In recovery meetings, we talk a lot about the murky middle of sober living. If you are on this journey with me, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. Sober living isn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Sober life still gets lifey, and without an escape hatch it can sometimes feel even harder than our drinking struggles, or at least how our limiting views remember them.
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We hop on our social media though and see other peoples’ sunrises and joyful children. We see parties, conventions, and retreats with women donning bright sober eyes smiling blissfully at the camera. These “after” pictures help remind us what this is all for. But behind the camera, we may still go home and argue with our partners — sometimes even ABOUT our sobriety. We will still struggle with parenting, finances or our careers. Sobriety fixes some things but nothing fixes everything. The refrain that comes to mind is “I had 99 problems and sobriety solved like 10 of them.” That’s 89 problems still demanding our attention, and with no trick doors to swoop us into temporary comatose for a couple hours.
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I’ve been running this Substack for over two years now. For two years, like clockwork, readers got a little ding in their notifications at 9 a.m. Pacific that my post was live. It’s been fun, and challenging, and ever-changing. Two years ago, Substack was fairly new. Holly Whitaker was the only other sober writer on the platform (that I’m aware of) and female writing powerhouses like Liz Gilbert and Margaret Atwood hadn’t yet emerged on the site.
Substack’s platform was incredible, sending readers my way and helping me grow right from the start. I would gander that at one point 50% of my incoming subscribers were within or through Substack alone. Substack was pushing its writers hard, and for a moment there it felt like anything could happen. I had dreams of leaving social media, and making Substack my full-time job.
Hahahahahaha.
Sadly, things change and Substack is no exception. Substack has exploded in the two years since I’ve been here, including in the recovery space. Now I’m not only competing for paid/free subscribers among not just the best recovery writers but the best writers, period. The platform is no longer considered new, and while I don’t know if they are still pushing writers through their self-described “built in network,” it’s clear they stopped pushing mine.
I thought I was a good writer but my Substack averages about -15 subscribers per week. And while it’s hard not to take that deeply personal, actually… nevermind. I don’t have a positive spin to complete that sentence.
I hope this doesn’t read like I’m blaming Substack or other writers for my struggles. I’m not, and I’m genuinely grateful other writers are finding great success on this platform. I, too, benefit from their hard work as a reader and I love sharing Substack posts from fellow recovery writers during Sober Mom Squad meetings as often as I can.
It’s me, hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.
I do not offer the kind of content that flourishes on Substack. I’m also not a good enough writer to stand out from the rest. I have not found effective ways to channel my social media growth to this platform. I also do not do enough to engage with other writers and build relationships that might lead to recommendations or tags. I hate self-promotion and while I could probably reach out and offer guest posts, the idea makes me want to crawl out of my skin so I don’t.
I wanted to believe that if I wrote it, they would come and that is simply not the way it works. While I’ve found success on social media with this strategy, Substack is not like social media. I put 90% of my energy into my posts and 10% on marketing them and maybe this can be a lesson on what doesn’t work for others. Maybe 50/50 is a better ratio. Maybe even 30/70? I don’t know.
Let me tell you what is working through, so this isn’t just me crying on my keyboard. My paid subscribers have remained consistent for over a year now. And while I’m no Anne Helen Peterson (one of the most successful Substackers), I have remained at just under 100 paid subscribers for a long time and that’s pretty incredible. I’m genuinely grateful for this support and honestly this is a big reason I want to keep going. I’m not leaving Substack. Not today, Jesus. Not today.
But I also don’t want to cling to a sinking ship out of sheer stubbornness. I have words to share and stories to tell, even if 15 of you disagree with that statement each week. Consistency is important to marketing but not when it negatively impacts quality. So I’m going to be reducing my posts to every other week, and we will see how it goes. I don’t expect the content to change much but I’m also open to change, however it transpires. I hope this time helps me build my ideas and nurture my writing process. Regardless, it will give me time to work on my marketing better and to flex my hand at fiction, something I’ve been toying with on the side.
So here is what I promise all of you (minus the 15 who will hit Unsubscribe in a minute): more words, more stories, more inspiration. Less quantity, more quality. Sober tips and tools via Sober Staircase, and free access behind the paywall for anyone who asks.
On this page, you will find words to help end the stigma around recovery and addiction, mental health and illness. Also, parenting and the mental load. On occasion I’ll throw in some Taylor Swift lyrics or random pop culture references to keep things timely. Most of all, I promise to stop writing when the passion turns to a grind.
Lastly, can I just confess I have a writing hangover right now? Some people feel embarrassed when they share intimate details of their lives in their writing, but for me I feel most naked when I share my lack of writing success. It’s easy to gatekeep the numbers and subscribers and let people assume I’m are thriving in everything I do. It feels painfully embarrassing to share with my readers Substack is not something I do well.
If you read my book, you might remember the brochures they leave out at the casinos in Nevada that say on the cover “When the fun stops.” Writing is fun for me. It’s possibly the only thing I can go all in on and completely lose track of time. I love it when the writing just flows and it feels like the words are coming from something far deeper than my mind. That the spirits of generations past and future are weaving a tapestry of words to spill onto the page. Those are the moments when I remember this is so much bigger than me and some numbers of a spreadsheet. A story can connect us to a message, meaning, and even magic. And if I can do that for a few of you each week, it’s an honor and a privilege.
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Sober Staircase
Each week I will offer one of my favorite tips, quotes, affirmations, resources, or exercises to step up your sobriety. I hope these will be invaluable resources for your sober journey and well worth your money and time. This section is for paid subscribers only.
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