10k subscribers and one giant lesson
I still can't quite believe I'm writing this, but here we are.
Yesterday morning I woke up and let out the most excitable scream ever heard in the history of humanity. It was 6am and, as per usual, my half asleep, sloth-like arms reached straight for my phone to check if any interesting emails had landed overnight (it’s a bad habit, I know, I know). After a few minutes of casual scrolling I opened the little orange app of dreams and saw that I’d hit 10k newsletter subscribers - a goal I’ve been working towards since the literal dawn of time.
Ever since that fateful moment 24 hours ago I’ve been thinking about how I got here. It’d be easy to say the growth happened by crossing my fingers, publishing into the ether and hoping the algorithm was nice to me on Friday mornings at 8:30am AEST, but that would be a bold-faced lie. The truth is, for the last 19 months my world has revolved around writing. It’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I do at night. I’m a writer-woman obsessed. Perhaps possessed.
As a native Substacker who didn’t have much of an existing audience elsewhere, I’ve tried very very very very hard to establish myself here. I say this not to gas myself up but because when we see other peoples’ results - awards, cool opportunities, new jobs, good press, subscribers, followers, sales, business growth etc. - very few people (myself included) realise the true effort that sits behind it. The sleepless hours, vulnerability hangovers, risks, sacrifices, stress, fear, failed attempts and moments of wanting to throw it all away.
As Alex Hormozi says, “outcomes are obvious but trying is opaque”, and bloody oath, he’s right. The art of effort is unseen, a fact made worse because we don’t talk about putting our heart and life on the line. Trying hard isn’t sexy. Trying hard is cringe. Trying hard is lame. That’s what society says anyway.
But you know what I find lame? Not talking about how much energy you exerted because you want something hugely effortful, to look effortless. That’s unsexy. That’s cringe. That’s fake news. So in the spirit of transparency here’s a list of things I tried really hard at to make this happen, and I hope it’ll encourage you to speak louder about your efforts too.
A list of things I’ve tried really hard at
I’ve tried hard not to force myself into a niche, a vertical, a persona or a sphere of expertise. This goes against my business brain and every bit of marketing advice, but I’ve always known that putting myself in a content straight jacket would leave me gasping for air, so much so that I’d go mad and give up.
I’ve tried hard to improve my craft and make every word, sentence, paragraph, title and final line ooze lyricism or drip with sarcastic wit. Sometimes a post takes 8-10 hours, much of which is spent staring out the window, erasing ideas that suck, tinkering with metaphors and feeling existential creative resistance until, at the final moment, it all comes together in the most unexpected of ways.
I’ve tried hard to develop my thinking, taking ideas from random places and remixing them in weird ways. I combine business with creativity, the startup methodology with art, personal growth with a sprinkle of spirituality, portfolio careers and life. I take inspiration from everywhere and everyone, and I think reading broadly has helped me stand out.
I’ve tried hard to build a community not an audience, spending anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours each morning responding to comments, DMs, messages and emails. I actively connect with other writers who inspire me - I’ve met at least 50 for virtual coffees (hello if you’re reading this!). I’m a real human, and I’m committed to building real relationships with real people even though it takes time.
I’ve tried hard to get over my fear of being seen, heard and criticised. And my fear of being cancelled for saying the wrong thing. And my fear of other people ripping off my writing or impersonating me online. And my fear of trolls. And my fear of accidentally offending someone. And my fear of looking dumb. And my fear of building in public and failing. And my fear of being cringe. Oh…and I’ve tried really hard in therapy.
I’ve tried hard to build a portfolio career of products and services that people genuinely need, so I’m earning more than enough and can stay true to what feels right - keeping this newsletter free.
I’ve tried hard to publish every week (93 and counting!), a feat that was insanely difficult to begin with but is now part of my natural rhythm. They say that consistency is everything and so far I agree.
I’ve tried hard to become a better version of myself, a stronger version of myself, a braver version of myself, so that I can be more open, more generous, more interesting, more interested, more giving, more authentic, more courageous and more alive.
I’ve tried hard and it’s paid off.
Effort > Results
Despite popular opinion, being a try-hard is not cringeworthy or something to be ashamed of. To the contrary, it’s admirable. There’s something powerful in proclaiming “I want this and I’m going to try as hard as humanly possible to make it happen”. There’s something valiant in saying “it might not work but I’m going to give it the biggest crack of my life anyway”.
Ironically, while hitting a milestone feels great and delivers a shot of dopamine straight to the ol’ ego, I’ve learned that the most valuable part of doing anything is the process of trying hard itself. It’s being someone who has a dream, tunes out the world and does everything you can to make it yours. It’s attempting to grow a newsletter, establish a community, build a business, nurture a family, show up in your relationships, make a difference, start a movement and contribute to the world in whatever meaningful way you can.
So keep dreaming. Keep striving. Keep trying. Keep pursuing and please never stop. Because at some stage, at some point, you’ll look back and realise that you gave it your all and it changed your life.
A couple of other lessons I’ve learned on Substack and audience growth:
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Love this post! It said everything I needed to hear and congratulations for sharing and writing about this milestone of yours. i think when people see the numbers or simple other people's "success" we often have no idea the Hard Work and went unseen, the non-billable hours of labour, for the work we believe in and love.
I especially resonated with: "I’ve tried hard to get over my fear of being seen, heard and criticized. And my fear of being cancelled for saying the wrong thing. And my fear of other people ripping off my writing or impersonating me online. And my fear of trolls. And my fear of accidentally offending someone. And my fear of looking dumb...."
I just started on Substack and published my first post last week! I am proud and terrified at the same time, it was a big step towards me confronting and facing all those very same fears you spoke of. Thank you
I am still reading because you continue to show up, s#it scared or not, your voice is authentic and lifts and inspires, so I will keep reading, with gratitude. The numbers are nice, however it is the engagement between me (and all your readers) with who you be that makes the real difference. Numbers are nice, but do not reflect how you play in our minds and hearts. So mind the numbers, and celebrate the connections.