The State of the Nest Address

Or: Four Years of My Letter. Some Thoughts.

Why Write This Post?

I have recently seen several conversations on Notes, discussing the phenomenon of Substack journey posts—various people sharing how they achieved x number of subscribers in y months. These are a mixed bunch—some are those who came to Substack with an already built-in following, perhaps from traditional media, or Instagram, for example, others have achieved more organic, Substack-based growth.

One thing is for sure—many of those conversations I’ve read often feature readers (who are always also Substack writers) who are jaded by these journeys, irritated by their presence, finding many seemingly unfair, the deck firmly stacked in the favour of those with that inbuilt audience.

And this brings me to my first point, and one which I have seen echoed elsewhere, one which really sums up the whole process of starting a newsletter (henceforth letter, I just prefer that, it sounds friendlier and more personal): everyone’s journey is different.

Of course you can read these forms of posts, or those with all the ‘how to’ tips and hints, you can absorb the detail and apply it to your own letter BUT the journey will still be yours, and yours alone.

I will go into more detail below, of my own journey to this point—139 letters and four years later—the growth, the shrinkage, some statistics and some possible explanations for what I can see, where I go next, and THOUGHTS ON SUBSTACK in general but, if you don’t want to read on, I will repeat that very, very brief, one line version of this whole behemoth of a post:

Everyone’s journey is different.

We all bring different things, different life experiences to Substack, as we do in life. Let’s keep celebrating this diversity, and let’s keep celebrating each other.

Free Books

Before we get to that neat list, and then the main course, below, I will use this opportunity to tell you that, this month, I am taking part in a group promotion giveaway, over at Bookcave. My novelette, Dust and Death, is a part of this, along with many other science fiction and fantasy novels, novellas, and stories, all shared for free, in exchange for signing up to their respective author’s mailing list.

If you like free books, do have a look. I have not been a part of as many of these promotions lately, and I will return to discuss how I think they have altered my readership here, now. One big reason I took part in this one was that I wanted to study the data, see if people coming from Bookcave actually stay subscribed and, if they do, ever open my emails or look at my posts. Most seem to unsubscribe immediately once they have collected the free book, so I will keep an eye on this.

The Detail—Some History: 2019-2022

On November the 25th, 2019, back in those halcyon pre-Covid days, I sent out my first proper letter—the opening paragraph of which is in the Note linked above—to seventeen people. These were all family or friends (and also, I think, three addresses of my own…). By the time I sent out the second one, the day after Christmas, I was on a different continent and my readership had risen to twenty-two people.

I had opened my Substack account the previous December, cross-posting a blog piece in July, knowing I wanted to find a way to keep in touch with those I knew, or those I met, as Aurélie (I’m now her husband) and I prepared to move from Thailand to Portugal. I was using social media less and less, so this seemed a wise move. I also knew I would be self-publishing some stories early in 2020, and wanted a place to gather readers, let them know where I was in the world, and how my other stories in the same series were progressing.

As I published my fiction, en route, quite literally (in a camper van), to Portugal, I began to sign up for various group promotions and giveaways, such as the one mentioned above, using StoryOrigin, Bookcave or elsewhere. My readership and email list certainly grew with each although, as I also mentioned above, I remain unconvinced that this is a great way to build a highly engaged and interested readership. Some of you reading this certainly came from those places, and some of you have sent several messages, commented on posts and generally made me very happy I did take part in the promos but, on the whole, this is not the most engaged percentage of my audience.

Before I continue, here is the graph of my Substack subscriber journey. This seems to be a must-have in the world of these posts and you’ll immediately see how mine varies from any other I have ever seen.

That big more-or-less entirely flat line from April 2021 to December 2022? Long story short, I stopped using Substack for my letter. I exported all my data—something Substack make very easy to do—and took my list elsewhere. I didn’t close my account here, instead signposting to anyone stumbling across my letter where to find me. Then, in December 2022, I did the opposite, importing my data—again, something Substack make very easy to do—and I am glad I did.

During that time, although I took part in a few group promotions, they were not as intensive as the preceding year. The majority of my new sign-ups still came from these giveaways, but they also came from social media, especially twitter. Growth was slow and steady.

Another look at the graph shows you how, at times, growth stagnated, flat-lining, sometimes even dropping backwards. Over the first six months after I returned to Substack, I actually lost subscriber numbers (but also gained new, more engaged subscribers—a crucial counterpoint I will discuss below).

