You: Hi Katie, thanks for coming in today. I’m interested to know why you requested this meeting…
Me: Thank you. I just wondered if, now that my three-month trial period has passed, we could talk about making this a permanent position for me?
You: Um, I’m late for my appointment with The Wicker Man, but I guess I’m generally open to that discussion…
Me: When I started this letter, it was because I was frustrated that nu-Twitter (AE) was sinking my book review threads with its hateful new algorithm that didn’t like me linking to other sites – the other site being the place you could buy the reviewed book… my bookshop.
You *sighs*: Yes, I can see that that is incredibly inconvenient, not to mention blatant Small Angry Man Energy. So, you came here - and you liked it?
Me: Immediately and Obsessively!
You: Please stay seated.
Me: I love having the additional space to write. I’m not brief by nature and writing on Substack has allowed me to write much more as myself than I ever could on Twitter.
You: And how would you describe you ‘writing as yourself’?
Me: Less constrained. Freer to move between different topics that I feel I want to write about. Not restricted by character limits or a commitment to any sort of consistency…
You: Er, what?
Me: Well, it only took a couple of weeks before I branched out from what I claimed were book reviews to… well, whatever it is that I’ve ended up writing. Hybrid book recommendations and some TV stuff and some writing stuff and then in the last two weeks also a film thing and a dog thing. They’re all really Just About Me.
You: Hmm. I’m not su-
Me: This is a format that feels very comfortable for me. I loved Twitter, but it doesn’t serve my interests anymore; This Is My Home Now.
You: Can you get your feet off the table? Who gave you that cup of coffee? And stop talking about Twitter!
Me *putting in some gold hoop earrings*: I want to make a commitment to my ongoing work here. I want to make things official. I want to feel Like Jennifer Lopez when she decided her name was J-Lo, i.e. exactly the same.
You *bag of Dunkin Donuts in hand*: Ok, so what’s the plan?
Me: I’m going to switch on paid subscriptions.
*DANCE INTERLUDE*
Me: My love don’t cost a thing, but my time and words, could should. If you’re not ready to take that step with me, that’s ok. There are no hard feelings if you decide to stick with the occasional free post! It isn’t hugely about the money either; I’ve selected the lowest possible monthly option, and I’ve made annual subscriptions even cheaper. I know once Stripe and Substack take their cut, it’ll be pennies, but here’s why it’s stupid for me not to do it:
You: Ugh, go on… this is taking too long.
Me: In my head, writing book reviews, and then this Substack, has always been an audition for A Real Job. Some foolish part of me believed that if I kept sending my writing out into the world, someone would approach me and try to pay me for it.
Pay for something that I already give away for free.
You: That sound you hear is the penny falling through the air … about to drop, and not into your purse.
Me: When I write my Substack, I have these strange quiet daydreams that I’m writing a column for a magazine. I thought I’d be able to use this archive as a CV of sorts, when I pitched to an editor…
Bearing in mind that I have never pitched an article to an editor…
Bearing in another part of mind, while still bearing the other bit, I once did an online course on How to Pitch and Write for Women’s Magazines.
When I submitted both my pitch and then later my article to the course leader she wrote back with such enthusiasm and encouragement. ‘You’ve really set yourself apart from the rest of the group with this work’ she said, ‘You could send this pitch out to editors today!’ I was delighted, and I promptly never wrote another pitch ever again.
I didn’t even know what I wanted to pitch articles about. The pitch I wrote on the course was just Homework, the article I wrote wasn’t really me; I was just being the best in the class because that’s the only acceptable thing to be. I can always play a part, I never miss a deadline, but when I looked over the work I’d submitted, I thought, I don’t want my name on that.
You: Is this relevant?
Me: Sorry, I’ve strayed, and you’re still bearing all those bears. I kept telling myself that while I work on my fiction (the real me), and my writing for children (also extremely me), another writing gig would be the perfect addition to my flexible working week, and yet the last thing I want is word counts to cut down to, house styles to adhere to and nudges towards content I might not want to produce.
You *trying to exit, mauled by bears*: Get off me!
Me *looking out the window, now, talking into the future as the music swells*:
The idiotic reality is that the writing job I was dreaming of is this ridiculously messy newsletter. That I Write! Produce! and Star in! If only this could be my additional writing gig. If only I could somehow find a way to be employed to write about the things I love, directly by the people who might be interested in reading it…
You: What are you saying?
Me: Will you employ me to write about the things I love? Are you interested in reading the things that I write, here, on this platform that actively encourages writers to value their work and the time they put into it by making it fantastically easy to add a nominal fee…
You: DING! There it is! The penny hit something!
Me: My eye!
Me *now wearing an eyepatch*: So, with your permission, I’d like to give myself a promotion; to Writer.
You *getting up*: If I agree to this will you stop talking?
Me *shouting after you*: … SPORADICALLY!!!
Paid subscriptions will give you full access to new posts, archives and comments.
Free posts will be infrequent, badly written and mean-spirited.1
Ignore Founding subscriptions; if you actively just want to give me money then I’ll send you my bank details. Don’t click that option. There are no perks – I will not be perkier there.
This really is just business, and I’m happy with the barest minimum that Substack will allow, which works out less than £1 a week (and half that annually). Like I said, I won’t be offended if that’s not for you, or you want to hop in every few months, read some archive and then duck out again. That’s fine. But I hope you’ll understand that it’s just stupid to not even try. You think Jenny from the Block got anywhere in life by not trying?
But seriously, I’ll do my best to work hard for you. You’re my employers now, and I’d love to hear suggestions and feedback on anything and everything you’d like more/less of in these letters.
Thanks so much for reading, and apologies to my new subscribers this week, who haven’t had a chance to size me up yet, and are possibly only interested in my dog (She’s ok!). If you reply to this email, I’ll send you the code for a free month straight away. I can probably work out how to do that.
Katie from the Stacks
I’m joking. Aren’t I? Am I?
Katie this is SO good I loved it - god you’re funny. So thrilled people are sharing this (because that’s how I found it!)