter I’m thinking of starting is along those lines.  I originally wanted it to be a continuation and improvement of my old Medium publication, Everyday Childfree.

“A woman without a mother has the kind of freedom other women can only dream of.” (Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible)

As I let the idea simmer, I realised that newsletter could incorporate other unusual things about my life.  Such as: I have no mother, I don’t drive, I’m an HSP, I’m a vegan, I’m currently undergoing a strange midlife transformation, and I chose to ditch a well-paid, stable corporate career to write for a living.  Those are all somethings.  Other people experience them as well.  They might benefit from being written about clearly, candidly, and more often.

Yet while I’d be writing that newsletter to help its readers feel seen and understood, I’d really be writing it for myself.

There’s just something about seeing your thoughts and feelings on a page that makes them easier to think, feel, and deal with.  Charging other people for that personal privilege feels weird and a little bit wrong, which is partly why I’m struggling with the Substack idea (the other part is that I don’t particularly like Substack.  It’s a tad too braggy and social-media-y for me).

I don’t want the pressure of being read too much, and I don’t want the pressure of too many people finding me on their search engines.  Whoever ends up reading or finding me, all I really want to do is keep on writing.

(I also don’t want to be found by police authorities or brand protection agencies, but who does?).