Learning to Swim (on Substack)

My journey to getting started on this platform and making a case for letting your gut guide you instead of that negative voice in your head

Jan 25, 2024

woman swimming in body of water — Photo by Anne Duaban

Prefer to listen to this story? Click below for the audio version:
sadyeevyn.substack.com/podcast

Getting started on Substack looked—and felt—quite different for me than similar endeavors in the past.

Unlike when I started my first blog, Lovely Splendid Happy, in 2016, I didn’t spend hours and hours (or rather years and years) researching Substack or studying its experts to determine what to do and how best to do it, or waiting for the “right time” to get started or for my writing and approach to be perfect before I did—we all know how that song and dance goes…

I knew from my previous experience with exploring new-to-me-territory that it’s best to just dive in and learn to swim as I go, lest I get cold feet before even entering the water.

So I went for it. Subtly at first and with cautious curiosity, like easing into the ocean—taking a few steps in before pausing, contemplating if I should keep going.

I started by reading a few articles by other Substackers, familiarizing myself with the newish platform that suddenly has influential creatives on Instagram jumping ship and climbing aboard this one.

Water grazing my toes.

Then a week or two later, I created a user profile, followed by my own newsletter publication.

Feet fully submerged.

Eventually, and to my happy surprise—as if finally following the subtle knowing nudges I’ve had for months and simply entertaining the idea of getting back into writing was the key I needed to unlock that creative part of me again—I opened up the notes section on my phone and tapped on the long neglected entry titled “WRITING IDEAS” and added a few ideas.

Waves splashing my midsection, shoulders scrunching up to my ears.

Then came the actual writing. At first it stumbled out in fleeting bursts, slowly and clumsily—I was rusty—all the while the voice in my head telling me I was crazy and that my writing sucked. I mean it did…*laughs*...at first.

But I’d been here before, on the precipice of trying something new or dusting off an old skill and faced with the all-too-familiar fear-driven voice of self-doubt and criticism urging me to stop before I make a fool of myself: “You haven’t told anyone you’re doing this, so no one will know if you quit now. Get out while you can!!!!” My inner critic is very dramatic, you see.

My response? “Fuck off fear—you and your voice can shove it!”

Water lapping at my neck, feet lifting from the sand.

Writing one essay, then another and another, words flowing more easily—“this is fun,” I thought on several occasions. “I’ve missed this. I’m good at this. Keep going”…

Treading water.

Five essays done, covering an array of topics like love and dating, motherhood, starting over, trying new things (case in point: writing on Substack), and how paying attention to signs from the Universe and following my intuition has shaped my life.

I could keep writing, tweaking, perfecting, but I knew in my gut what the next step was: it was time to take the plunge. I might hold my breath and close my eyes, but either way I had to go all the way under and get my damn hair wet, so that’s what I did. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So on a random Monday in November, I uploaded an essay and hit publish before I could change my mind, blowing out a huge sigh immediately after as the rush of adrenaline washed over me.

All the way in.

No strategic planning or clever launch tactics, no fanfare or promotion—just the quiet, yet sweet satisfaction of setting my mind to something and fucking going for it for no one other than me. Literally…I didn’t haven any subscribers yet.

And now here we are: two months, nine essays and seven podcast episodes in and I’m still swimming (writing) on Substack and loving it, despite not knowing what the hell I’m doing or if I’m “doing it right.”

It’s funny, this notion of “doing it right” and how that trips us up or prevents us from even starting.

As a spin instructor, something I say to my riders pretty much weekly is “in this room (the spin studio), there is no right or wrong, just what’s right for you.” In that context, I’m referring to taking a sprint entirely in the saddle, versus jumping up half way through a set. Or doing a seated endurance versus out at position three (the handlebars). Essentially encouraging my students to listen to their bodies and do what feels right for them.

The point is, whether it’s a workout or embarking on a new endeavor, there are so many different ways we can approach it and the truly best way, I believe, is the one that works for you. The one that gets you started. The one that keeps you coming back and moving forward. The one that feels good while you’re doing it.

In the case of sharing my writing on Substack, I knew in my gut that the best way—not necessarily the fastest or the smartest or the most strategic way—was to just start. To show up week after week without expectation—of subscribers, financial gain or validation in the form of comments or likes—and write because I feel like it. Because I need it. And because I trust that my urge to share my writing is there for a reason.

And you wanna know the best part? Despite not donning a life vest or wetsuit or floaties or—insert any other water-related safety net metaphors for doing copious amounts of research and becoming an “expert” or trying to uncover guarantees of success before allowing myself to start—the water feels good, great even!

No matter what happens with this endeavor, I’m so glad I got in and started swimming and I’m really grateful you’re here too.

Thank you. For reading, for subscribing, for paying, for commenting and liking or sending me messages (I really do love those interactions and the sense of community that comes from them) and for sharing/forwarding/restacking the stories that resonate with you. It means a lot. Truly.

Okay, enough about me…tell me about you, friend. Where in your life are you waiting to take the plunge and what’s one thing you can do today to ease in? Share with me below or send me a private message on Facebook, Instagram, email or text.

And then just remember: it’s okay to go slow…

First your toes, then your feet, your legs, your stomach…you get the idea…until eventually you’re floating in an ocean that’s all your own. You got this.

Start swimming.

xx
Sadye

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