I made money within 24 hours of launching my Substack.
Am I a best selling author now?
Money was once a taboo subject—something to tiptoe around in polite company. Asking how much someone earned on an hourly rate was considered rude, much like discussing political views or offering unsolicited opinions. Knowing how many cents to the dollar someone spent on daily expenses? Practically unheard of.
But the landscape has changed. We now exist in a world intent on draining every last penny Stephanie the real estate receptionist has carefully stacked in her goal savers account, while whispering “just treat yourself” from the corner of her algorithm.
As writers, as aspiring authors, money is essential. You need it to pitch your ideas, to publish stories that are clawing their way out of your chest, to fend for yourself while you attempt to rejuvenate with cheap snacks and overpriced iced lattes that somehow taste like hope.
That author you love so deeply—the one whose writing makes you question every thought you’ve ever had about a man, or the women who orbit your sisterhood—they rely on money too. Passion doesn’t pay for proofreading.
We’re living in a time where money feels both painfully scarce and wildly abundant. It’s possible to make money from anything—your heartbreak, your journals, your obsession with fictional men who would probably ruin your life in real-time—but when the internet is flooded with voices all screaming for attention, we run headfirst into the slippery slope of oversaturation.
The questions are constant.
Should I bother?
Am I worth it?
Is this post relevant?
Do I make sense?
Will anyone even read this?
In 24 hours, I gained 40 subscribers—and one of those darlings believes the answer to all my questions is yes. So much of a yes that she paid for a year-long subscription just to hear whatever nonsense I decide is worthy of typing out.
And maybe that’s enough right now. One person. One yes. One paid subscription. Proof that this whole messy, chaotic, caffeinated writer thing might just be worth something after all.