One other thing you’ll notice is that I really didn’t see the ‘Notes effect’ so many other people have mentioned. I was active there, and immediately loved it, but I didn’t see a sudden and steep rise in people signing up.

So what happened in the summer of this year, 2023, when my growth began to rise again?

This happened, for one thing. The beauty of the Alps.

The Detail—Some History: Summer 2023

Prior to the summer of this year, 2023, all my posts followed a similar format. They were still designed to be read by either family, friends, or those who had signed up due to my fiction work. They were not letters designed to fit in with the Substack ecosystem. They rambled, they were usually huge (ahem, don’t look at this post as a presently ‘normal’ example of my work!), and they often mixed all manner of things—essays sitting next to what I had read that month, snippets of nature writing and observation alongside personal news or, horror of horrors, ‘musings’. I can feel

Sarah Fay

of Writers at Work cringing and shaking her head from here.

The letters I shared were not going to help me find an audience.

After the arrival of Notes, I felt like the technology—that ecosystem I mentioned—had finally, finally caught up with the dream; the vision and hope I have had of creative people being able to be rewarded for their work without having to sell out via adverts or affiliate schemes they might not necessarily believe in or agree with. No sponsored posts necessary.

At this point, I sat down and did a lot of thinking, tried to work out what I wanted to share, plot and plan my journey from that point in far greater detail than ever before.

I’ve been writing on the internet since BEFORE it was the World Wide Web and this was the point I felt that, finally, there was hope, real opportunity to make money from online words I knew others would enjoy reading, without somehow selling out.

I knew I would have to try harder, much harder, but I was thrilled that I had the chance to do so, to make my words count.

Some people will tell you that letters, newsletters, should always be free—writing should be shared without expectation of payment. Others will be the polar opposite, deeming all writing work and, as such, in need of a financial reward. I sit between these two as, I expect, do many of you.

With the arrival of Notes, I knew that marketing my letter would not only be a lot simpler, but also a lot more fun than heading to the socials and having to spend time in places I found grim, at best, for little to no results. I’m not great at marketing, but I am, after years and years, word after word, now happy to say that I am a very good writer. (And it took me a long time to be able to say that and believe it.)

The key point here is that, by using Notes, I believe that when you write and share an excellent post on your Substack letter, then the readers will eventually (often organically) find their way to you and, crucially, they will also tell others.

Which leads to the next graph. This is the ninety day view. That steep and sudden rise to the left? That is where I discovered Only One Death had been the book of the week on Bookcave, shared with all their email list—tens and tens of thousands of people—and it brought in forty-five new subscribers.

Minus from the current, ongoing, group promotion mentioned earlier and those forty-five (BONUS STATS: the ongoing promo has brought in twenty-two people, of whom twelve remain, seven of whom have opened an email or looked at a post.), you can see that my growth over this period is over 200 new subscribers.

Which amounts to a healthy percentage of the sum total of my readers.

Why? What has happened within this time frame?

I think it is more than one thing but the main one is simple—I posted high quality pieces, often, and consistently.

Since June, after I had my big think and refocus, I began to share serialised fiction here on Substack. This was, as they say, a no-brainer—I already have several novels and novellas and stories I could draw on, lightly edit to make them fit a serialised format, and then send out, one chapter or episode a week, every Friday.

I have brought in subscribers via my fiction through word of mouth, especially on Notes, but also through the wonderful work of

S.E. Reid

of Talebones, who shares a weekly fiction news letter (amongst many other things, including her own stories) and

Erica Drayton

of Erica Drayton Writes, who has spent considerable time and effort creating a master list of current fiction on Substack (again, along with many other things, including stories!).

At present, my fiction here is all free whilst the story is being shared weekly then, after, it will be paywalled (with the exception of the first novella in the series, Only One Death, which will remain free to all). More on this below.

There is certainly work to be done on the Fiction ecosystem here on Substack. This is something mentioned by

Chris Best

, co-founder and CEO of Substack, recently:

I am quietly confident that, when I return to do a (hopefully much shorter!) ‘Five Years of this Letter’ post, I will find fiction in a much healthier, intuitive state, with readers able to quickly find exactly the sort of work they seek.

Also at the end of June, I began to share my Ancestral, Wild Empowerment series. This will be delivered in seasons and revolves around how we can use hunter-fisher-gatherer ancestral skills and knowledge of nature in order to bring a deep sense of empowerment and calm in today’s modern, busy world and, through these skills and this knowledge, help return a balance to the nature we have disrupted. It is a guide and discussion both.

