The honeymoon phase is over; honest reflections 2 months into Substack

I gave it my all for 8 weeks straight, went from 0-550 readers and got utterly tired yet strangely motivated to keep going

Photo of me drawing on fabric in my first tiny rooftop studio in Paris. In the creative bliss of being a secret artist while officially a university student in Politics, Philosophy and Economics... Little did I know I’d never take “a normal” job and be hooked by creative entrepreneurship for life (yes, that is not an understatement. There’s no turning back…)

Disclaimer #1: This essay is too long for regular email. So if you read this in your inbox and want the full deal, you can check it out on the web here.

Disclaimer #2: This post is a direct result of the very core of what it means to Follow Your Gut. I had planned out a beautiful “8 things I learnt in 8 weeks” letter including screenshots, graphs, calculations - the whole cha-bang. But when I sat (or rather lay down in bed) to write it out, the words got stuck in a deep corner in my mind and my fingers completely blocked. I felt tired. Had I been trying to hard? What’s going on?

Until I realized: The honeymoon phase of entering a new platform is over. I ran on over-time for the past couple of weeks to be frank. Out of sheer “let’s make the most of this creative holiday”, type of energy.

It’s with sadness (and joy?!) that I welcome this next phase. It was expected. I waited for it. Welcome.

Now, finally, we can get to work on the core of what it means to be an artist: To show up for your dream, even when you don’t feel like it.

Let’s scrap the plan (I can always write a 9 things I learnt in 9 weeks next week instead should I so fancy), be open for change and whatever you do…. Keep writing from your heart (and gut). Here we go.

Who am I trying to fool?

My mind feels like a fried egg. Or, maybe more like the air just went out of a balloon and it now looks like a sad raisin on the floor.

The first two months on

Substack

(the platform I use to host this newsletter-blog) have been brilliant. I even blew my own mind with the amount of writing I’ve put out here. Like, who am I trying to fool?!

But it’s real. It’s true. I published 30 pieces excluding this one in 63 days. Actually, 31 writings, but I unpublished one and wrote a full responsive essay about it titled “I gave myself permission to unpublish”, which ironically is still, you guessed it, unpublished in the drafts folder along with a zillion other drafts.

Side-note: Thankfully, judging from a recent popular note I wrote, I’m not alone to have a brimming drafts folder. Then why am I not using any of the pre-written pieces today to make my life easier?

I guess I’m just not wired like that. I’m an intuitive (perhaps impulsive) writer. I need to feel it before I publish it. And today I just feel meh, which I perceive as my gut telling me that I need to write about that instead.

---

Should I have taken a chill-pill?

Today is the first time in 8 weeks that my mind feels utterly empty. My children are sleeping next to me, one of my daughters have fever so I’m naturally a bit worried. For 15 minutes I just kept staring at the blank draft page, stunned with my own mental silence.

There’s always so much going on up there that I tend to have a hard time shutting it up. Yet today, nada. Zero. Niente. Nothing.

At first it added to my stress:

“That’s it” I thought to myself. “That’s the end to my Substack adventure”,

Lenny Rachitsky

was right when he said that the biggest mistake new writers do is that they go out too hard on the field.

I know rationally I should’ve taken a chill pill. But I’m not rational. I’m intuitive.

Then I got reminded of something that

Remy Bazerque

wrote in his still-going-viral-honest-reflection-post of how he has reached the point in his life where he has enough confidence to know that there is an audience for his stuff, and that he has become old enough to not care about what others will say or think about how he finds that audience.

Ps. This also makes me think of the incredibly inspiring

Ben Woestenburg

, a 65 year old who declared in a powerful comment to my post about dreaming big that he has about 20-25 years to make his dream of being a successful fiction author come to fruition and that he’s committed to make it happen.

You just got to get on with the show and do what needs to be done. There’s clearly no one else who’ll do it for you.

In the midst of my empty-mindedness this felt like a warm reminder. An internal hug of sorts, which feels strange to say as I’ve never met Remy nor do I know if I will (though it would be pretty cool as we share quite a bit in common apart from raising trilingual children). Relative cynicism is one example.

If you read my last letter “Dare to dream big”, you know that I’m a dreamer. I’m also a believer in being vulnerable and grandiose with those dreams in order to increase their likelihood of becoming a reality.

Simultaneously, as a direct result of having lived off my art and having marketed it exclusively online for 7 years, I’ve developed (what I think) is a healthy level of cynicism.

Just because someone say they’ll do something, doesn’t mean they will. And it doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with you or your art whatsoever, so let whatever that is on them.

Cynicism is what saves me from flying too high into the clouds when I start a new exciting project (like this publication). Even though I’ve got “La tête en l’air”, as you could say in French (literally the head in the air) my feet are still rock solid on the ground.

I’ve been around long enough in the online art space that I, just like

Remy Bazerque

mentions too, know that the field is as loving as it is egocentric. As energy-giving as draining. I don’t expect Substack to be any different.

