Unexpected Insights From My 1 Year Substack Experiment

Part one of two. What Substack has given me, what's worked for me, what's next, but mostly, a full and grateful heart and lots of love for all of you.

Hello and welcome to Notes from the Town Hermit, a haven for the overthinkers and deep-feelers who search for reasons why life should be worth living. I write so you feel seen by giving words to the unspeakable. These letters are a labour of love, so if you have the means and want to sponsor my writing, please upgrade.

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Dear Inklings,

One year ago this month, I posted my very first personal essay on

Substack

(the platform I use to send out these newsletters). Usually I take much longer to make decisions, but this one was made on a whim to see how it would compare to Wordpress.

Wow, did my experiment pay off.

For this two-part anniversary post, I’ll be sharing what I’ve gained through this past year of posting a weekly newsletter, what’s worked for me and what hasn’t, my plans for year two.

What I won’t be doing in this post is sharing my metrics. What I’m writing about today is how Substack gave me the ability to write what I’m passionate about, in a way that will also become financially sustainable (eventually).¹

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Related (if you want the numbers from half a year ago and the story of how I started):

6 Months on Substack: Lessons From a Newbie

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What I’ve gained in the past year through writing on Substack

1. Confidence to write from my heart and share it with courage.

I’ve been writing little stories since I could hold a pen and string more than two words together. My grand ambitions of being an author led me to write a story of mistaken identity between two girls, in which one became a princess, the other a peasant, which I stapled together and presented as a gift to anyone who would take it. It was a proud moment when I learned my fifth-grade teacher had kept it in his classroom library and told all incoming students that his former student had written it.

Leaving the whimsy of childhood behind for the realities of, well, real life, I fought bravely and lost against the ogres of this world. I lost my voice and tucked it away behind pseudonyms and secret blogs. If I started to feel some sneaking sense of being too seen, or if I found out someone I knew had found me, I’d delete the site, disappear for a while, and swear never to do it again.

But as anyone who claims the name of “Writer” knows, the itch will itch, and the desire to sprinkle my words somewhere out there on the digital landscape always overpowered my need to hide away.

For one whole year, I have been writing at least one letter a week and sending it out. For the first time, I am writing under my real name. For the first time, my two worlds have come together—the online writing and the offline—and what a strange yet beautiful medley of oddments we create.

The fear of being seen hasn’t fully dissipated, but I don’t plan to disappear anytime soon.

2. A consistent writing and publishing habit which made me a stronger writer.

Regardless of audience size, I’d still be writing one way or another, but there is something special about the culture here on Substack that has fundamentally changed me as a writer. I attribute it to 1) the quality of writers here and 2) the level of engagement. I’ve always pushed myself to become a better writer, but before Substack, I had no idea how to do that, short of getting an MFA, which life circumstances do not allow.

Writing in a vacuum can easily make me start thinking yeah, I’m pretty good, not too shabby. Reading so much high quality writing humbles me and challenges me to keep improving.

The high levels of engagement are motivating in a way nothing else can be. Truthfully, if we didn’t want anyone reading our work, we’d be scribbling away in diaries instead of blogging on the Internet.

This, above anything else, has motivated me to keep me publishing consistently week after week for the past year. As

S.E. Reid

said in her interview with

Eleanor Anstruther

, “I’ve been a private fiction writer for ages and ages, countless (and I mean countless) starts and stops to various projects, hard drives chock full of notes and prose and ideas…and all of a sudden, Substack uncorked the bottle and let me feel like I can actually put all of that stuff together in a cohesive way. It’s genuinely miraculous.”

3. Kindred spirits and communities I adore being part of.

I’ve connected with many of you and I treasure that so much. From shared experiences to shared emotions, we’ve founded a Fellowship of kindred spirits. I’ve realised, yes, I’m still an oddity and will probably always feel so, but I am learning to embrace this sense of un-belonging that we share.