This series is mostly paywalled, albeit with a healthy chunk of each letter available as a preview (I long for the day when non-paid subscribers can comment on these), with a few posts per season available entirely for free.

Late in August, I began my midweek series, Edges and Entries, which seeks to link my fiction and my non-fiction. It is free, although I shall be archiving and paywalling older posts soon. Each letter has a brief (by my standards) discussion, often revolving around liminality, those places between, where boundaries blur, the edgelands, as it were—especially, currently, doors. There is also a photograph (at the moment from my rather extensive collection of door pictures) and then a short piece of fiction. I even wrote a haiku at one point.

These three parts of my letter will continue, they will be the weekly constants (aside from during the inter-season break, or when I let people know I will be taking a week or two off).

On top of this, the final part of my current Substack offering (occasional, other free letters aside) is the one which is presently chewing hearty bites of my time out of every day. Back in September, thanks to a comment from

M. E. Rothwell

of Cosmographia and The Books That Made Us fame, I decided to attempt to use Notes for something entirely different, something I had not seen done here—a day by day account of a real life adventure I had, back in 2010.

In short, I left behind my job and the city I had lived in for almost a decade, caught train after train and then walked out into the woods, where I lived, alone, for months, from late summer to early winter.

In this series, A Fall in Time, I share photographs from each day, if I took any, some days I did not, some days I share dozens, along with journal entries and discussion. I talk not only of practical considerations but, increasingly as the weeks went on, deeper thoughts, about myself, about nature, and about our world. Needless to say, this adventure changed me, considerably.

Every week, I also send out a complied list of these Notes embedded into a letter. This experiment has not been a complete success, in that I know several people who enjoy them don’t always see them pop up in their Notes feed—so the compilation letter is crucial, also giving those who subscribe, but don’t use Notes a chance to read. These letters also give me a space to add some snippets of extra material—videos, for example.

This adventure is getting closer to its end and, although I am very happy to have shared it here, I will be glad of the extra time I will win back!

Each of these offerings—fiction, nature-based non-fiction, a mixture of the two, and the day-to-day account of that adventure has brought in subscribers. And, crucially, each is a SECTION of my Substack.

(If you want to know more about my work, and me, read my ‘Start Here’ guide, something I recommend everyone adds to their own publication, it is well worth the time and effort.)

I say crucially with regard to the sections because if someone only wants the stories, or is only interested in the ancestral skills, then they can unsubscribe from the other letters with relative ease. I believe this is important if you are going to offer more than one type of thing in your letters, and removes the necessity for a completely separate letter.

Having sections also makes sense to me, as I want readers to see all the different threads which make up my weave—my fiction is heavily influenced by my relationship with nature, for example.

Notes on Growth and “How To Substack”…

(CAVEAT: don’t forget the line from earlier: all our journeys are different)

Even with all the growth over the last few months, what I find interesting, especially when we zoom in to the last thirty days, is seeing when people unsubscribe and others join. For my publication, this often create a scalloped effect, with a noticeable dip and loss of readers, then a steeper climb once more, before another dip.

I have worked out that the dip happens over the days I am posting my letters, especially after the last three working days of the week, when three such letters are (currently) sent out.

I suspect those who leave do so due to the influx of letters in their inbox and, conversely, those very same posts are then shared and passed along by other readers, and draw in new subscribers a few days later. I find this scalloping interesting and wonder whether those leaving are mostly people who arrived further away in the past, via group promotions. I’ve certainly noticed that nearly all the new arrivals are coming from Substack, whether the app or the site. They are arriving, they are commenting, and they are staying—and this is wonderful, vibrant, and essential.

Ever since I started this letter, I have looked at the email addresses of those who subscribe. Not to sit and count them as a dragon hoarding gold, but to look and wonder, try to work out the stories of these readers. What brings them to my email list? Where do they come from? I want to get to the people behind the email. These are the people I write for and taking the time to do this brings me joy, making the process all the more real—after all, our letters need readers and it is always much better to write to a friend. There are real people behind those numbers. This, to me, is the magic of Substack—connections. (I was pleased to see the aforementioned Sarah Fay mention something similar to this recently.)

