12 Honest Lessons From a Year of Writing Online
Braver, Bolder, Better
Help me keep my writing free and show your appreciation by keeping me fuelled with coffee!
A year ago, I hit publish on my very first Substack post. I had no idea what I was doing, no clear plan, and a huge amount of fear about anyone actually reading my words.
I only told a few friends and close family (not that I’ve told many more in the last year!). My first newsletter went out to a handful of people and I wondered why I’d embarked on this journey.
Over the past 12 months, I’ve learned a lot. Not just about writing online but about writing itself. About patience with my creativity, vulnerability in my writing, and trusting my own voice.
To celebrate making it to a year of publishing online, I’m sharing twelve lessons that I’ve learned along the way. Let me know if any of them resonate with you.
1. Chasing numbers is a waste of time
When I started, I thought the reads, likes, follows and subscribes were a measure of the value of my words. I would publish a newsletter, then refresh my dashboard constantly to see how many email opens and views it had. The open rate, link clicks, subscribes, and un-subscribes all seemed like feedback on how interesting my piece had been.
Then I realised that knowing all of this didn’t make me write better, and it definitely didn’t make me feel good. What did bring me joy was hearing my readers’ thoughts and filling my creative cup by connecting with other writers.
That’s what being on Substack is really about for me - the community of thinkers who want a deeper experience online.
2. The right readers find you when you write your truth
It took me a while to stop worrying about how things would sound and what people would think. To start writing what was on my mind. The pieces that connected most with my readers weren’t the clever ones… they were the ones that were vulnerable and authentic. The ones where I shared stories from my life that helped readers understand my journey and my writing dreams.
Every time I wrote something personal or a bit uncomfortable, someone would message me to say, I feel that too. I realised that being true to myself is the best way to find my tribe. I’m not here to please everyone, just connect with the readers who get my words.
I’m a teacher, educational consultant and novelist with an academic background in English Literature, Philosophy and Psychology. Learn more about my free monthly newsletter for deep thinkers and creative souls.
3. You don’t owe consistency
When I started out, every time I opened the Substack app I was pushed ‘growth hack’ advice, and one of the things I apparently had to do was set a schedule and stick to it. I used to think that if I missed a post, my readers would disappear but now I know that isn’t true.
I began with a fortnightly newsletter, but recently I moved to monthly so I can focus on writing my second novel. My readers know why I’ve changed the schedule - my creativity has a different focus right now.
4. Writing online makes you braver
Clicking publish never stops feeling scary. In fact, last year I created my Substack account in January and didn’t publish my first post until November. I still worry that I’ve made a typo, written something that no one will read or will be judged.
But every time I share something, it gets easier. I’ve realised that nothing terrible happens when someone doesn’t like your words or you make mistakes. The fear hasn’t disappeared, but it’s shrunk, and I’ve started to trust my own voice more.
5. Substack is a way to share my words even if my novel is never published
Now that my debut novel is on submission to publishing houses, I could sit at home hoping that one day someone might read my words. I have faith in my agent, but that doesn’t mean I’m not honest with myself about how difficult it is to sell a novel.
So, I started writing online and sharing my thoughts about culture, philosophy, creativity, and society. If I hadn’t pushed myself, I’d still be at 0 subscribers rather than over 300 and wouldn’t have had 17,000 article reads. These number might not sound big to you, but for me they are huge.
6. Notes are the place I’ve built connection
Back in the day, I used Twitter to share my educational consultancy work, mostly posting about my work as a Philosophy for Children trainer. That was before things went X-shaped and I migrated to Instagram to share book reviews and writing inspiration.
Then I found the Substack Notes feed which is the place to find interesting articles and writers to follow. It feels like sitting in a café and overhearing something interesting, then joining in the conversation. I’ve discovered a whole community of genuinely thoughtful people, and that has been one of the most inspiring parts of this journey.
7. Finding your niche takes time
When I first started, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to write about. I had essay ideas jotted down all over the place, lists of names for interviews, and reflections to share with my readers.
But as the months have passed, I’ve found a different rhythm. I’m exploring the same themes that have always been important to me, but I’m letting my writing find its own path. Each time I sit down to write, it feels fresh, like I’m discovering what’s waiting inside to surface.
8. Writing changes your relationship with rest
Before I started writing, rest felt like a privilege I never had time for. I would fill my diary with work, family, and social commitments, and feel guilty if I spent an afternoon reading because it felt like doing nothing.
Now I’ve learned to see rest differently. The pauses to stare out the window, the long walks, and the days when I don’t even open my laptop are all part of the writing process. The more time I take for reflection, the faster my creativity grows.
9. Community starts with vulnerability
When I’m willing to be vulnerable in my writing, my readers connect with my words and some even reply with their own stories. When that happens, it feels like the biggest compliment. It means they trusted me enough to open up.
It’s strange because in life we spend so much time trying to appear as if we have it all together, but what really connects us is realising that we don’t. For me, one of the best parts of writing online is being understood, and that starts with honesty.
I share book reviews and behind-the-scenes snippets of my writing life on Instagram.
10. It’s okay to write slowly
Everything online tells you to create more, post frequently and build momentum. For some this suits their content, but for me, not everything worth writing happens quickly. Some pieces take months to find the right shape. Others never become finished essays but still teach me something about how I think.
I’d rather slow down when I need to and write more thoughtfully. For me, the process is just as important as the outcome. Why would I want to pressure myself with something that should be joyful?
11. You find your voice when you stop editing yourself out
Your voice, your truth, your authenticity lives in the specifics. It’s in the details of your experiences, in the emotions that swirl inside, in the doubts that make you human. And in a world full of AI, these things will never be truly replicated by an algorithm.
I’ve learned to lean into my voice and stop letting the fear of judgement make me edit myself out. Writing from this place feels braver and more fulfilling, even if it’s not always perfect.
12. Writing publicly helps you understand yourself
After a year of doing this, I can see patterns in my thinking I didn’t notice before. I’m understanding more about what I care about, what I struggle with, and how I’ve grown. Writing publicly is like holding up a mirror. It shows you what matters, and what doesn’t.
I’ve also realised how much of life I’d forget if I didn’t write it down. That’s the biggest gift Substack has given me: the time and space to understand myself.
Support my writing by sharing this with a friend, liking and leaving a comment or re-stacking on Substack.
Looking back, the last year has been less about numbers or growth and more about discovering what matters to me as a writer. Substack has been a place to experiment, to share and stumble. Writing publicly has helped me understand myself, my ideas, and the readers I want to reach. Most importantly, it’s reminded me that writing isn’t a race. I don’t know what the next 12 months will bring, but I do know I’ll keep showing up, learning, and sharing what only I can write.
Do any of these lessons resonate with you? I love hearing from my readers.
Photo Credits:
Kelly Common on Unsplash
Bookblock by Unsplash
Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash





Loved all of these insights, and I resonate with many of them, particularly #7 and #10. I thought my Substack was going to be all about writing and my publishing journey, but I love sharing the vulnerable parts of myself: the challenges I'm doing to better myself, reading lists, and random life moments. I want my Substack to be an extension of me—my full self, with all its layers and complexity—and not force myself to cater to a single, specific niche.
As for writing slowly, I find so much more joy in handwriting. I wrote the entire first draft of my memoir longhand and found it to be more cathartic and personal. I usually type my Substack drafts, but I've been wanting to add more personal columns and essays, and I know they'll get the longhand treatment. It's crucial to focus on your process, rather than what the current trend is telling you.
So many beautiful points in this. I am grateful for your words, Simi. I love that you’re doing Substack your way. And that it nourishes you while you submit & pitch. ♥️