Here Comes Year Two on Substack
Gratitude. And some thoughts about what comes next.
Dear Readers,
One year ago today, on November 3, 2023, I hit “publish” to send out my very first post on Substack. Exactly one year later, I hit “publish” to send it out again.
My First Anniversary on Substack
I sent out my very first post exactly one year ago, on November 3, 2023. I had no idea what I was doing. I remember how my hand shook as I hit “publish.”
What I intended as a reposting — to be published on my home page, and to be sent to all subscribers by email — went out only to Substack’s social media platform, Notes. Not everyone who reads
follows me on Notes, or reads Substack via the app. This means that while many of you read and responded to this updated version of my very first post in Notes, this post did not show up in your inbox.I apologize.
I want every single reader to know how much I value and appreciate you.
“Life, the Universe, and Everything plus a rainbow equals . . .” is a story written after losing my husband to cancer after 43 years of marriage.
It’s a story of the unexpected ways that grief opened my heart.
I have always been a writer. I’d published some things, and earned an MFA. Writing brought me tremendous joy. But things happened. I was interrupted.
One year ago, I sent out my first post on the Substack I named “Writer, interrupted.” I had no subscribers, no online presence, and had never been paid for my writing.
Today, I am thrilled to say that after my first year on Substack, this community includes more than 2,500 wonderful, engaged subscribers. Many have decided to show that they value my work by choosing a paid subscription. This means the world to me. It gives me the dignity and pride that comes with earning an income from my writing. It allows me to continue to hit “publish” to send out only my best work.
In March, five months after that first post, I was honored by the brilliant poet
with what Substack Writers at Work author Sarah Fay calls the “pinnacle of achievement”: a Substack Featured Publication award.
What a joy it has been to engage with this extraordinary community of readers. You lift me up and inspire me to keep going.
You’ve shown me that interruptions don’t last forever.
I hope this continues to be true.
The last few weeks have been among the most difficult of my life. They’ve been hard for many of you as well. I don't rank one person’s sufferings or challenges over anyone else’s pain. We are a community. Our work as humans is to care for one another.
I read, follow, and subscribe to many writers on Substack. I am continually astonished by the high quality and the variety of work on this platform. My “categories” — Substack makes you choose from a fixed and unfortunately limited list — are literature and fiction. Most of the work I send out consists of personal essays.
I write a lot of poetry, and publish some of that here as well. There is a movement afoot to establish a poetry category. I don’t know how a petition might be framed. Rhymed couplets? A villanelle? (“Rage, rage, against the dying of the light” might work as an inspiration, and not just for poets). Throw in a few em dashes, and I will sign it in a heartbeat.
Fiction: yes. Mostly short stories and flash. I don’t publish it here because I want to keep a firm boundary between fiction and memoir. It is a matter of trust and integrity. If I decide to publish fiction, it will be clearly marked as such.
My reasons for not posting on this site recently are many. I am not going to claim writer’s block; in fact, I have been writing too much. Some days, I spend nearly all of my waking hours in front of my keyboard or on my phone. I’ve developed the terrible habit of taking my laptop to bed with me. In fact, I am in bed right now. It’s 5:31 a.m. I’ve been writing all night, all evening, and most of the day.
Substack is many things, but it is not a good bed partner.
I will end here by letting you know that I have not been unproductive. Four posts are simmering on the stove. One is in the oven, and another’s cooling on the counter. There’s one in a colander in the sink; I’m trying to drain out the last bit of sourness before setting it on the table.
In making up for lost time, I will try not to flood your inbox.
And now I need some sleep.
Wishing you peace,
Mary xo
Every time you share, comment, or hit the ❤️ below, more readers are able to see, read, and enjoy these posts. And it warms my heart.
Please tell me what you think! And join a vibrant community.
Writer, interrupted is a reader-supported publication. None of my content is paywalled. If you believe — as I do — that writers should be paid for their work, please consider a paid subscription. It takes a great deal of time, effort, and love to create these posts. Your financial support enables me to continue sending them out to you.
Take a long breath . I need same. I’ve been writing off and on for years . Rarely shared on media . Just with a few trusted friends . Some well known writers . All of whom sans BS ( I’ve a fine tuned antenna to smell ) insist I’ve got talent . 6 months ago I joined Substack. It’s become a tad too obsessive. Instead of writing. I’m reading others and right now responding to you. Lesson this morning. Slow down I will. Put my cell , iPad and lap top on hold along with a story I was about to dig into. Header. The Princess Playboy &I. Sub head We’ll Always Have Paris.
It’ll wait …. Thankyou for the support! Jenn
Pondering, processing, wondering, writing. You are not alone, Mary.
When you look out the window between the hours of 2 and 4 A.M. Pacific Time, one of the lights in the sky is mine.