Rebecca D. Martin

,

Karen May

,

Rachel Ooi

,

Jade Eby

,

Martha Nichols

,

Sarah Li-Cain

,

Victoria

,

Jeannine Ouellette

,

Mary Roblyn

,

Susan Kuenzi

,

Matthew Long

,

Esmé Weijun Wang

,

Holly A Brown

,

JRR Jokien

,

Emily Levin

, and

Imola

are just some of you I’ve had the privilege of finding a shared spirit with.

A fresh wave of niche groups have popped up around Substack. It’s been incredible to see people come together and support each other.

Robin Taylor (he/him)

started Smallstack to feature publications with less than 500 subscribers, and he’s building a thriving community there.

Locked In

is a writing group for BIPOC to have weekly writing sessions together.

Mr. Troy Ford

started QStack for LGBTQ+ creators. And of course, I created the AWC for Asian writers.

Elin Petronella

once wrote in a Note that Substack is like the place where all the people who felt like the odd one out ended up. Many of us feel like extra parts who don’t belong anywhere. Here, I have found a home.

4. A space to explore ideas I’m interested in and a home for my rejected works.

Here, I’m allowed to wrestle with my own thoughts without the compulsion to come to a neat conclusion. Life is made of un-neat conclusions. I’m given the space to grow into my opinions and beliefs. Because of the push and pull of engagement on Substack, and most importantly, the graciousness of readers, I can go deeper, consider different angles, and form fuller thoughts.

Heidi Tai

recently wrote,

“One of the very first articles I ever read on Substack. This is my first time sharing this, but these words by Tiffany Chu left me weeping at an airport. To hide my tears, I pretended to be asleep the entire plane ride (even sacrificed the in-flight snacks)!! When I got home, I told my family I was ready to open my heart and to write again.”

Rejection stings less and less nowadays. Increasingly, I’m at peace that my words connect with those it is meant to. For some of you, they’re life-saving. That’s enough for me.

5. The ability to value my own work.

Before Substack, I never thought my writing was worth anything. Over this past year, so many of you have shown me such kindness in telling me how my writing helped you in your own grief, helped you feel less alone, helped you feel seen. Some of you consider that worth paying for so that I am able to keep doing it.

One year ago, I’d never have considered my writing worth paying for. My confidence and skill has grown more in the past year than in the decades I’ve been writing elsewhere. Being paid to write pushes me to achieve the highest standard I’m capable of because now I see it as a legitimate job—one I absolutely love.

What’s next for Notes from the Town Hermit

There are currently three sections for this publication:

1. Notes from the Town Hermit (Wednesdays). My main publication, where I will continue to publish personal essays written with nuance about relatable and universal topics. Over the past year, I’ve covered subjects like grief and child loss, adoption, friendship, identity, belonging and home, mortality, and more. This year, I also want to explore my ambivalent feelings toward Christianity, mental and chronic illness, infertility, and breaking negative intergenerational cycles. For the upcoming fall, these will be less frequent because of the Lord of the Rings challenge.

2. Fiction (Fridays). I am serialising Revenir, the anthology I wrote with Ren exploring the human experience and delving deep into themes of love, loss, and the search for meaning. After that wraps up in December 2024, I’ll focus on getting it ready for print publication before I move on to the next project.

3. Lord of the Rings Reading Challenge (Sundays). Running from September 22 to the end of 2024, this is for those participating in the book club as we read through the trilogy. If you haven’t already, make sure to complete the first reading by the 22nd!

On the surface, it may appear as though these sections are wildly different from each other. Actually, my voice and themes remains consistent throughout. They all feed into each other.

Everything comes back to the heartbeat of this newsletter: words that make you feel less alone.

With Love from the Town Hermit,

Related:

Start Here

I Didn't Want to Be an Author

6 Months on Substack: Lessons From a Newbie

1. Caveat: I’m a big believer in multiple streams of income, and Substack is just one of them. However, it does allow me to write what I’m most passionate about, so it’s something I’d like to be able to focus on. I also think the carrot Substack holds out to new writers of being able to make a full-time income from Substack itself is somewhat of a shady marketing carrot. It is possible, but rarely, and it definitely doesn’t happen as quickly as they make it look sometimes. A conversation for another time, perhaps.