the weird way I'm using Substack to grow the hell up
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When I hit forty a couple years ago, the memes started coming in.
Ohhhhh, I started to think, slowly at first and then all at once.
OK, these are less memes than amazing WORKS OF ART, by a FAB artist I just bought two pieces from (not pictured!) Go get all her stuff (but the stuff there is only one of that I already covet) over at OLD MADE GOOD right here.
I’m me now, and I can embrace it.
And slowly, I’ve started to do that.
In small ways, of course, because I work a lot and have all these children and there are all these general life anxieties to tend to.
But I’m trying.
I take a ceramics class now, weekly, and I started reading novels instead of only the leadership and non-fiction books I’ve written a bunch of, and I started watching Survivor again, after a decade.
In sum, I started taking small steps to do things I liked already, yes, but also things I thought I might like, things that had a shot of hitting against some core part of me and saying, ah yes, here she is.
Not everything worked. The samba exercise class, for example, was a sensory overload nightmare that took six hours to calm down from, and anyway I was too frustrated by my inability to follow basic dance moves to embrace any semblance of the “beginner’s mind”.
There were other failed attempts.
I found facial massages simply not as good as regular ones and I put off committing to the somatic experiencing training so many times I began to think: maybe I don’t actually want to do somatic experience training right now?
But the important part was that I was using the muscle.
The trying, the testing, the occasional liking and continuing. And then I’d start all over again, with something else.
When I started using Substack a few months back, as a reader, mostly, but some of this relates to being a writer here as well, the part of me that wanted to use this muscle was able to hit against something good.
First and foremost, because it enabled me to embrace more of what I love.
On Substack, I Continue to Love What I Love
Some of the folks I follow here are people whose work, in the form of books, I’ve enjoyed for a long time. I think of the leadership lessons (and now candid solopreneurship thoughts) from
, say, or the essays on books and theology from , or the calls-to-action to live your best life (No Fucks Given!) with .There are more folks, many friends, where I’ve been on their great newsletters for a long time, and that subscription has transferred itself over to their Substacks.
See:
, curating short Friday lists of things that make me feel good, and , whose latest book - How to Walk Into a Room - was a stunner, and , who writes sharp, directed thoughts on better living, and , who give me all the books I must read about the best places in the world over at Strong Sense of Place.But the newsletters I read also allow me to expand my interests in a more dedicated way than before.
I Expand My Interests
I was listening to a podcast about reading this weekend, and the hosts made the point that, for many readers, the first step of a new hobby happens in the reading of it. It’s the same for identities, I’ve found, or aspects of ourselves we wish to grow: eating in a different way, or learning about a place you’ll one day plan a trip to travel to, or rethinking our personal style.
and A Tiny Apartment is a perfect example. I’m not from New York, I’ve never lived in New York, and Refinery 29 only (sadly) intersected with my own personal neurons a few times during the 15 years everyone else was loving it. Thus, finding her here, decades after everyone else was obsessed with her, has been a joy, and I love her take on style and its intersections with all the areas of our life — home, wardrobe, and thrifting as pleasure.(She has also turned me onto other folks, like
and , historians and curators, separately and respectively, of fine old stuff.)Other interests of mine have also started blossoming.
and The Department of Salad, for example, inspired me to start buying better lettuce, and now I’m making creative vegetable THINGS a handful of times a week. You might even call them salads!The same can be said of
, which has given me cooking inspiration, which is a big thing for someone who doesn’t cook.Then there’s gardening, which
has gotten me re-interested in of late, gardening being a I’ve tried, and then failed, and then tried again.But by reading these newsletters I’m just expanding an existing spark of an interest, I’m stretching into what can be a new piece of my identity.
I Try on New Identities
I have a small list on a bulletin board in my office of all the Substacks I’d like to pay for someday. The barrier to doing so is less about the cost of each one — the $5 or $6 of $7 a month — but rather about my bandwidth. I do not want to add and add without taking away, and paying for things I want to read without actually having the time to do so seems the height of unnecessary adding.
So I’m in a rotation game of sorts, trying new Substacks, seeing what fits, and sticking with some. And while I don’t relish the moment of unsubscribing from something I like but don’t like enough to keep paying for — with my money, yes, but also my attention — if this is an exercise in being a grown-up, it’s a pretty easy exercise.
That said, I’ve long wanted to make a list of some of the Substacks I want to start paying for, which is of course a stand-in for things and people I want to learn about, or be more like, or just wander around in.
