Writing to live, living to write

How people who haven't got a lot of confidence, but really want to write can get the most from Substack.

This is kind of a follow up to my article Why I write in public, which you can read here. The phrase follow-up makes it sound far more coordinated than it was – the reality is that my original article began to ramble away in a different direction which made me consider that perhaps it might not be that good to read, so I split it in two. Is that too honest?

How does Substack fit into this writer’s life?

This is a question that seems to be being asked a lot. I’m pretty new to the platform (I’ve only really found my groove this year) and I’m aware there are a lot of changes in terms of function and form, not all of which are welcome. I’m also aware that there are people who make a genuinely good living as part of this platform which in my naivety I’d never considered possible.

I’m not here to look at either of those things. As ever I’m not really in the loop with the popular kids, (I’ve always been more of a skulking at the edge of the disco waiting for the bad kids to offer me a fag type of lass) so I can’t comment on the brilliance needed to make money find it's way from Substack and into my pocket and I certainly can’t comment on whether any of the new changes are good or bad. What I can comment on is the negative behaviours I’ve noticed in myself, and how I think (!) I’ve nipped them in the bud.

When I properly dived into Substack I felt I’d found my tribe – writers, artists, political commentators, music lovers – all here, all writing. I was going to be part of it! I was going to write and be read! I might even make some cash!

So I wrote. And I wrote again. And I got some interaction. And I felt like a bit of a fake. So I stopped. And I felt a bit sad and started again. And then I realised I really want people to watch my poetry films so I put those on here. And I got a bit of interaction. But not very much. So I stopped. And I felt a bit sad. You get the picture .

At the start of the year I began to take Substack a bit more seriously, to consider what I want to say and the result is that I've begun to feel like I’m actually writing in a way I'm proud of, and that feels true to who I am. I made some new friends and those people seemed to like what I was writing. Which was all fabulous…

….until

I started reading all the “how to get eight hundred and seventy billion subscribers in 4 days” articles, or even genuinely helpful pieces about how to write what Substack wants to read.

Photo by Edward Howell on Unsplash

I typed graph into Unsplash and this came up. Much nicer. Also a clue as to why I’m not the most target driven person in the world.

I began to drift into old habits. Trying to understand the algorithm. Wondering about SEO. Trying to emulate other successful (i.e. heart gathering) articles. I began to get a flutter of anxiety every time I thought about opening the app – would there be any interaction? Would I have finally cracked it?

I’m not competitive about anything other than writing. And maybe quizzes. But most other things leave me unworried about winning. Writing though – well that’s my thing. If I’m no good at that, what do I have to offer? Writing matters to me and metrics are a measure of that. And one of the most alluring metrics is money. I’m not a “big writer” and I’m unlikely to ever reach that status. Unfortunately, so many people measure success in terms of how much money is earned – and by that metric I’ve failed before I’ve begun. It takes a will of steel to keep going and keep believing that there is someone out there who needs to read what I write.

Reasons that I love Substack

This belief is one of the biggest reasons Substack works for me. I love the new community I’ve found here. My work is reaching more people and the interaction boosts confidence and friendship. I enjoy the fact that I’m finding new writing and new writers.

Things I don’t like so much

What I don’t enjoy is the way I feel about subscriber numbers and those little likes. This feeling is my responsibility, and I don’t think it’s a reason to stop using the platform, although I am concerned that I’ve begun to get flutters of anxiety when I get a notification, a kind of pre-emptive disappointment. I still have a sense of this being a club where I don’t quite fit, and don’t really understand the rules but I’m pretty sure there are a lot of us here who feel the same way.  

I enjoy the reading, writing, and thinking, and I do feel Substack is beneficial to me as a writer. It’s definitely better than watching infinite reels and it’s no more anxiety inducing than other social media platforms.

What I’m cautious about

I need to bear in mind how I portion my time. I have around four - 6 hours functional time for five days out of seven – that’s for all work, domestic, social, fun, and writerly activities. It’s not a lot and managing it can feel like a full-time job some days.

I also need to keep control of the part of me that so desperately wants to be included, yet always seems to be on the back foot. The reality is that it’s that back foot that gives me empathy, compassion and understanding of what my voice can really mean to people in the same leaky boat.

What I cut away will make a difference. I need to be rigorous about quelling the urge to emulate those Substackers who have huge success in terms of numbers and money. Of course, I need to make ends wave at each other, but my bespoke poetry and other client work are the things that do this. I’ve never had a lot of money, and never minded this (fortunately I have my father’s bargain hunting, make do and mend, gene). I’m fed and warm, with no dependents, other than the majestic cat, so I have a degree of freedom that many others do not have.   

What I need to do

Ultimately, I need to focus on why I love to write, in both private and in public. And I feel that means cutting the number chasing aspect that being part of Substack can slip into. Getting hung up on numbers taps into my latent need to prove I’m a “big writer”.

Making lots and lots of money has never been a driving force for me at any point in my life. I know that I’m more proud of the work I do that makes people feel heard and valuable than I am of the work I do that makes people buy things. For me, Substack fits into this first category. Writing these articles, puzzling out my own feelings and thoughts about being a writer, reading and embracing the responses is feeding some part of my spirit. And I think that’s enough. I just need to be sure I don’t allow the little kid who wants to prove themselves get too big a voice.

Coming up…

April is a reset month for me (spring is brilliant isn’t it) and I’ve spent the last week looking over my poems from the last couple of years and drawing up a new action plan. If I can stick to it, even more good things will be happening soon. Business is going steadily – it’s taken me a while to understand what I offer and to offer something I’m proud of, but I can genuinely say I love each poem I write for my brides and grooms as well as the prints I make. If I consider how I was floundering this time last year (my main copywriting agency folded overnight) I can feel proud of how I’m keeping on keeping on. And that’s a great thing to feel.

Until next time

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To read more of my poetry follow this link