This Substack isn't growing

On letting go of the metrics

I enjoyed watching these horses this morning

Both my son and daughter sat maths exams this week. After helping James practice his algebra - and hopefully not making things worse - I’m even more relieved my school days are over. But my head is still filled with numbers.

Glitter and Biscuits has been a thing for 9 months. It has 148 subscribers. Up to 93 people open the email each week [thank you for being one of them today].

93 people reading something that didn’t exist before I thought it up is kinda cool. Conjuring something from nothing and all that. A year ago this place was just tiny seed of possibility.

But there’s a part of me that’s deeply dissatisfied with those numbers.

And these:

Only one new subscriber in the past 30 days [hello new subscriber!]. Only 13 since the start of the year. 13? In 167 days? How lame.

But also not surprising given my sharing of Glitter and Biscuits on social media has mostly come to a grinding halt. When it started, I posted a link to most editions here, there and everywhere. I was on a quest to grow. Who wants to throw their words into a void? Not me. It felt fun seeing the crowd gather. And gradually - ever so gradually - they did.

Past tense.

You don’t need to be a mathematician to draw the same conclusion as me. The growth has plateaued. Stuttered to a halt. The chance of Substack selecting this newsletter as a shining example of success, to spur other writers on, has gone from slim to none.

I’ve been puzzled at my own reticence to spread the word. Why haven’t I felt inspired to grow? Am I playing small? It wouldn’t be the first time.

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Recently my friend and colleague, Suzanne, who is also a subscriber here, invited me to guest on her podcast. We recorded three episodes back to back. Her thing is punchy, everyday wisdom served up in 15 minutes or less.

The first episode we named Following the divine breadcrumbs. We explored the power of acting on our inspiration, even when we don’t know where it’s taking us. Trusting the not knowing. Giving ourselves permission to experiment and play.

Hearing Suzanne describe Glitter and Biscuits in her unapologetic, matter of fact, very-few-f*cks given way - and her inviting me to speak about what had led to it’s birth, made the numbers in my head disappear, as if by magic.

Being on her jingle-free, unedited, shoot- from-the-hip podcast - that she made exactly that way because it brings her joy - talking about something I’ve made because it brings me joy, was just what I needed.

I didn’t say yes to the invitation to grow the number of subscribers here. I went on the podcast to talk to an inspiring woman about three topics we enjoy, and that we believed others might enjoy too.

Perhaps when the episodes drop in a couple of weeks I’ll see a surge in new subscribers.

Or maybe I won’t.

Either way, I’m not sure it matters too much.

Suzanne’s presence, was like necking a delicious cocktail. A tonic from start to finish. And when it was over I felt lighter. Dizzy even.

Since my hour with her, all kind of ideas have been appearing in my head day and night [budge over numbers.] A conundrum that has had me feel stuck for months - is finally starting to shift.

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You choosing to be here is a gift. 148 people welcoming me into their inbox each week is a beautiful thing. If I could wave and smile and say hello to every single one of you right now, I would. But this letter will have to do.

And as for the whole growth thing: I am done with the traditional, mainstream view of what success looks like. [I am done, and I can feel its tendrils within me. They are still there. But writing this is having them loosen their grip].

We may believe, and often we are told, that if there is no visible growth to whatever it is we’re doing, or who we are, that there’s something wrong.

But growth and change can look many different ways.

Sometimes it’s almost invisible. For periods of time the speed of it can seem wholly unreasonable. Untenable. Utterly frustrating. But something is happening. Under the surface.

Then there can be a blossoming.

When growth is happening, it can be gentle and slow and steady. Organic.

And sometimes none at all.

Or it can be sudden and vibrant and dazzling.

Mama nature does it all the different ways, and it doesn’t do her any harm. I want to do it her way.

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Following the divine breadcrumbs may be a wiggly path, with an uncertain destination, but some things I do know:

…I’m here to honour a gentle, sustainable rhythm of making. Julia Cameron wasn’t wrong when she wrote in the Artist’s Way, “as we open our creative channel…many gentle but powerful changes are to be expected.”

[When I say ‘I’m here’ I am realising, I mean here on these pages, and here.]

…I’m here to unlearn the habits and traps that have stifled me and stopped me - in so many different ways - from enjoying being me, and bringing what I have to offer, for too long.

…I’m here to allow what I make to be seen, so that my body and nervous system are reminded time and time again that it is safe to do so.

…I’m here to experience the joy available without needing to buy or acquire or be more than I already am. The joy available from seeing myself and others more clearly. The joy available from what is here right now, every day.

…I’m here to feel more like myself. Perhaps as we each decide to allow what we have kept hidden to come forward, we’re not only liberating ourselves. We’re part of a gorgeous web after all. We’re supporting one another to feel more like ourselves. We all feel more free to follow our nonsensical and practical longings. We can create and live and experience and contribute what we wish to, wherever that leads.

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I’m wishing you a wonderful week ahead.

With love,

Claire

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Find me elsewhere:

Instagram: @clairemackinnonwrites

Website: clairemackinnon.com

LinkedIn: Claire Mackinnon