Trusting the Duffel Blog audience

I used to depend on metrics to figure out what my audiences want, and now I trust readers to inform me directly.

Building trust was the central message I took away from the incredible Entrepreneurial Journalism Creators Program, a three-month training curriculum for journalists trying to build their own niche media ventures. My task was to revitalize the satirical website Duffel Blog, a digital media side project I launched in 2012. Over the years it grew so popular with so many American military members that it once made the front page of The Wall Street Journal, earned the praise of a former defense secretary named Jim Mattis and several U.S. senators, and was widely shared on social media.

But most readers had no idea that Duffel Blog was seldom profitable. And why would they? They saw the articles in their feed, enjoyed them, ignored the ads, and moved on. That was fine for a while, especially since I was a full-time journalist and my news parody side project was mostly kept alive by an amazing cast of military veteran contributors writing for the love of it rather than the small amount of money I managed to pay them. And with relatively low overhead (no offices, just me, a wonderful part-time editor and freelance writers, web hosting, software), it didn’t cost that much to keep up.

But in 2020, Duffel Blog was failing. Facebook algorithm changes made reaching my fans increasingly difficult. Revenue declined from banner ads, which were often intrusive and bad for the reader experience. I knew I needed to make a change. So I made a terrifying decision: I’d move to a new and exciting newsletter platform called Substack and ask readers, “can we have your support?”

Duffel Blog relaunched as a newsletter in November. And since then, I’ve been blown away by the support of readers, who have answered that question with a resounding yes. When the first email went out to about 20,000 people (an email list built organically over the past 8 years) on Nov. 6, I had no idea whether anyone would pay. “Please support us in our mission,” I asked. To my surprise, 29 people did.

On Nov. 12, I formally announced we now had no advertising and were totally dependent on readers. Sixty more people signed up. Then I made a transparent appeal to readers explaining why we switched to a newsletter and talked about my vision for where I wanted Duffel Blog to go, and I introduced a more focused mission: to advance critical thinking in national security through satire and smart humor.

Hundreds more came on board. It seemed like many were just waiting for this moment to support us, but never knew how. “I’ve been a faithful fan ever since you all started publishing!” one reader told me. “I am proud to support you and your splendid team,” said another.

Of course, that was in between hilarious articles like ‘Offering a ‘return to normalcy,’ Biden pledges troop surges in Iraq and Afghanistan’ and ‘Critics warn National Guard lacks exit strategy for presidential inauguration.

But readers have made it clear that their support is about much more than that. As one Marine veteran told me, “I [subscribed] because I’m old enough to understand the value and importance of your type of humor, that is in the same vein as Sad Sack, Ernie Pyle and other great WWII humor pubs.

“But the purpose of my writing is to express my appreciation for your clear and full explanation of why you took this action,” wrote the longtime fan, a Marine who had served in Vietnam and was, through Duffel Blog, still connected to the military of today. “It is rare to find such candor and truth. Also, it gave me a better understanding of what it takes to publish Duffel Blog. Even though I’ve been reading it for about 3 years I never took the time to understand how it all comes together.”

Now, there are more than 700 subscribers to Duffel Blog, and I couldn’t be happier. A big reason for that is due to what I learned from my colleagues and the expert instructors at CUNY. But I’m especially grateful to my readers, who are ensuring the sustainability of what was once merely a hobby.

And I trust they’ll show me the path forward.