Personally, the community (one, rather than different communities, I prefer to bring people together, whether they are my fiction readers or just want to know how to build a natural shelter) here on Substack has now replaced all those other social, online locations I used to frequent. I maintain a presence here and there, posting very, very infrequently on some (mostly to send people here), but this is my home on the internet and, as such, I need to treat it like a home—with attention, care, love, and respect. Increasingly, I am seeing similar with others.

Here, we do not have to fight against a platform which seeks to keep us scrolling. Here, words (and, increasingly, images and audio) are celebrated. Crucially, we can also make a choice to either celebrate the essay itself, or to go deeper and comment, or share, or discuss. We can add distinct layers of community, whether through the Chat and Threads functions, or by ensuring we comment on the work of others, and reply to those who comment on our own work. I am finding a healthy and varied core of really interesting and interested people here, people who remind me of those early halcyon days of the internet, bringing us together in the right ways, rather than shattering into factions.

One thing I will be soon be implementing with far more care is the curation of my own recommendations—sharing the letters of others and recommending them with some details of why. I already recommend people, but I know I need to give this more thought and time—there are some remarkable letters here. It brings me so much joy when someone takes the time and effort to recommend The Crow’s Nest, or leave a Paid Subscriber Note (what an excellent feature), such as this one, by the incredibly talented and generous

Susannah Fisher

of Cricklewood:

There are tools on the Substack dashboard which can also help with the process of getting behind the email address, try and work out the why behind a subscription. One of my favourite examples is the map (I’m biased, add a map to anything and I’m far more likely to be engaged. I even paint and design my own, after all).

Obviously the fact I write in English will mean my audience predominantly comes from certain places, but it is a thrill when I see a new country filled in (conversely, I was sad to recently lose my sole Russian subscriber, as that individual added a lot of colour to this map!). Substack can definitely be better at this—promoting writers from other parts of the world but, I suspect, that will come in time The fact the search function can now be narrowed down by language is an excellent indicator they are taking this seriously. Word is spreading—and spreading in other languages now, too. (Aurélie—who is French—was recently at a birthday event and discussed Substack there. Tellingly, no one had heard of it, yet they were certainly interested in what the platform offers. Word of mouth like this is a big deal, it spreads things in an organic and timeless fashion.)

I find it worthwhile looking at other data available for us to peruse, such as the open rates of emails, or where people are reading or discovering your work. My own open rate has increased from 20% earlier this year (which is low, likely due to the group promotions I initially used to grow my list, as mentioned earlier), to 25.83% at the time of writing. I am glad that the quality of my subscribers is increasing. Very glad, indeed.

Evolution and Those Who Are Jaded

This year, Substack has evolved into something more complete, more hopeful, and more in keeping with the idea of creatives actually being able to earn money for their work. It continues to evolve too. On Notes, I have had and seen many rewarding chats with the team behind Substack and, each time, I am left with a sense of their own enthusiasm for this place. I do wish there were a better way to save notes—or that I was better at remembering to do so, I often forget. There was one Notes exchange—about search function technology finally arriving at the point where it should be able to solve all those thorny problems of visibility, of discovery, of who is actually writing what—that I had with Mills Baker which really let me really sense that enthusiasm, breathe it deeply and believe in it.

Things take time to be implemented but, when the Head of Design at Substack is genuinely this excited about something, you’d be foolish not to believe that many more good things lie around the corner. This enthusiasm is infectious—when someone who works on a thing believes in it, believes it is good and will only get better, then it raises us all, it encourages us when feedback is listened to, it pushes us to greater heights.

I may have lost the Note I wanted to share, but here’s another more recent example, in relation to the comments on posts, in which you can really feel the enthusiasm:

There is a fortuitous meeting of moments in time for Substack—I think the slow and agonising death of certain other platforms has driven people elsewhere, tired, seeking a sanctuary. I also think the endless stream of bland ‘content’ is another key point—well written (or spoken, or photographed) pieces, whether fiction or non-fiction, are what we as a species needs, not clickbait and SEOtastic posts designed to bring in traffic, rather than humans.

This leads to another point—posts which are critical of the direction Substack (may or may not) be going. Some writers didn’t like Notes, some didn’t like how it became the homepage, or thought it was encouraging exactly the sort of short-form content we came to Substack to avoid. There are other gripes, changes in the User Interface, for example, or conspiratorial algorithm alchemy, nefariously designed to promote a certain section of an elite group of writers who make Substack all their dollars.

