Is Social Media Just a Dystopian QVC? (Because It Sure Feels Like It.)

I can't sell my soul, not yet, at least.

Lately, every time I open social media, it feels like a dystopian QVC channel.
A conveyor belt of strangers staring straight into my soul to tell me about the thing I absolutely must buy: a hair straightener, a magnesium gummy, an eye cream, a Korean pore vacuum that literally shows you what was inside their face.

I never asked to know that.

And the wildest part?
None of it feels human. Not even close.

If this is “creator culture,” no wonder AI influencers are taking over. The people selling to me barely resemble people anymore. Everyone looks poreless, ageless, and mildly amphibian—floating in their bathroom light like digital ghosts.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth:
I get why they do it.
It works.
It makes money.

I’m a writer, a single mom, a person who loves art and also has rent due. Believe me, the temptation to hop on TikTok and start reviewing books is real. The algorithm loves books right now. I could be that girl. A stylish black turtleneck, a stack of novels, a soft filter…

But every time I open the app, I get hit with a foot pic, ten skincare routines, and another woman whose face looks like a newborn because she’s using the fetal filter. And I’m supposed to trust her about retinol?

There’s a voice deep in my soul that keeps whispering:

Turn. Off. The. Phone.

Write instead.
Connect instead.
Talk to people who aren’t selling something.
Commune with art.
Make work that won’t expire in three hours.

Power to the folks who can create online and stay authentic.
But shame on the industry that trains people to contort themselves into soft-filtered mannequins for brand money that will never, ever feel good.

Now → Next → How (the Substack “story engine”)

Now: I’m noticing the slow creep of QVC-style capitalism overtaking our creative spaces. It feels like a cultural turning point.

Next: I’m exploring what it looks like to build an online presence without selling my soul (or my pores). Expect experiments in book criticism, culture essays, and creative life updates, minus the bathroom lighting and sponsorship codes.

How: I’ll share the behind-the-scenes of how I navigate this tension: How writers grow online without becoming content machines… and whether it’s still possible to keep your humanity in a world built for selling.

If you want to follow this exploration of culture, art, motherhood, and creativity without turning into an NPC on TikTok—stick around.

We’ll figure it out together.