It was exactly a year ago today that I posted my first essay A Tourist in my Hometown on my Substack page that I hadn’t even properly set up. Hours later I landed my first founding member, before I knew it was a thing. I will be forever indebted to this generous founding member who left me no choice but to write, now that I was paid :)
First, I’ll admit, I was gripped by terror. Can I commit to writing regularly with my already charged schedule as a single mother with two hormonal teenagers, a yoga business to run, and a challenging book to write? I was aware of my tendency to put my heart and soul into everything that I do and I didn’t want to overextend myself. Could I produce quality writing that people would actually want to read, if all I had was a space of 4-6 hours a week to dedicate to it? I decided to try.
My Substack Experiment
Writing my Substack post thus became my new Shabbat ritual. I rose early (6 am if you really want to know) on Saturday mornings and wrote for 4-5 hours before my daughters woke up. The three simple rules were:
a. Show up (to practice consistency)
b. Allow whatever the week has inspired to translate onto the page without judging it (to practice letting go of perfectionism)
c. Have fun.
As soon as my daughters were up, game was over, so I returned to edit my Substack post on the Sunday morning (again, at 6 am) before teaching a yoga class at 9 am. I am sharing this with you because I think it is important to be honest about the fact that if you want to get shit done, especially writing, you will have to make some inconvenient sacrifices. This is what Elizabeth Gilbert (borrowed from Mark Manson I believe) calls “the shit sandwich.” For me, getting up at 6 am is a worthwhile sacrifice, because I absolutely love this shit (writing, that is). A nice cup of coffee and writing in the early hours of the morning is my favourite thing in the world, especially when the rest of the house is asleep. Apparently, as the German saying goes, ‘morning hours have gold in their mouth’ (Morgenstund hat Gold im Mund, or, if you prefer it in Latin, “aurora habet aurum in ore).1
And then, there was the challenge of actually posting; i.e. letting go of my imperfect writing. Every time I pressed the ‘publish’ button, I was filled with dread. Until that dread turned into excitement, or dread mixed with excitement.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t look at the stats. I couldn’t afford to. I already had the overwhelming pressure of completing a book. I couldn’t also strive to be a “best-seller Substacker” (as well as a good mother, and a healthy and sane human being of course). I knew that if I succumbed to this pressure, Substack would turn into another burden, and I would no longer be having fun.
Having fun, or at least trying to, has been paramount for me this year - a year that has been weighed down by so many personal, and global challenges.
I tried my best to avoid writing about the Israel-Palestine conflict. Politics is not my domain; I much prefer literature. But in the weeks following the atrocity that was October 7, it was impossible to pretend that all was good in the world. To write about the joys of reading in Italian felt dishonest. How could I claim that “my mission is to challenge the status quo and encourage respectful and meaningful conversation” if I stayed silent on an issue that was close to my heart as an ‘outsider’ growing up in Israel. Writer
said that you are guaranteed to get the maximum haters if you choose the wildly unpopular path of advocating for peace. I knew this as I went into writing “A Difficult Week” on October 14. I sobbed and wrote. I was terrified of hitting the ‘publish’ button. But I dared to hope that I wasn’t the only one in the world who thought that no good was going to come out from more killing and violence.I still believe this.
But those of us who hold these nuanced views tend to stay silent, intimidated by the loud voices of the extreme, who don’t see beyond their black and white / good vs evil simplicity, and can’t afford to be “confused” by seeing certain humans as humans. So I had no choice but to put my neck out and be that person who spoke for that silent majority.
Yes, it came at a cost. My relationship with my family continues to be strained over this issue and my closest friend and I had to take a long break from each other. But I am happy to report that I received no hate, only heartfelt e-mails, messages and comments thanking me for articulating what these people felt. I’ll admit that “A Difficult Week”, “Dreaming of Peace” and “Searching for Still Water” took more than 6 hours to write, but it was important for me to try and “get it right” (as much as I could) knowing that I was walking into a hornet’s nest.
