You are not a subscriber (to me)

Publishing, pricing and patronage

When I send out a newsletter, I see my subscribers gathered here

Instead of my usual Wednesday note, I wanted to talk to you about how this Substack has evolved because of you, what you mean to me and what the pricing plan is for the future. Buckle up!

Confession 1: Most people have a devil and an angel on their shoulders. I have two wolves called ‘Fuck it’ and ‘Fear’.

I started this Substack in March last year, based on Tim Denning's recommendation. I moved fast before the fear kicked in, and I talked myself out of it.

I started with zero subscribers.

“That’s not too bad. After all, no one will see my typos or the way I make it up as I go along. I can please myself. Just playing here, folks.”

A week later, the first subscriber showed up. A fellow Substacker with an amazing email address.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep writing. He’ll unsubscribe if he gets bored.”

Reader, he did not get bored. He’s still with us to this day.

Six more of you signed up. In my head, I saw you join the table like a Mad Hatters Tea Party.

“Let’s try a short story.”
(The surfboard)

The first six months were slow. Just twenty people. However, that suited me down to the ground. I could pretend I was at a book club or a casual BBQ. It kept Mr. Scardy-Pants Wolf at bay.

“Ooooh! Notes!”

I started talking to people. More of you joined. I did some interviews. I realised that all writers—even published authors—were just making it up as they went along. At some point, I revised my About page. Then, one day in October, I looked up, and there were eighty of you.

Enough for a band night at the local pub.

“Where the hell is this story going?! It was supposed to end three weeks ago!”
(Tale of Two Cities).

I found myself writing an unplanned serial. You all seemed to like it - the open rate remained constant. I have a roadmap in my head for how it should end, but the characters surprise me on a weekly basis.

I realised my Wednesday notes needed rethinking. You weren’t that interested in fantasy news and new releases. After all, Netflix has its own email list, and the publishing industry can afford ads. You preferred my entries on Cornish life and mythology.

“OK, I can do that.”
(Do Monsters Have Jobs & Blogs, pods, cats and mine spirits)

We made it to 2024 with a hundred subscribers. I might have to build a mind castle for our weekly get-togethers.

“So the secret is persistence? Why did no one tell me that?”
(100 million reasons to persist)

Today’s post will go out to 169 subscribers and restacked to 450 (ish) followers. At least half of you will read it, and a few of you will comment or like it (thank you).
My 2023 self would find this unbelievable.

“If I am a better writer today than I was yesterday, it’s because of you.”

Confession 2: I have sent out over a million emails in my day job.
I’ve found more satisfaction in the hundred emails I’ve sent to you.

I’m well aware I could have grown this newsletter much faster through promotions, ads and self-seeding on other platforms. Away from Substack, I work as a digital marketer for companies around the world. I can talk for hours about subject lines, open rates and audience growth. However, I didn’t want this space to become another job or chore. I’m jaded enough.

Instead, I wanted it to grow organically whilst I worked out who you were (my audience) and what you enjoyed (monsters and fairies). We are all here to be entertained, and your time is the most finite resource around.

Confession 3: I’m in it for the attention, but books require funds.
I’m looking for patrons.

I attended a class by the excellent Jane Friedman last week about paid Substacks, and her presentation crystallized a few things for me.

• Paid subscriptions are great if you are a nonfiction writer offering tangible benefits, such as a political journalist, a war reporter, or a financial advisor watching the markets. It’s easier to stand out and justify the monthly fee.

• Fiction writers face market saturation. After all, you can get 20 titles for £9.49 on Kindle Unlimited and a Netflix subscription for £4.99. It’s much harder to justify a higher monthly fee, especially if your readers are signed up to dozens of Substacks.

• There’s also subscription creep. £6 here or £10 there quickly adds up, and suddenly, you are paying £60 or more a month to various places. Whilst most of us want to support our favourite writers, we also need to pay the electricity bill.

Fortunately, there is another model out there: patronage. In this model, readers get to choose how much they want to support their authors. It’s been going on since Shakespeare’s time.

The Plan

I didn’t start this Substack to get rich. If anyone tells me they want to earn a living through fiction, I would point them towards ghostwriting or copywriting. However, publishing ebooks does require time and money, which is one of my goals for this year.

You choose the price of your subscription

If you can afford £40, that’s brilliant. If you can afford only £10, that’s cool too.

Pay £40 ~ Pay £30 ~ Pay £20 ~ Pay £10*

*This will convert to your local currency.

All proceeds go towards this year’s Plotted Out ebooks, which you will get for free before they are sold publicly. I want to pay a cover artist, fully edit the stories, and format the books. At present, Tale of Two Cities will become a full-blown novel, and I’ve got enough short stories for an anthology.

I’m also paywalling my posts after one week. If you are a free subscriber, you can read everything, but you must do it within seven days.

This safeguards my back catalogue as they get polished and released on Amazon.

As always, I look forward to your feedback. Leave a comment here or on Notes.

Until next week,

Nat