Though I recognise, after 2 months on here, that

Substack

as a platform is inherently warmer and more genuine/authentic than any other online marketplace I’ve ever experienced (considering there to be both readers and writers i.e. consumers and suppliers qualifying it as a marketplace) .

That said, I still feel as though I’m the new girl at school trying to figure out who the cool kids are. Or a little late to the party, where everyone already knows each other and I’m trying to find where I fit in. The latter was a feeling described by

Caroline Pankhurst

as well when we connected around Christmas for the first time and I don’t think we’re alone in having felt this.

It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. But it would also be naive to not recognise the required energy to engage, integrate and navigate a new social setting. You don’t want to step on someone else’s toes, while still be clear with your own boundaries and journey.

At the end of the day… We all just want to write, be read and gain a sense of belonging/community, right?

An example of an experience that has fuelled cynicism in the arts;

I ran a weekly podcast for 2 years (2018-2020), fighting all I could to breach the gap between artists. Build bridges. Be colleagues instead of competitors. For long I thought it worked, only to fall flat on my face at multiple instances.

Though not near the success of

Emma Gannon

’s ex-podcast, I reached a fair share with many tens of thousands of downloads (don’t remember if it even went up to 6-figures…) and near burnout for trying to schedule and plan it all (thankfully my husband was doing the editing or else it would’ve stopped way sooner ha!).

To everyone on here doing podcast shows too - I see you. I feel you. I’ve been there.

It’s hard work. It’s mostly rewarding but it can also be draining, which is part of the duality of creative giving. Trying to fix a system that maybe doesn’t want to be fixed (read: artist’s egos).

Does it mean it’s hopeless to try and build these bridges? No. Not at all.

I think

Substack

, is a terrific example of creative enthusiasts (readers and writers) getting together in an attempt to forge deeper conversation and connection in a less diluted way than on mainstream social media.

Claire Venus

especially, is a loving example of working her butt off to make it happen (I see you).

But when you invest so much of yourself into something you also risk to fall harder. Maybe I’ve fallen too much, which is why I’m more weary of my whereabouts now?

Thankfully this is where the “dreamer-side” of the paradox creative reality takes over: It doesn’t matter how many times I fall, I’ll still get back up.

I just read “How do I keep going” by

Lisa Olivera

and it touched me deeply. Because I resonate with it so much. I’ve asked myself the same question an infinite amount of times and the conclusion is always the same:

Even when you think you can’t, you will.

And when we treat our creativity and art the same way, there’s no turning back.

You got to keep the show running and do the things that got to be done.

---

How does this relate to my first 2 months as a writer on Substack?

I jumped in, over-the-moon-excited to have found a slow paced social media platform.

Trigger warning: Don’t feel appalled at what I just wrote about Substack being a social media. Keep in mind that I entered in the post-notes era (Notes is the social integration of Substack as a newsletter-blog platform), which means that I’ve only known Substack in its current glory.

To me, it’s a social media. Not in the stigmatized notion of mainstream social media. Rather in a literal sense, as a media platform fuelled by social interaction and connection, where good writing gets premiered thanks to a voting system of sorts. Every time you “re-stack” someone’s writing, share it with your network, make a comment or like, you’re essentially “casting your vote” on that writer to say that they deserve more attention.

Isn’t this what a social media is supposed to do before it got intoxicated with algorithmic, money-thirsty and censorship-prone leadership?

I read earlier about how

Jenna Nicole Stevens

wrongfully got her Instagram account closed, which meant 1.5 years worth of effort to promote her poetry, gone. In the blink of an eye. Gone, just like that. Creative soul-breaking!

Is it even possible to operate creatively under such premises of uncertainty?

Supported by

Zan Tafakari

in a comment earlier, I now believe to write on Substack is a sort of rebellion against the concept of social media. It’s the same as casting a vote on user-owned social media, where the writers own both the freedom to publish when, where and what, as well as their audience in the form of email addresses that can be migrated to any platform should you wish to change one day.

There’s no one who can “accidentally” block your account unless you’ve legitimately gone against the community rules (which is just basic common sense for a functioning social setting regardless of it being on- or offline).

I’ve come to terms with, after 2 solid months, that I am better off relating to Substack as a social media. It allows me to build healthier boundaries for myself and the way I interact with it (the platform).

---

The juicy stuff that you probably came here for (some stats):

I will not make a big fuss about stats in this piece, there may come another one for that (most likely as this stuff excites me).

But I don’t want to let you hanging without anything now that you’ve made it this far. So here we go;

Out of the 30 (31) published articles, when split out on the total number of readers that I have amounted to as of writing this (560), I got about 18 new readers per article.

This is a very rough estimate and somewhat misleading as it doesn’t take into account the efforts I’ve made on Notes (How can you even track the direct results of Notes more than an estimated approximation…? I’m yet to figure this one out!).

Notes is clearly working, despite having exact figures, I can notice an increase in sign-ups after days I’ve been more active in relation to down-days. But that’s about as accurate as that goes for me.

It may be an unpopular opinion, but I love to check the stats. Numbers are soothing to me as they show concrete results of my otherwise abstract creative impulses.

