If you’ve been feeling boxed in by your publishing structure, I recorded this live stream just for you… Thank you
, , , , , , and many others for tuning in today. If you enjoyed today’s live stream, please remember that a ❤️ and a restack helps lift all voices on Substack . ☀️
Every day, I’m in conversation with Substack writers and creative entrepreneurs through Voxer — a walkie-talkie-style app where we exchange asynchronous voice notes in real time.
I carry their questions into the outdoors with me. I pause with them while folding laundry or cooking dinner. I turn them over while journaling or curled up in my office chair.
Today’s live stream is where I’m sharing insights from these conversations — born from real-time coaching with authors and entrepreneurs who are trying to publish in rhythm with their lives and creative instincts, not in reaction to internet urgency.
This month, five themes emerged again and again — each one helping a writer reclaim something they thought they had to sacrifice:
Creative permission
Structural intuition
Nervous system awareness
Editorial discernment
Self-trust in their rhythm
I’m sharing them today because these aren’t fringe concerns. I know they affect so many people on Substack because they’re actually deeply intertwined with the real work of sustainable publishing.
If any of this feels familiar, watch today’s live stream and make sure you’re subscribed to my newsletter. Because in August, I’ll be publishing a deep dive into the reimagined writing structures I’ve used to stay consistent on Substack for three years — the kind that don’t box you in, but work with your own creative rhythms.
1. You’re Not a Reporter with a Beat. You’re a Voice.
When I was an editor in a newsroom, we assigned strict beats to every reporter. Not because we didn’t trust their range — but because we were managing resources. We didn’t want overlap. We wanted efficiency.
But Substack isn’t a newsroom. It’s a relationship. And the idea that you need to define and lock down inside your “beat” early to build trust? It’s outdated. So is the obsession with personal branding that asks you to box up your identity in a neat, marketable niche.
Today’s readers are learning to follow voices, not categories. They can tolerate a lot more variety than most writers realize — as long as the writing is resonant, clear and nourishing.
Take it from my years as a content manager overseeing up to 94 blogs at once: the more complex your publishing structure, the likelier you are to fatigue, burn out or draw the wrong conclusions about your writing’s value. Substack rewards substance, not structure for its own sake. Lead with your creative sovereignty at all times.
2. The Most Sustainable Structure Is the One That Fits You
You don’t need color-coded spreadsheets. You need a rhythm that makes sense to your creative nervous system.
For some, that looks like monthly themes — flexible anchors that evolve based on what’s alive. For others, it means writing in seasons, not silos. Letting essays germinate. Looping back to unfinished drafts without guilt.
Structure isn’t about discipline. It’s about repeatability without resistance. The question isn’t: “What’s the best publishing schedule?”
It’s: “What will I actually return to — with care?”
3. You’re Not Broken If Metrics Make You Curl Up Inside
There’s a very real jolt that happens when you move from writer to publisher — from voice to vessel. In my experience, this jolt isn’t a red flag. In fact, it’s almost predictable! Because this neurological transition carries a lot of invisible creative labor.
So if you find yourself resisting analytics or avoiding your dashboard, don’t shame yourself. That might be your body registering the shift from expressive mode toward analytical mode — and it’s worth honoring. These are different functions that require different energy states.
If you want to grow a readership without compromising your voice, learn to toggle with care. Don’t assume discomfort means you’re failing. Often, it just means you’re learning new skills.
4. Edit for the Reader. Protect the Mission.
Editing is where your voice meets your reader’s nervous system.
It’s not about watering down your depth. It’s about delivering it clearly — in a way that can land, resonate and move through someone’s body with ease.
That might mean shortening your intro. Shifting the form. Swapping a long quote for a sentence that carries the same weight, but in your words. You’re not losing control when you edit with the reader in mind. You’re building trust.
I see reader care as a form of devotion. And protecting your piece’s mission — not just its language — means shaping it mindfully with the audience in view.
5. Permission Is a Practice, Not a Mood
I’ve been on Substack for three years, and the only reason I’ve kept writing (and growing) is this: I gave myself permission to start and stop.
I pick up essays when they’re ready. Some stay dormant for months. I don’t publish on a strict schedule. I don’t write in a linear arc. But I stay in relationship with my work — and I stay kind to my rhythm.
That’s what makes it sustainable.
If you treat your writer’s block like a failure, if you push yourself to meet a calendar you didn’t co-create, you’ll burn through your creative trust. Permission isn’t passive; it’s an active, courageous choice. And it’s how you reclaim your rhythm in a world that often demands consistency more than honesty.
6. Not Every Idea Deserves a Longform Essay
Sometimes, the best expression of your insight is a photo, a quote, a list or a single paragraph that sings.
Considering the format of your essay isn’t a superficial task. In fact, I think it helps us touch in with the somatic nature of how readers experience our work. It shapes how your reader feels. And the more you understand how to pair message with medium, the more your writing moves — not just intellectually, but emotionally.
So before you publish, ask:
“How hefty is this hook?”
“Would this land better in a different form?”
“How can I deliver this without weighing it down?”
With editing for your reader, you’re not simplifying your work. You’re serving it.
7. You’re Allowed to Publish Slowly and Stay Seen
I’m not an organizational guru and I’m not here to tell you how to publish to 10x your output. But I do know some basics, start with where my writing lives.
My essays live in Google Docs and choppy notes in my phone. They’re not always neat. But they’re alive. I don’t rush them into containers that don’t fit. And I don’t pretend every season of life will yield the same rhythm.
Right now, as a single mother in the middle of a major life transition, my publishing practice is, shall we say, under construction? But it’s no less real. My voice is still here — steady, intuitive, in motion.
If you’re in a messy or nonlinear season, I want you to know:
You’re not behind. You’re becoming. And you certainly don’t need a rigid system to fix what’s “wrong.” You need a rhythm that listens.
💌 What Comes Next
In August, I’ll be sharing with my paid readers the publishing principles and structures I use to publish on Substack without formulas — the ones that help me to grow here without burning out or compromising my voice. If this piece touched any chords for you, I think you’ll want to be there for the month of August publishing resources.
Until then, take a breath. You don’t need to fix your writing. You might just need a structure that listens.
Want Support?
If you’re ready to build a writing structure that works in harmony with your creative instincts, a Publishing Support Week on Voxer might be exactly what you need.
5 days of async voice/text coaching
Real guidance (not formulas) on audience insights, messaging, segmentation and strategy
Great for moments when you feel stuck — creatively or strategically
👉 Book your Voxer Week here (still at launch pricing)
