April 2, 2025
Is long-form writing for thought leadership dead? For years, I tried to make my voice fit inside a square. I posted on Instagram, Threads, Facebook, and LinkedIn—platforms that reward brevity, performance, and virality. I learned the hooks. I studied the best times to post. I tried to shrink my thoughts into a carousel, a Reel, a sentence that might stop someone mid-scroll.
But no matter how hard I tried, it never really fit.
Because I’m a long-form human in a short-form world.
I don’t write to win algorithms. I write to process. I write to think out loud. And if I’m lucky, I write to help a few others find clarity in the noise.
So when Substack notified me that my newsletter had landed in the Top 100, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: like I was building something that fit who I am. Spoiler alert: as I write this, I notice I’ve already fallen off that pedestal—but that’s not really the point.
We’ve been conditioned to think that shorter is always better. That if you can’t say it in a few words, it’s not worth saying. But I’ve found the opposite to be true. What we’re missing in today’s digital chaos isn’t volume—it’s context.
I’m not sure I would have come to that realization on my own. But Substack proved it to me: people still crave nuance. They crave space to explore ideas. They crave writing that doesn’t rush them to the next dopamine hit.
There are still humans out there who want to talk it out. Who want to read something real. Who want to wrestle with the mess.
The short-form era didn’t fail. It had its moment. It helped us connect. But it also hit its point of diminishing return. Now we’re drowning in curated content and clever punchlines, and most of us can’t remember what we saw 20 minutes ago.
What I needed wasn’t just a new platform. It was a platform that gave me permission, not to mention a tangible metric—to go long, to get honest, to write my way through what I didn’t fully understand yet. That’s what long-form writing for thought leadership gives us: space to make sense of complexity.
And that’s something few other writing platforms like Medium or Revue have offered in quite the same way.
I didn’t start writing online to build a brand. I started because I didn’t know what else to do with what I was carrying. And over time, writing became a kind of flashlight. It helped me name what felt chaotic. It helped me understand my own beliefs—not just by stating them, but by wrestling with them.
And maybe more importantly, it helped other people feel less alone in theirs.
I hope this space continues to make that case—that we don’t need to water things down or write in a way that pleases everyone. We just need to write in a way that invites people in.
That doesn’t mean I’ll play it safe. I’m not interested in writing neutral content. The moment we’re in calls for clarity, not confusion. There’s a way to speak clearly—even controversially—and still be heard. Some people will find solace in my words. Others will be challenged.
But if I’ve done my job, neither group will feel the need to dismiss me outright. That’s the bar I want to hold myself to.
Long-form writing for thought leadership isn’t about sounding smart. It’s about being useful—especially in a time when truth and nuance feel increasingly rare.
Great leadership isn’t about mass approval. It’s about clarity. The same goes for communication. Whether you’re speaking to your team, your audience, or your community—people don’t need you to be neutral. They need you to be clear.
We don’t build trust by being vague. We build trust by telling the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.
The world doesn’t need more polished thought leaders. It needs more leaders who are willing to say something real—and stand by it. Long-form writing for thought leadership offers that space. And right now, space is what many of us are missing.
If you’re leading in today’s world and wondering why your message isn’t landing, ask yourself: are you trying to be liked? Or are you trying to be clear?
If you’ve ever felt like your voice didn’t fit the platforms you were told to use—same.
Pardon the plug, but that’s why I built Hiddn: to help people find a leadership voice that actually matches who they are, not who the algorithm expects them to be.
Another plug: If you’re a long-form human in a short-form world, we see you. We coach people like you. Let’s work together to make long-form writing for thought leadership work for you and those you lead.
Last plug, promise: Writing, like leadership, is about the long game. If anything in this post resonated, reach out. Or just subscribe and keep reading. Because clarity? It’s contagious.
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