A Personal Update!

My real feelings about Substack, working from home and trying something new.

Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash

Earlier this year, on a very cold and snowy January day, I decided I needed to make good on one of my longtime intentions of forming community and professional work outside of my home. As someone who is a true homebody and introvert, I naturally default to staying in my “bubble” and working in a relatively solitary environment. I am perfectly content to be home alone most of the day, but the downside is that this very flexibility that allows me to work from my kitchen table has made technology an integral part of my career. In my 20’s and early 30’s, I worked outside the home full-time, but after I had kids, I transitioned to at-home recipe development and writing. For a long time, it felt like a dream. I was able to be with my kids full time, and worked in the margins. I couldn’t imagine going back to work outside the home ever again.

Now that my kids are a little older and in school full-time, there’s a big chunk of the day when I’m not actively caregiving. After I tend to household stuff and finish my daily workout, I typically use the rest of that time to work. But lately, this arrangement has felt different and unsustainable.

In the last few years, I’ve shifted away from recipe development because I was feeling drained and chronically uninspired. In order to fill in the gaps in my income, I poured more of my time into Substack, which initially felt like the perfect place to make my online home. But as I invested more into my newsletter, Substack swiftly evolved into something that closely resembles the very social media platforms that I was desperately trying to escape. All of a sudden, there was a huge influx of new writers (some of them very famous with gigantic pre-existing platforms) and newfound pressure to “keep up” with an endless stream of new features. I suddenly had the uncomfortable realization that writing this newsletter was starting to feel wrong: having to be at the mercy of algorithms, AI, and an increasingly competitive, noisy, and fickle environment here on Substack is not what I signed up for.

I’ve come to accept that I’m terrible at playing the online content creator game. I don’t do video and I feel utterly ridiculous taking selfies. I don’t like thinking about content strategy, I resent how daily posting on Notes (basically, Twitter/X) has become a critical Substack growth mechanism, and looking at back end stats gives me major anxiety. I have always just wanted to cook and write, full stop. But it’s gotten so much more complicated than that, and I’m just not willing or able to do what is necessary to monetize online in a meaningful way. I’ve always wanted to live a simpler, more analog life, and keeping up in the online world feels like the antithesis of those values.

I’ll be very honest: I’m a “best seller” here, but lately it’s by a wing and a prayer; I’m not sure how much longer I’ll have my badge. My numbers have plummeted sharply in the last year or so, and every time I post, I lose subscribers (both paid and free), which, let me tell you, feels great after devoting hours (and sometimes days) to thoughtfully writing and editing each post. I’m trying to not take it personally, but it can still feel incredibly discouraging, and at times futile, to continue to pour time and energy into a sinking ship. It’s definitely impacted my mental health, which is not OK. As a result, I’ve come close to folding up shop here in the last few months. I know that everyone has limited time and money, and there are so many newsletters popping up, it’s impossible to read and support them all. I’ve had to hit “unsubscribe” a bunch of times myself, not because those newsletters weren’t quality writing, but because my inbox overfloweth and the monthly subscription fees were starting to add up.

For all of the hours I’ve spent thinking about this and agonizing over next best steps, I keep coming back to the fact that I love this newsletter, and deeply appreciate that it provides me with a much-needed creative outlet. I would miss it sorely if I quit. So, instead, I’ve decided to take the pressure off. I am keeping my newsletter, but I’m going to try really hard to release attachment to its success or failure. I’m going to write for the sake of writing and sharing, and if I lose my “best seller” status, I’m going to try and be OK with that. That’s not why I signed up to write here in the first place. In fact, when I achieved that milestone, I wasn’t even sure what it meant, and there certainly was no status attached to that little badge! Sigh, the good old days.

So, back to that cold and snowy January day when I resolved to do more outside of the home: that same evening, I impulsively wrote an email to a local organic and regenerative farm and asked if we could work together. The owner wrote back, and we scheduled a date - months in advance - for me to tour the farm in the spring. Well, last week I finally had the opportunity to go and spent nearly two hours visiting what I can only describe as my personal heaven. The whole time I was there, hearing about the sustainable farming practices and deep reverence for the local land and wildlife, I felt inspired and hopeful, borderline euphoric. I realized that I am far greater suited to that kind of work, at least at this point in my life. So, I am fully devoted to trying to shift my professional efforts to local groups and organizations that take an interest in organic farming, conservation work and holistic wellness. There’s no job lined up at the moment, but I’m fully committed to trying to make this happen. Wish me luck!

In the meantime, I will still be here writing and sharing, just without expectation to make this my “job”. I deeply appreciate your readership and support - you are what keeps me coming back, even when it feels like no one cares or is listening. I know there are many of you who read my words every week (hi Mom & Dad! 😂), and I can’t tell you how much that means to me. There’s a mind-boggling amount of information online, and the fact that you choose to spend your time here is so touching, motivating and inspiring. So, thank you. It means the world.

I’ll be back soon! Have a great rest of your week.

xo

Lauren