On a similar note, I do not believe there are many true overnight successes on Substack of the type so often decried. Those who grow their letter quickly, even if it is on the back of importing a big email list, or pulling followers from other places, nearly always do so after lots and lots of hard work in those other places. To criticise this is to belittle that (often agonising) work. Of course, some people become famous or popular based on the work of others (their parents, for example), but that is nothing new.

We are jaded and worn down by tech company after tech company coming out with a product which promises much, right up until it sells out in some manner or form. We have been conditioned by the likes of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Reddit or others.

Yet, to me, the very fact Substack is a subscription-based income model sets it apart from all those other spaces. I came to Substack (opening my account in 2018, remember, so I’ve got a lot of experience of reading and following developments on this platform) with no intention whatsoever of monetising my letter. I wanted to use it to share things with friends and family, then to give out news and offers related to my fiction.

As I said earlier, the arrival of Notes meant that, for me personally, at least, the Substack ecosystem became not only a very real possibility to make money from my work—from my words—but also to truly place the creative at the very heart of a platform—not the advertiser or investor.

There will always be naysayers. That is just human and, once bitten, twice shy, multiplied n degrees. I look at some of those posts and wonder whether their writers are actually on the same platform as me. Am I just lucky, in who I see on my feed, in the incredible letters I have found and followed? No, I am not—I sought out like-minded writers who, in turn, introduced me to others, others who then introduced readers to me, and so on. This cycle continues and is, as I said, at the heart of what makes Substack a good place to be—community.

But then, many of us are also jaded about our online communities—yet that is not the fault of this place. It is just how life on the internet has conditioned us. Why bother making friends, when we might well lose them (twitter—and fellow former twitter users—I’m especially looking at you here)? This argument is not really valid, in that it can be extended into real life, in-person relationships too—why make friends, when they will one day move away, abandon you, or die? If you don’t know the answer to this, then there is little I can do to help you.

We are a social creature, we need others—this is something I have discussed before, in relation to the idea of the ‘lone wolf’ survivalist, believing they can outlast everyone out in the woods. They can’t and they won’t—we need people, we need community (and, don’t forget, this comes from someone who—at more than one time in his life—has spent weeks and weeks alone in the woods, away from other humans).

The Thorny Issue of Payment

I really believe that that magic power of positivity helps. Have a look at this post from the oh-so-encouraging

Feasts and Fables

.

Free Encouragement

This list, this manifesto, is the perfect embodiment of what I too wish to achieve here on Substack—and in my life in general. I could not have crafted this list any better—it really does fit with my ethos so deeply. And, here’s the interesting thing, especially for me—this list doesn’t mean you have to give away your words for free.

I am, as I mentioned on Notes recently, to

Keeley Rees

and

Sara Tasker - Me & Orla

, a rather shit capitalist. I cringe when I have to sell something but, here in this space, this feeling is not as entrenched. I feel like the words I am providing are worth a financial exchange—especially since I give away so much, too.

Speaking of Sara Tasker, I am fairly sure I got the following heavily-paraphrased quote (now mangled by my aforementioned habit of forgetting to note down where I see and hear things—sorry!) from her Instagram, some time ago:

“I don’t want to be a dirty capitalist”

“Then be a clean capitalist.”

And this, to me, fits Substack like the proverbial glove.

Here, we can grow, be positive, helpful, and kind—and do so whilst making money. Of course there will be those who do not believe this will ever be possible. They’ll look at the statistics of others and, again, despair that they will never replicate them. Which leads back to the line I keep sharing—we should not seek to replicate, just to be ourselves and do our thing, walk our path.

Personally, I turned on an option for paid subscribers back in June this year (2023), before I had entirely worked out the direction I wanted to take this space. At the time of writing, I have eight paid subscribers, five of whom arrived in the last two months. This is wonderful and I am thrilled that people are willing and able to pay for my work.

I will be bringing a lot more value to paid subscriptions in the new year, looking at paid subscriber only chats, for example, along with downloadables, both for AWE and also for my fiction. When the current novella I am serialising, Death and Taxes, ends, it shall be paywalled, along with the previous one, Dust and Death. Both will then also be made available as .epub files for paid subscribers to download and read. Going forward, each new serial will also be available as an immediate downloadable file for paying subscribers—so they don’t have to wait for weeks to find out how the story goes, should they so choose.