Like some of these.
. If you’ve been here much, you’re probably wondering why I haven’t paid for this newsletter already. Feels like a lot of content? Take last week’s piece, which is a long, four-year-on recap of everything she’s learned since going full-time with her newsletter four years ago.And while I have a sense of what you, as readers, immediately gravitate towards — hilariously, it’s often just access to links and recommendations — I don’t feel beholden to replicate stories that have done well in the past. In other words: I’m not beholden to the Game of Thrones recap cycle that effectively addicts a publication to a certain sort of content. I can write about The Friendship Dip or Glen Powell or What Happened to People Magazine or anything else that grips my mind with confidence that I’ll still have a job the next week, and the week after that. You have made this sort of dynamic, curious work sustainable. The gratitude I feel is boundless. But so, too, is the relief: that I don’t have to dedicate so much of my brain to preparing for the other shoe to drop, for layoffs to arrive, for an entire publication to disappear.
Takeaway for me?
Ok who am I kidding, this is captivating and I must subscribe immediately.
: I’ve been really loving her stuff, and yes, I know she’s another one everyone is reading. What finance obsessed amateur anthropologist / busy-body (raises hand) wouldn’t want to read the Feed Me financial report, with such fascinating psychological takeaways as:Readers were happy to disclose large purchases (vacations, homes, shopping sprees, watches) that they love, but less able, whether due to Feed Me readers being perfect shoppers or just run-of-the-mill cognitive biases, to nail down a big purchase regret. It seemed like a common bit was disclosing a very expensive “worth it” purchase while the regret was like “a bad takeout salad :(“ - I’d like to talk to those people and see if they actually think of small purchases this way, or if it’s a method of adding humor to the taboo topic of big money buys.
Takeaway for me?
Another immediate upgrade is upcoming, I can feel…
: I keep being sent her stuff, and I keep clicking, and then clicking again. What overwhelmed Mama at the end of her kids’ winter vacation (Southern Hemisphere, yes) wouldn’t want to read, I Haven’t Had a Day Alone Since May? Or what sober-curious middle ager wouldn’t like to check out Why I’ve Stopped Drinking (Again)? Or what tiny-house voyeur wouldn’t like a perusal of I'm moving onto a narrowboat?
Takeaway?
Yes! Give me more!
: I have literally zero idea why I have not upgraded to this Substack, because there are few things I love more than discussing women and money. (See self-description above: What finance obsessed amateur anthropologist / busy-body (raises hand) wouldn’t want to read…”) The latest post at The Purse, Home Economics No. 10: A Tenured Professor Living Upstate on $94k a Year, is just one more reminder that I have zero idea what the hell I am doing with my life by not subscribing.
Takeaway?
As above, what the hell I am doing with my life by not subscribing!
: The Tortoise is a Substack about slow living that aims to answer the question: What does it look like to live slow in a world that won’t stop racing? Brooke is someone I’ve followed online for a long time, and I loved her book as well, and have read it twice. Recently, she posed this question to readers looking to find discernment amidst the noise:
How can I even tell which voice is mine?
When we lose touch with that sense of knowing, when it’s hard to discern between our own voice and those that are simply regurgitating the advice of others and society's expectations — how do we know which ones to turn down?
Takeaway?
Another ding to my wallet. Bring it on!
So, Now What?
In conclusion, I didn’t intend to write this post as some sort of love letter to an internet platform.
That never ages well, as I know.
(RIP Twitter, 2006-2011, and my award-winning book you should please never buy, Twitter for Good: Change the World, One Tweet at a Time)
But I guess I sort of ended up here, because I do find Substack the one internet place where all my favorite magazines come together, under my sticky fingertips, like it’s 1998 and it’s 4:09 PM, and I just got off the school bus and I’ve got the new Sassy magazine and a piping hot pizza pocket, and Oprah is nine minutes into talking low-fat cheese with Bob Barker in the background.
In sum, Substack, as a reader of content, I am feeling all the hearts.
Thanks for including The Purse on this list! (Also, I can so relate to the image of getting off the school bus and knowing there's a fresh Sassy at home! It was the best feeling in the whole world!)
Love this post. So many things I also experience as a creator and receiver on here. I have the luxury of spending about an hour per night reading, and try and read at least 3 pieces in full on a good day. I love the niching, the mastery, the care and the community that exists on Substack. It’s a pleasure to be here. Thank you for continued gift 🩷