PSA: AI Comments, Unhinged Energy, and Why Substack Feels Like a Victorian Séance

PSA: AI Comments, Unhinged Energy, and Why Substack Feels Like a Victorian Séance

You know you made it as an author when someone ends a comment with go away.

Alex Eos
Apr 04, 2026

As a writer, you hope for the usual accolades—the Hugo, the Booker, maybe a polite nod from a literary magazine that almost pays in exposure.

What you don’t expect is the very specific moment when a piece of bad writing hits you in the face, you bite your lip until it almost bleeds, and still make the mistake of commenting.

You point out a simple historical inaccuracy about a British monarch you’ve actually studied—because, unlike some people, you check your timelines.

And instead of “good catch,” you get a full rant from someone deeply committed to being wrong in public.

While I love chaos and I respond to most of you all, and your notes because lets face it Substack feels like a salon where every is unhinged, caffeinated and ready throw hands over craft, theory, or whatever adverbs/Adjectives deserve humans rights —do not get me started on Renting, Unhoused and the word homelessness— But let’s get one thing straight:

If you’re going to tell someone to “go away” because they pointed out a historical inaccuracy, you should probably not be wrong about the history.

Let’s be clear about something: calling out a historical inaccuracy is not an attack. It is not censorship. It is not a personal betrayal. It is someone gently (or not gently, depending on the day) reminding you that facts exist and occasionally matter.

Because here’s the issue: when you confidently say something like Freud was sent to treat Queen Victoria for oversexual behavior, you are no longer in the realm of “interpretation.” You are in the realm of “that is not how timelines or reality work.”

Quick reality check:

Now—are there debates about Queen Victoria’s private life? Yes.

Are there conflicting interpretations about her sexuality, especially after Prince Albert’s death? Also yes.

But “conflicting interpretations” is not a free pass to invent medical appointments.

And this is where the AI comment energy comes in.

Some comments read like:

Like someone fed Wikipedia, Tumblr, and a fever dream into a blender and hit “publish.”

And then—when someone pushes back—you get:

All because someone said, “Hey, that’s not accurate.”

Here’s the thing:

You can be wrong.

You can be corrected.

You can even argue your interpretation.

But if your response to factual correction is to start a comment war, you are no longer defending your work—you are just auditioning for “Most Dramatic Thread of the Week.”

No.

I don’t fight people on Substack. I’m not here for comment-section cage matches. I have better things to do than argue with someone who thinks being corrected is a personal attack.

But I also don’t do whining.

If you’re going to post publicly, you are inviting response. That includes people who know what they’re talking about.

You don’t get to:

That’s not how this works.

You can be wrong. It happens. You can even double down if you want—that’s your personal brand such as your truly.

But telling someone to go away because they checked your facts?

That’s not confidence. That’s fragility with a keyboard.

So here’s the policy going forward:

I will not argue with you.

I will not chase you through the comments.

I will not match your energy if it devolves into nonsense.

But I will correct what’s incorrect, and then I will move on.

If that bothers you, that’s fine.

You are free to ignore me.

Just like I’m free to not tolerate bad history dressed up as insight.

You have a few options when someone points something out:

  1. You’re wrong
    • Say: “Good catch.”
    • Adjust.
    • Move on.
      This builds trust immediately.
  2. You’re partially right
    • Clarify your angle.
    • Acknowledge the gap.
    • Tighten the language next time.
  3. They’re wrong
    • Correct cleanly.
    • No theatrics.
    • No character assassination.
  4. You don’t care enough to engage
    • Don’t.
      Silence is free.

Homework: Don’t Be an Asshole (In Practice)

We’re going to run a small experiment in emotional regulation and basic professionalism.

Step 1: Find a Moment

Go back to:

If nothing comes to mind, congratulations—you are lying to yourself.

Step 2: Diagnose the Situation

Ask yourself which category it actually was:

Be honest. This is for you, not your public image.

Step 3: Rewrite Your Response (Like a Functional Adult)

Write the response you should have given:

Step 4: Now Compare It to What You Actually Did

Did you:

Good. That’s the point.

Step 5: The One Rule Going Forward

Before you hit “reply,” ask:

“Am I protecting the work, or my ego?”

If it’s your ego, close the tab. Drink water. Touch grass. Return when you remember you’re not the main character of the internet.

Bonus Level (For the Brave):

The next time someone corrects you, respond cleanly in real time.

No spiraling. No paragraph. No performance.

Just accuracy and forward motion.

That’s how you build trust. That’s how you keep readers.

And, most importantly, that’s how you avoid becoming the comment everyone screenshots for the wrong reasons.

Anyway—facts still exist.

Do with that what you will.

— Alex Eos 🧋🌶️🌶️🌶️

Have you ever watched someone get corrected online and turn a simple “good catch” into a full gothic collapse of the ego?