How to Save Your Digital Life
A (self) preservation guide for writers
You have something to say to the world. You’ve agonized over every word, read and reread and proofread your work. Your finger hovers over the publish button. You take a breath and hit send.
Now what?
In the old days, writers kept physical copies of the magazines and newspapers where their work was published. I have two copies of the first magazine that published one of my short stories. Come to think of it, I have two copies of every print journal that ever published my work.
It’s standard practice in archives to keep two copies of printed material. One for display and access, one to preserve in an acid-free box in a climate-controlled space.
But what do you do when your creative life is mostly digital?
Let’s face it, digital life is fragile. Links break, online magazines and journals close, and platforms can decide to take down content for mercurial reasons, putting your words out of reach. If you valued the work enough to share it with the world, it deserves to be preserved, too.
Saving your own digital life
I won’t lie, building your digital archive will take a little planning, but consider the alternative. I’ll be explaining the fundamentals of digital preservation in The Basics. Once you’ve made some decisions about what belongs in your archive all you’ll need going forward is to add a few post-publication tasks each time you publish either here on Substack or anywhere out in the world.
What’s in it for you?
Perpetual access to your work for one thing. You won’t have to trust the platform or assume there will be an evergreen link to your work. You’ll own the digital file and can rest easy knowing your valuable creative assets are protected and preserved.
And when you win a Pulitzer or the National Book Award?
Then maybe your alma mater will come calling and you’ll already have a well-organized digital library at your fingertips. It will be up to you how much or how little you want to make public —only your finest work or juicy emails where you dish the dirt. Salman Rushdie donated notebooks, photographs, manuscripts, and even a Macintosh Performa 5400 he used in the 1990s to Emory University where he was a professor.
Start building your legacy
The Basics posts will get you started. Future newsletters may dig into more details, share some examples, or answer questions from readers. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll try to find a digital archivist who does.