How to make money on Substack without other social media
MY EMPIRE 💰📈💳
Two years ago, I started a Substack newsletter as a fun outlet for writing that had no business going elsewhere. A year after that, I monetized the page and committed to posting bi-weekly. I didn’t expect much to come of this, as I had deleted my Twitter account long ago and had no real plans of publicizing myself elsewhere. I was just writing for me, but figured if a few people were willing to pay me to do it that wouldn’t be bad, either: I love American money. In the last 12 months, I have reached almost 60k monthly views and make a “fair” wage for how many hours of work I put into this, and I never made another public social media account.
There is an ethos amongst the contingent colloquially known as “girlies” who think that, in order to be popular on here, you have to post on Notes constantly and also make TikToks and have a public Instagram, etc. Of course, making yourself a full-fledged influencer—an occupation that, for the record, I respect as much as any other and wish I possessed the gusto necessitated to pursue—will make it easier to find a following on Substack. Some of my favorite Substackers, namely
and , in fact “started” on TikTok, which is also the platform I discovered them on. My friend became famous here within 30 seconds of joining because she has one gajillion followers on X, The Everything App. Like, duh. My point is not that there is no synergy between online posting platforms, but that I make some dollars off my writing which I achieved via no self promotion elsewhere.
I also think that, while cross promotion on TikTok, Twitter, and Instagram obviously leads to more followers on Substack, those numbers do not necessarily translate to paying subscribers. I’ve written before about how, while Substack has functional and ideological imperfections like any other user-facing corporation, it is unique both in what it offers and demands from users. It’s insular and clumsy because it’s still new, but I like that and have used it to my advantage. There are few rules here, e.g. being hot and posting pictures of yourself is not a ticket to “being big” like it is somewhere else, nor is it necessarily expected from “women” here like it is everywhere else (I have reply guys who barely know what I look like!). And committing to reading or scrolling through long-form blogs is not the same as hitting a “follow” button and never seeing someone’s content on your FYP ever again. You might be hot and that might help you on the Substack app, but to make money you must also produce content that is both consistent and not annoying to receive via email every week: this is a learning curve not just any poster can overcome.
The thing that warrants my two cents on this, though, is that I’m not just “not a poster,” I am a private civilian.1 This, I think, is the great possibility embedded within Substack’s algorithmic model; like TikTok in 2019-2021, the contemporary moment on Substack is a chance for completely new mediatization of self, with new aesthetics and, more interestingly, new models for making American money. If you feel overwhelmed by Substack’s unique follower culture but are seeking American money: I’m not sure if this is advice so much as a narrativization of moderate success, but that might be interesting to you. Whether or not you’re an active Substacker, though, if you subscribe to me I literally have love in my heart for you.
Caveat: I am a liar
I do have one public social media account on Letterboxd, but I can more or less track where viewers and subscribers of my Substack are coming from and it’s not Letterboxd. I’ve had my Letterboxd for 7 or 8 years, too, and I only have 1,500 followers. Sometimes I promote my Substack posts there, but I find that has a similar effect to when I promote them on my private Instagram story; 2-5 real-life friends are reminded that I exist and are prompted to go read my Substack.
I also did make a public Twitter when I started this thing last spring, but I barely used it and never monitored if people were engaging with it. It’s since been made private, but I open it every so often to let people in, especially because it’s easier to DM there than it is here. I doubt my 100 X followers or whatever have greatly substantiated my Substack income, though.
First of all
You have to like it
I see a lot of try-harding on here, with people attempting to make trends à la short-form video content: this isn’t going to work. A couple people can “pop off,” so to speak, riding the wave of listicles about “third places” or dogpiling one book or celebrity or whatever, but not more than a couple. Trendiness obviously works because Substack exists within a larger world and culture, but not like that. A topic might go viral, but when you’re dealing with long-form writing the trend has to stop there, and to get people to click you have to have your own tone.
If you don’t care about whatever reviewing or essaying or diary-writing you’re doing, no one will care, either. This is obviously true beyond the great frontiers of Substack.com, but it’s especially relevant here, where every white woman who has ever had a cocktail converges each and every week to talk about the cocktails they’ve recently consumed. All the most popular Substackers with readers I know in real life have found a niche simply by virtue of really caring about the food, the celebrities, the clothes, etc., that they tell people about. I only go “viral” on here when I get mad, regardless of the quality or topicality of my writing.
At some point in your life, an old person has likely told you, “cream rises to the top,” which made you roll your eyes because of its erasure of favoritism and class. But I actually think this is true, if you expand your definitions of “cream,” “the top,” and how long it should take for something to rise.