Other than those three posts, I have stuck to my Shabbat rule of 4-5 hours of writing, followed by 1-2 hours of editing the next morning.
And still, as always, I put my heart and soul into each and every post. That is a rule I don’t think I will ever be able to break. My writing, no matter how short, or long, always comes from a deeper place than I care to admit. I guess it is just who I am. I make no apologies for this anymore.
Which brings me to the best thing about Substack…
Finding my People on Substack
First, there were those great New Yorker writers and
, but thanks to ’s Story Club, ’s Writers at Work and the incredibly generous ’s WITD I have found a community of exceptional writers who have their own Substacks. and I continue to have the most stimulating exchanges in the comment sections and she feels more like a dear friend, although we have never met. Her newsletter What Now? has the best writing prompts and inspiring writing examples to learn from. ’s Writers are Superstars writes about the business of writing with such vulnerability and honesty that I can’t help commenting every week (as I nod in admiration). I love ’ take on politics, AI and writing. She always challenges me to think in new ways. writes so beautifully about Italy, the German Black Forest and aging with integrity and strength. She also makes the most beautiful pottery and mouth-watering tarts. almost always makes me cry. Her writing just takes my breath away. And then there are , and from , who each have their own publications as well. I had the honour of writing for them, and this most recent piece by about The dance of mythos and logos will just blow you away. When I read it, I finally understood why I get teary looking at a beautiful gate and why I am naturally drawn to the grandeur of Rome.Generosity and Good Karma
These are of course just a few examples, but there is so much good writing to be found here. And best of all, you can support your favourite writers directly. It is easy to be generous. A free subscription, comments and restacks help the writer get seen, and be read by more people. A growing platform helps with publishing deals (yes, in our modern publishing world it is not enough to write a decent book, but you are expected to market it as well).
Paid subscriptions do more than that. They help sustain the writer and communicate to them that their work is valued.
I mentioned the writers above so you can check out their newsletters and support their writing. I kindly ask you to do the same with my writing. I know some of you have been reading me incognito through the story links on Instagram without realizing the difference your subscription could make in my life, and how easy it is to be supportive. It feels good to be generous. It’s just good karma. Every free subscription helps me get in front of more people, and every paid subscription helps me support fellow writers with a paid subscription.
I hope Substack will not change and become corrupted like other social media platforms. I like it here. I really do.
Finally, a place where writers can be supportive of each other, instead of competing with each other for grants and publications. This is a much healthier environment, and one that allows us to build communities.
Building a community & future plans
Speaking of communities, I have many exciting ideas for the coming year. The poems and personal essays will stay, but I also want to bring my YOGA CLINIC here. Unlike traditional yoga classes, Yoga Clinic is aimed at those individuals who are curious about yoga, but (falsely) believe that they are not (and therefore, never will be) “flexible enough” to practice yoga. It is a healing, therapeutic approach to yoga in which I break down the simplest of yoga poses to even simpler, doable steps, and provide you with accessible breathing techniques and meditations to help you calm the mind, relieve stress, improve focus and general well-being. You can have a feel for this in my post Your Pain, Your Teacher, in which I offer a 9 minute guided meditation to help you manage physical pain.
Even if you are a regular yoga practitioner, these 10-15 minute deep-dives into a single asana can really help enhance your practice at a studio, or at home, when you flow through longer sequences.
Please let me know in the comment section below if this sounds interesting to you.
Or maybe you want more poetry and personal essays? Or maybe just the same amount?
Other ideas and inspirations…?
In the next week or so I will be updating my Substack and I would love to take your suggestions into consideration.
That’s it for now. I don’t say this lightly: Thank you for reading me. Thank you for being generous with your time, subscriptions, comments, and gifted subscriptions. Have a beautiful weekend (or week)!
Imola
I’m writing these lines at exactly 6.53 am on a Saturday morning.
Share this post