One Year on Substack: What I've Learned (Along with some "Growth Opportunities")

I came here to find readers, and maybe sell some books. A year in, some things haven’t quite panned out, while one brings unexpected joy.

Apparently, this is what teens think I look like.

And just like that: it’s been a full year that I’ve been on Substack (wow, time flies when the world’s devolving into a dystopian hellscape!). Today I’m going to break from my regularly scheduled screedery to share what I’ve learned here. If you’re interested in finding your people here—and in my case, also marketing a book—I hope it’s of use.

Con 1: Slow Growth

I’m not what you’d call an early adopter. A few years back, when I first heard about a new platform called “Substack” where you could actually earn money from creative writing, I let it slide. I’d recently started publishing on Medium, and I was perfectly happy there.

But Medium didn’t really work out for me. Though it was an improvement on my handmade, 20th-century style blog, growth was still painfully slow. Substack offered me access to an entire ecosystem of readers, but there was a catch: It was up to me to convince them I offered something of value.

How’s that going? When I joined Substack I had just over 600 subscribers; as of this writing I have just short of 1000. Not bad, though the pace isn’t where I’d like it to be. What would help? Getting comfortable with Notes. What do I resist most on Substack? Getting comfortable with Notes.

“Notes” is Substack’s version of a scrolling feed. While I often hear Substack touted as an alternative to social media, that’s only true up to a point. If you actually want to grow your readership, you’ll have to engage with Notes. According to Substack, its algorithm is slightly subtler than most:

“Substack doesn't prioritize frequency of posting in its algorithm like many other platforms. Substack's algorithm favors content that engages readers through deep reads, considered arguments, and robust debate.”

That’s all well and good, and it’s evident that it works: Posting (and engaging with) Notes is cited as a major driver of followers and subscribers. But there’s a problem: Try as I might, mine almost never gain traction. Nearly everything I share there—like, over 95%—disappears without any reaction or response whatsoever.

Why? Beats me. Maybe I’m too self-conscious or sales-ey. Maybe I don’t post enough blimp crashes. But whatever the reason, it’s a bit disheartening. And so I end up just not using Notes that often (and suffering the slower growth that comes as a result). Am I going to keep trying? Yes, though sometimes it’s a bit of a grind.

Bonus: If you’d like to know more about what kinds of offerings do actually work here, start with Sarah Fay’s 9 Reasons People Pay to Subscribe on Substack post.

Con 2: Show Me The Money (Assuming It’s There)

On Medium, my earnings—certainly not my prime motivation for writing—were minimal. My most recent payout there totaled $0.12.

Now, a year in on Substack, my writing pays for my coffee habit: $1000 a year, give or take. Don’t get me wrong: I’m grateful—deeply and profoundly—to those who support my work financially, but in the larger picture it’s fairly negligible.

Could it be different? Absolutely, though I’m not convinced that’s the right question. Should it be different? For those writers who provide real nuts-and-bolts value—the Jeannine Ouilettes and Sarah Fays and such—sure. They should (and do) earn serious money here. But what I share here isn’t needful in the same way.

Put differently, I put a lot of effort into my writing, and I love that it sparks glimmers of resonance for so many of you. But whether there’s just not a huge audience for the kind of emotional and spiritual excavation I do—or that I’m not great at using the tools at hand—I’m left feeling a bit…meh.

Con 3: Slow Book Sales

A major reason I wanted to build my list was to sell my book (have I told you about my book…lately?). It seemed like a no-brainer that a decent chunk of readers who liked what I shared for free would cough up the measly $16.99 for a book.

Here’s the reality; According to my publisher’s website analytics, thus far just 19 sales have come directly from Substack. While the numbers are hard to parse—how many subscribers, for instance, pre-ordered the book from other sources?—it’s clear my efforts haven’t exactly gone gangbusters.

Were my expectations realistic? Not really. As

Summer Koester

recently shared, it takes far more so-called “touch points” to sell a book than I thought. I wish it were different, but hey: I believe in reality. Given the choice between feeling sour or feeling grateful for those 19 sales, the choice is easy.

Bonus: For a deeper dive on selling books on Substack, start with

Eleanor Anstruther

and The Indie Author Learning Curve.

Pro: Great Connections with Great People

Even if I struggle with the more social aspects of Substack, there’s one fairly huge upside: I’ve found that many of the people I interact with here feel like actual friends.

Some of these connections exist solely on Substack. Others have blossomed into email exchanges or Zoom calls. One invitation produced a sparsely attended (but delightful) IRL meetup with

Holly Starley

and

Kerala Taylor

. When I feel uncertain about just what I’m doing here, these connections help keep me going.

What’s in store for this Substack? More gratitude, for one. It may be that writing about obscure topics such as punk, psychedelics, and ancestral healing may not be the untapped goldmine I once hoped. But ultimately, it’s up to me whether or not to be okay with this. Again, the choice is pretty clear. Thanks for tagging along with me, and I hope the second year is even better than the first.