Thanks to being able to see the sign-up conversion on each article, I can see that my writing has an effect and impact (assuming that only those who get value from what I write sign up).

For example, my hero post continues to ramp up new readers (now at 77+ compared to 56 as seen in my last update 5 days ago… and this is excluding its ripple effect). The clear statical evidence is just one of the added perks of having it as a pinned post as opposed to only under the “about” tab when read on the web-page.

screenshot of the growth curve of my hero post (the article pinned at the top of my profile)

Why do I feel it important to highlight the sign-up ratio per article (including the misleading factors)?

Because I notice how success stories of relatively quick growth can easily tickle unwanted jealousy. I don’t want that. I think I’m growing quick (quicker than anticipated considering that I started from zero just two months ago and haven’t utilized other marketing methods as of yet). Rather, it shows that my growth is a direct result of my prolific writing. I just write a lot. Even with an empty mind… (This very article is becoming a bit of a paradox irony).

I’ve published more frequently than the average publication. I deliberately chose to not limit myself to one or two essays per week before finding my ground on this platform.

The results tell me I’m doing something right to not be stingy with the publish button and to write my heart out, so that’s what I’ll continue to do (this reflective spontaneous article is a direct example of this).

I’m sure some of the un-subscribers I’ve had through the past weeks have thought it was too much, but I’m completely OK with that. After all, my cynicism saves me - I know that I’m not that important and that most people care mostly about themselves.

Also, I much rather focus on you lovely beings who are HERE right now reading this. Thank YOU from the bottom of my heart.

---

To conclude: What just happened in this reflective essay?

The honeymoon phase is over. When I started typing this post, I had no idea where it would lead me. But I stay committed to my craft even in its imperfections.

This article is a real-time example of how the journey can look like. When you open your draft, you’re about to start typing and nothing comes out. You stumble. You crumble.

This is the moment when we drop our guard and need to lean in on something deeper: Your intuition. Your gut.

Start describing what is happening to you. Observe your internal turmoil as well as the external circumstance. Ones you’ve added a word there comes another and before you know it you’re starting to build momentum.

It may not be the most perfect of pieces, but know it matters.

You need to get through your first 30 letters to get to the 31st. You need to get through your first manuscript to get to your first published book and perhaps a second.

Imagine how crazy if we were able to time-travel to your 10th publication?

Actually… how dull that would be! You’d miss out on all the anticipation of growing something from the ground up. The creative energy of working your art.

Though I know… It feels really hard when you’re still at the beginning (heeeey, I’m here too, in the trenches with you!). Let this letter be a gentle reminder to us all to not give up on our vision even when the honeymoon phase is over.

---

Before ending for real (sorry, this became a lot longer than I could’ve ever anticipated) I just want to leave you with one last encouragement that your writing probably matter more than you realise (because most people are silent readers and won’t tell you how much it matters).

Have faith it will all be worth it

As I felt my energy fade away, the universe sent me reminders these last few days to keep going. That my writing already has an impact, which is all I set out to do.

Jenna Nicole Stevens

wrote in her most recent post “Promoting your art without losing your authenticity”

This post was all scheduled and ready to go for at least a couple weeks, but I read something yesterday that I knew straight away resonated and I needed to share it in this post.

It was a letter by Elin Petronella on the power of dreaming big. “It’s the small incremental effort that creates the compounding effect. There will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Until one day, I will arrive.”

This hit me… I had been feeling so bogged down recently about not feeling seen, and this made me realise that a lot of the magic involved with growing an account and a following goes on behind the scenes. I just need to be patient, believe in what I have to share and offer the world, and most importantly, keep dreaming big.

Thank you Jenna! You made me push through.

And

Tamsin Chennell

who published yesterday morning saying that she doesn’t have the energy to do masses of research nor scour the web for sources of people she agrees with and thus, will rarely link to anything… YET she still made the effort to link to my work “Writing is healing”, which touched me deeply. Here is her full post about it “Reading, Writing and Who I am”.

There were also multiple incredible hero posts and related pieces that got published this weekend in response to my encouragement in “7 things I intentionally did in my hero post”.

Mika

for example, did a terrific job highlighting what a hero post is.

Glenn Bryant

made his hero post a very gripping read (check it out here)

Caroline

says in hers:

I’ve put together this piece, with the wonderful direction of Elin Petronella, to pin to the top of my profile.

start here

Allison Deraney

did it too - and what an amazing job! I’m blown away.

Last but not least

Caroline Pankhurst

took courage and published hers as well:

An extra thank you to all of you who’ve linked to my work these last couple of days. I truly appreciate you (and everyone who's reading!)

Much love,

Elin x

Hi there, new here?

I’m Elin, Swedish (expat) artist and mother of two who have plunged into the unknown of Substack as a new writing home. Despite having 500k+ across mainstream social media platforms for my embroidery art, I decided to start afresh here. It’s hard, thrilling, heavy and joyful all in ones. Come and join me for the ride if you haven’t done so already!

You can also check out the how, why, who and what in the post below:

Follow Your Gut & Start here