An email changed my life

A love letter to Substack

A month ago, I said goodbye to my role at Substack. Like every writer, podcaster, video maker, and creative publishing here, my job was born out of a single email.

On a fateful Monday in August 2019, I sent an email to Bailey Richardson, Kevin Huynh, and kai sotto. I wince re-reading it now, the subject “Question from a Student Author” and signed “To a purposeful adventure, Katie.” I’d get coffee with Bailey a month later, start working with the team at People & Company seven months after that, and join them in the next chapter at Substack a year later, almost to the day.

It’s an email that wrote me into the job at People & Company and the one to follow at Substack — jobs that didn’t exist and the email conjured into being. Fast forward three years and ten months, I’ve watched thousands of people who are serious about their ideas write themselves new futures on Substack, sending emails.

I had a folder in my inbox entitled “battle cry” with stories Substackers sent me over the years about how publishing here transformed their lives in ways they didn’t know were possible — landing their dream job scoring a film, funding their art studio, becoming a bestseller at 70, meeting someone who became their best friend, signing a book deal, and receiving $5,000 from a founding subscriber who got to have a hard conversation with their family for the first time because of a post they published. Many of these people weren’t writers, musicians, or artists trained in the traditional sense or boasting large followings. They were simply people who were serious about their ideas and had the courage to keep showing up to them, and to share them.

If Substack taught me one thing it’s that sharing what you care about is the way you can be an agent of change in your own life. Who you share it with and how matters.

I believe the most important technology right now is simple — so simple we often forget it’s technology at all. It’s pianos, notebooks, and decks of cards. It’s dinner tables, classrooms, and corner coffee shops. It’s phone calls, text messages, and emails. It’s human language and the tools we’ve built to make it move in spirit, space, and time directly to other people. No middleman, algorithm, or ad you have to fight with to say what’s on your mind. With these tools, we start to craft the stories that we live in.

On my first day at Substack, before I logged on to start my job, I wrote myself this mini manifesto to serve as a guide.

Charge forward in the pursuit of a clearer narrative.
A story of connection to people, places, and ideas.
Don’t confuse movement for progress or stillness for balance.
Give superpowers to the weird, the curious, the unheard, and the quietest parts inside of you.
Give what you can — your time and attention.
Ask yourself: What is mine to do?
Write often, words cast spells.
Sing daily, music is your meaning.
Study what’s magical, it doesn’t come together by magic.
Make together, it’s better that way.

Rereading it now I see the many ways in which these words quietly served as my north star. As I embark on this new chapter in my nine to five and participate on Substack from the other side with you all, it feels more relevant and alive than ever before.

If there is an idea you care about, and you’ve been shy about it, consider this your sign. Tell someone in an email. Tell us on Substack.

Memories <3

There’s a lot of work I am proud of during my time at Substack, but I am most proud of who I did it with. You can see the smiling faces of some of my teammates and community members above!

You can learn more about highlights from my work at Substack in this amazing write up by Gareth Wilson and an interview on the Get Together podcast.