Tending the Garden that is Substack
It's not about the numbers, but also, kind of, it is.
This week I sent out an SOS flare into the vast digital wilds of Substack. I asked the question we’ve all quietly wondered but rarely say out loud: Why am I not getting traction?
Stuck at 125 subscribers after two months of writing weekly, posting frequently, and being a genuinely engaged human in the community. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum—at least, I didn’t mean to. Looking back, maybe it was a bit of a whinge. But also? It was real. And if we can’t be real here, then what’s the point?
Turns out, I’m not alone. Not by a long shot.
The response was surprising, and honestly, kind of beautiful.
I got kindness. Suggestions. Stories. Solidarity.
Not performative “hang in there, babe” emojis. Real humans with real thoughts. People who cared enough to respond.
You can read their suggestions here. Maybe they’ll help you too if you’re also stuck in Substack subscriber purgatory.
And then—magic or math—my subscribers almost doubled. 125 became 228 in 48 hours. Maybe it was the algorithms doing their secret handshake behind the scenes. Maybe my vulnerability was just that magnetic. Maybe it was just divine timing. I don’t know.
But here’s what I do know: Substack isn’t social media. Let’s never lump it in with Facebook, X (formerly Twitter, and formerly tolerable), or Insta ever again. This space feels different. Calmer. Slower. More intentional. Less performative.
It’s not about curating a perfect grid or chasing dopamine hits from likes. It’s about tending. Showing up. Noticing what’s growing.
Substack is a garden.
That beautiful idea wasn’t mine—it came from a generous reader Beth Spencer who responded to my post and said something that landed right in my bones: Substack needs to be tended like a garden. With gentle, daily attention. With presence, patience, and care. It’s stayed with me ever since.
It’s not a megaphone.
Not a billboard.
Not a stage.
A garden.
It needs attention. It asks you to water it with your words, your presence, your replies. It rewards reciprocity—not just in comments or clicks, but in connection.
Sometimes that means planting new ideas when you’re not sure anyone’s listening.
Sometimes it means pulling up the weeds of self-doubt and imposter syndrome.
Sometimes it means composting the old content strategies that no longer serve you.
And sometimes, it means lying back in the grass, exhausted but proud, knowing you showed up and gave something real.
And the blooms? They’re the connections. The unexpected resonance. The fellow writers and readers who feel like they were always meant to be in your orbit.
I’ve met actual people here. People I want to know in-real-life. People I’m now Zooming with, meeting at writing festivals, maybe even sharing a wine with someday.
People who feel like penpals from a better time.
(And yes, also a few creepy blokes sending “hi” messages with suspiciously handsome profile photos that almost certainly aren’t them. Because even gardens have weeds. And let’s be real—there’s always a middle-aged man lurking in the metaphorical bushes thinking his unsolicited message is a gift.)
But mostly, this is a space of care.
I’ve already had more subscribers here than I ever managed through my old WordPress blog and Mailerlite list combined. Two years of pushing content out into the void vs. two months of authentic engagement here.
It’s made me rethink everything.
Do I need my website anymore?
Do I really need to copy/paste every post across multiple platforms just to keep feeding the SEO beast?
Or is this enough?
Substack feels like a turning point. A new way of writing, sharing, connecting.
Not shouting into the void, but planting roots in a community that gives a damn.
So here I am, watering my garden.
And I’m so damn glad you’re here in it with me.
🌱 Want to help this garden grow?
Share this post with a friend who’s also writing brave things into the void. Subscribe if you haven’t already. Leave a comment if you feel bold. Let’s build something nourishing, honest, and gloriously feminist—together.
Because brave women write. And brave women tend—to ourselves and each other.
I love that you wrote this, and the responses to the other one have helped me find more Australians, who have been missing for me, as we are now being swamped by the US trauma-filled news the algorithm appears to promote. I have been missing the connections recently too and I have been thinking that maybe my time would be better spent in the garden than making the effort of growing my Substack. Your posts and the comments to follow have changed my mind today. When I started here it was so peaceful, loving and kind and in the beginning all I could see was epic writing or even just lovely people giving it a crack. So many women in full bloom. I think I will delete a lot of the US-led trauma-soaked subscriptions for a while and hang out with more women like you!
Beautifully said, Caroline. 🧡