I would love to have more paid subscribers, I am not one of those people who believes my work should just be given away—I think this is unfair on those who pour their heart and soul into their words and it reduces the value of all creative work. I have noticed that there is a real difference between the attitude of those in the UK (and the US) and in other parts of the world, where the writer is valued in a different fashion. I suspect that, ultimately, this comes down to what is considered valuable work to a society. Answer, ‘What do you do? With ‘I’m a writer/author/artist’ and you get very different reactions depending on geography.

How do I get more paying subscribers? I do look at some of the ideas shared, designed to streamline and strategise your Substack, but not that often. Instead, I follow the simple tenet of sticking to a schedule as best I can and, ultimately, providing real value through my work. I truly believe that the more I share, the more people will deem my words (and photography?) worth a cash exchange.

On which note, if you follow this link, there is a special offer ‘Four Years of My Letter’ available to those who sign up for an annual plan before Christmas Day (one month after my personal Substack posting anniversary—I like that!). You will get a 20% discount on annual plans, which are already set at the lowest amount Substack will allow. In the new year, I will be raising my subscription price, so take advantage now, if you can. Oh—and this is a lifetime offer, not just for a year.

Conclusion of a Sort

When I began this letter, it was for friends and family and also, in a way, for myself. I wanted to record details of my life, the places I was visiting, the things I was thinking. In a sense, it was a journal.

I was living in a different nation, a different continent, and was about to move to somewhere I’d never even visited. That first year of the letter was strange, living in Portugal with Aurélie, unable to make friends or go very far at all, thanks to Covid. I recorded this and our subsequent move to France, the arrival of our daughter, our marriage, and our moving to our current house in the French Alps. I am grateful for those of you who have read since then and also grateful you have stayed as I’ve changed and refined the trajectory of this letter.

And I think this is the key takeaway from four years of surprisingly consistent publishing. Change is important, it heralds growth. Without change we stagnate, and that rarely leads to innovation or remarkable art.

I believe it is better to fine tune your own work, to examine the bigger, longer and often winding path ahead, and plot a route forward—by all means look to others on this journey, but don’t try and follow their footsteps perfectly. We all have a different gait, a different stride length. To dwell on what you see others achieve is only to halt your own progress. Let any bitterness go and flourish.

It is natural to look at the work of others and compare—the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, after all—but too much harms no one but yourself. This is exactly the same with health and fitness—to compare your progress to others does nothing but hinder, compare you to you.

Please remember that I am saying this from a place where I have at times seen my own growth rate slow and even begin to drop. I am saying this after four years of writing and sharing my words in a letter (admittedly musing- and epic email-full letters).

Ultimately, I believe that to succeed on Substack boils down to very simple things:

• You need something to tell, and you need to tell it as only you can.

• Anything else is selling yourself short—do not emulate or ape, but be you.

• Try and ensure you proofread and edit as best you can in the time you have (not always easy, I know).

• Find an engaging subject (or subjects) and stick to that (or them), at least 80% of the time.

• Write in your own voice. If you can’t, find your voice.

• Use your subscription data (and the people behind those email addresses) to drive you. If your list grows, that is wonderful, it is a validation of your effort and work. If it stagnates or shrinks, that is also a good thing—focus on the positive, remember—it means you can look at what might not be working and tweak your formula, make your work even better.

• Expect everything you do on Substack to take MUCH MUCH longer than you think it will.

• Talk to people, on Notes, by replying to comments, by reading and commenting on the work of other writers you admire and pieces you enjoy, or which stimulate.

• Don’t EVER take ANY advice blindly, but question everything, work out if it fits for you and your path.

Stick to these things and you are less likely to become irritated and disillusioned but, also, don’t forget that it is human to need a break, to rethink, to approach your work afresh. I believe I will get there, wherever ‘there’ is—something you should certainly write down, and quantify—and I am sure you can too.

Thanks for reading, I know this is an epic, long post, but I thought it was a good opportunity to share some of the thoughts I’ve had on the above topics, alongside an example of a different sort of growth to that you might already have read about. I think I have succeeded in these things and I hope you found something interesting and useful here.

Don’t forget that offer:

or sign up for my letters, if you haven’t already:

Like, comment, or restack on Notes, or share elsewhere:

Or leave a comment (I try and respond to every reply and comment.). I’ll be very interested to hear your thoughts on the above and your own Substack journey.

Thanks again! Hopefully, I won’t be sharing a letter this long for some time…