Tuesday morning dawned with coffee and a dollop of panic. It’s publication day, and despite my plans to have a backlog of drafts ready to go, I’m scrambling to come up with a topic for this week’s postcard.
I spin my wheels worrying about what’s popular and trending. I research tips and tricks for getting noticed on Substack. I could chalk this up to writerly anxiety and perfectionism, and most of you would get it. But that’s not quite it.
The light dawned when I found this Note from
.“I was so excited at the idea that this [Substack] was my space to make things that delight me. And then I started getting more readers!! And then I started to worry if what I was making would be what they wanted. And I started making things based on my guess of what people might want from me instead of what I was feeling curious about.
I very quickly stopped having fun, and not long after that, what had seemed like an infinite well of inspiration dried right up.” —On Purpose, Melissa Cullens
I wasn’t having fun
I’d start every morning scrolling the Instagram parade of women launching new endeavors, writing motivational books, reclaiming their bodies, and embracing peace and wellness like it was their job—it was their job. I wanted to be one of them, sharing my best life with strangers and collecting followers like a midlife pied-piper.
At age 56, I started measuring my success in likes, comments, and followers. I checked my progress several times daily hoping to see that red person icon with a number next to its tiny head, indicating new followers.
“Are you trying to be an influencer?” my millennial daughter asked one night via text. “You know you need like tens of thousands of followers, right?”
I was well on my way—30% growth since I’d begun posting daily. Thirty percent is fantastic. That’s how I would have positioned it on a quarterly business review. The raw numbers told a different story.
After two years with an Instagram account and several weeks of concerted effort, I had amassed 131 followers. Not only was it discouraging, but it also wasn’t fun.
I had no regrets about quitting my job, but I wondered. Were the efforts to publish and promote online, followed by the thrill of virtual kudos, merely proxies for the fast-paced excitement and recognition I used to get from my job?
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Amid Life with Catherine Palmer to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.