A couple weeks ago I got stuck writing this post. Mostly because I needed 2-3 emails to explore everything I wanted to say. Here is the first. Sending it out early since Iām traveling this weekend. āļø
I started publishing on Substack one year ago. š„³
Today Iām pulling back the curtain on that experience including sharing exactly how much profit came in and where it went.
I feel like weāre all expected to project this smokescreen of ultimate professionalism when the real magic is human to human connection.
Over the past 10 years longform content seemed like it had itās heyday and was a thing of the past.
Engagement on my blog gradually declined until it was crickets. My podcast was getting downloads, but there was no convenient way to hold discussions.
What I love best about Substack is the community. The robust commenting system that allows for ongoing discussion and connecting.
Over the past year Iāve noticed more and more comments in my posts and watched connections bloom and flourish.
My words now exist in an ecosystem instead of a vacuum and are having a real tangible impact.
I write for connection.
My goal isnāt more eyeballs or ever increasing paid subs (even though Substack seems to want us to want those things).
Itās about connecting with kindred spirits.
As an autistic person who spent most of my life feeling like an outsiderā¦ I do not take that connection lightly.
I write to exchange experiences about creativity, about neurodivergence, about identity, and about motherhood.
I donāt write to hear myself talk.
I write to hear from you.
Comments are the lifeblood of my Substack. Your words are what keep me coming back to the keyboard week after week.
Financial Transparency
I see more and more folks who are showing up to Substack as a full time job (or a big wedge in a multi passionate pie.)
Maybe one day Substack will be profitable for me, but for now it is a self sufficient passion project.
I also want to share transparently that my partnerās IT job covers most of our living expenses. And my university adjunct position helps us pay for childcare (a neurodivergent sitter who we love and are so grateful for.) Growing up in families with less financial stability I really want to name that privilege.
Last year I made a stab at envisioning my creative work as a business. But after my husband received a generous promotion I had to reevaluate.
Why are we always trying to make more money? What is the point?
What does it matter if I have two degrees and am not financially contributing to the family? What about all of my unpaid labor parenting and educating?
What if I didnāt ask myself what my work was āworthā but instead focused on the impact Iād like it to have?
Iām reimagining everything - starting with my paid tier here on Substack, but more on that later.
That said, I would love for my creative pursuits to break even.
Paid subscribers help me afford transcription for podcast episodes, upgrade equipment (like when my microphone stopped working earlier this year), and invest in materials and tools to make things.
Your support here helps me focus on making non commercial art like this:
And this:
Rather than chasing whatever seems the most marketable. š
Iāve also decided moving forward that educational content I create about neurodivergence will be FREE for EVERYONE.
Which means the Sensory Processing Training I created last summer is now free to share with anyone (including schools and teachers!)
So where does all the money go?
Iām glad you asked.
The State of the Stack
Hereās a breakdown of the money that came in and went out last year.
Paid subs came to $340.
Substack and Stripe took the first cut.
Then I paid for transcription services through Otter.
I paid for VSCO which I use to edit photographs on my iPhone.
Then, when my podcast mic died on me, I used the rest of the generous funds to upgrade.
NOTE: You DO NOT NEED a fancy microphone to podcast or share audio content. But when you invest in my creative work I like to use that to help improve my gear and pay for creative supplies.
After buying a cable for the new mic I was $8.15 in the hole. I see this as a huge win and am so grateful to everyone who has pledged for any length of time.
Whatās next?
I want to do something BIG. Something EXPANSIVE. š«
Iāve asked myself what I would create if I completely removed the pressure to monetize and Iām excited to share that with you soon.
Letās discuss.
If you had the privilege and funding to undertake a passion project what would it be?
Cheers,
Oh, I can relate on so many levels. Last year, my husband and I (also in IT) welcomed our first son. We decided Iād stay home for at least three months but now weāre in month 12 and Iām not looking for an outside job yet.
Iām privileged that we donāt NEED two incomes but Iāve also been working since I was sixteen and not contributing any income has been a lot harder than I imagined. When I started my Substack last November, and even before that, I put this HUGE amount of pressure on myself to āfigure out my writing careerā and make it financially solvent while I had this time āoffā at home raising our son.
I know, I know.
Thereās a lot of unlearning and re-patterning Iām doing around my value as a mother/writer/creator. Itās hard not to want to see some external validation for what Iām putting into the world but lately Iām trying to focus on the fact that writing for me isnāt really a choice, itās like breathing. And even if I was alone in a cave for one thousand years, Iād still be writing every day.
The money/creativity equation is one Iām still trying to solve for myself but ever so grateful for the gracious transparency offered here and knowing Iām not alone.
Oh Iāve had similar thoughts about āwastingā my degrees since choosing to stay home with my kids and homeschool. Reevaluating how I define my āworthā after I stopped working a day job has been a years long process. I think the challenge now is... I have the privilege to pursue creative projects but I always hold back so Iām not āexpensiveā whether that be in cost or time. It ties back to women not being āinconvenientā to others. Who knows where I picked up that story.