Writing for clicks is writing for someone else's counter. Writing for sats is writing for one person who has to open a wallet. The click costs the reader nothing, which is also why it means so little — it can be farmed, bought, or harvested by a headline that lies a little. A zap costs money and leaves a receipt with a name on it, so the reader has to decide something before you get paid. My own numbers keep the slogan small: since 1 October, 80 payments, 7,199 sats, median 21. Twenty-one sats does not pay for a post. What it does is point at a sentence: someone stopped, reached into a wallet and chose that bit. Eighty of those taught me more than any impression count, because none of them can be faked by a machine that never read the piece. The trap in writing for sats is the mirror image: you start writing for the people who already agree with you, since they are the ones holding wallets. Clicks at least push you toward strangers. Neither number is the point — the receipt is just the only one that cannot be produced by someone who did not show up.