If you’re trying it’s already over
In the grand scheme of Substackers, I am so minor it’s embarrassing for me to even be writing this. And yet, I have been recognized more than once by strangers in public because of my Substack. This kind of thing—getting sent books or invited to screenings—tends to make the contingent colloquially known as “girlies” believe they are influencers, in the traditional sense. I have written a lot about how we are, in fact, influencers, but that doesn’t mean what it did even 5 years ago, and Substack creates a unique context for such an identity.
To be a true influencer who eventually gets a bit part in a Hulu Original or the Big Account in podcast advertising (I assume this is Dunkin’), you have to do the synergy thing: front-facing video content, bi-weekly Substacking, podcasting, the lot. Now, could you get a book deal because of Substack? I’m sure, eventually, but probably not unless Lena Dunham follows you on here and you’re not breaking your back freelancing 100 other places. Also, what is an advance for someone who’s not making front-facing video content? Far less than what it should be, I’m sure!
Action items
Read
The best advice anyone has ever given me about writing is: if you can’t output, input. This is ridiculously simple, but if you follow it as scripture you write so much faster and better. Reading, like editing, is a part of writing. You need to be reading everything on here if you want to be a part of the cultural ecosystem, not just the people you’re trying to emulate.
Talk
What inspired this post is that I got the checkmark and thought, “I bet the majority of my subscribers came from referrals from people I met on Substack.” I don’t really monitor my dashboard like that, but I went to check this hypothesis, and I was right. My point: of course, it is a boon that I am friends with two famous and beautiful women who are famous on Substack (Fran and Sam). But I have grown more accidentally because I’m addicted to commenting and DMing invasive questions to strangers because of morbid and suffocating curiosity.
Do not comment or DM people with the express intent of “organic growth”: this is a website and does not contribute to anyone’s 401(k).2 But, like, be funny or ask questions and if the author is normal they will interact with you and then you will be friends. Write because you want to and talk because you want to and people will see and hear it, eventually.
Schedule
When it started, I approached this thing as much as a writing exercise as I did a hobby. And the spine of any writing exercise is consistency. You have to post all the time, let experiment after experiment into the ether and forget about it. Other specifics—days, times—don’t really matter: this website does not contribute to your 401(k).
Strategy
Balance personal & intellectual
wrote a great post recently about her dream social media:My perfect social media website has a diaristic bend to it, without being full diary entries. It’s checking in with each other but presenting it in a way that is silly or detached. Something that allows for good news and bad news, but mostly requires you to be a little bit funny. By the time it reaches your audience of semi-anonymous followers, you’ve stopped caring a little bit.
I’m not asking for the moon here.
I think, if you apply this diaristic wittiness to Substack, it’s hard to keep a real gimmick going. There are plenty of great ones on here that I am jealous of, like HEAVIES and Boy Movies, but these are substantiated by a refined sense of intimacy and a deeply personal approach to a kind of flippancy toward one’s own newsletter “theme.” Boxing yourself in to only diary entries or reviews or whatever is not a recipe for longevity.
Don’t overly professionalize titles & graphics
Small stuff
Don’t allow free trial redemptions on every paid post
If you give stuff away for free people will take it, and the taking will not build any real momentum toward monetary engagement. Would you pay for something if you didn’t have to?
Don’t paywall an entire post
This isn’t anything I’ve ever really done, but sometimes I will see a title that catches my eye, I’ll click, and I can’t see any of the body text. If I don’t already know the author, why on God’s Earth would I pay to see a post that might be bad or one-paragraph long?
Add time-sensitive paywalls to your archive
I resisted this for a long time, because sometimes the pursuit of dollars feels at odds with one’s desire for people to actually read one’s writing. But I ultimately think giving away your work for free for 3 months, 6 months, a year, and then saying, “that’s enough freeloading” is totally fair. If, after all that time, someone is motivated enough to seek out stale work, they will also be motivated to pay you for it.
Get paid
Not getting paid for media contributions that take a lot of time, cultural memory, and skill is not heroic and in fact it is stupid. Recently, my credit card expired and some of my subscriptions bounced and the guilt has been keeping me up at night.3 I think TikTokers should be making billions of dollars and that
should be as rich as Taylor Swift, let alone people who write theory on here or whatever. Editing online posts is tedious, and participation in them necessitates a sort of vulnerability rivaled only by live performers, and even they have some institutional insulation from human error and personal humiliation.By all means, shoot for the stars—I have started telling people I’m going to be the Zoella of Substack—but manageable compensation for your time is a good place to start.
I am open to changing this.
One time I got an invitation from a stranger who was probably 20 years old inviting me to pay money to go to a Substack meetup.
If you were effected by the great Clare’s Credit Card decline… STAY IN LINE! This will be rectified EOW.
every word of this is correct but especially "this website does not contribute to your 401(k)"!!!!! many could stand to hear this!!!
I’m a certified lurker but you inspire me ❤️