Posting a Little Too Much

a self-diagnosis

I am definitely posting a little too much lately, in the sense that I’m sure it’s annoying some of you, or maybe it feels a little relentless, like I’m just following you around and throwing more shit in your inbox all the time.

This is, to some extent, by design: I’m about halfway through trying to post 30 times in 30 days, which I have done before. And part of the point of this exercise is to feel less bound by the (real or perceived) expectations of a (real or perceived) audience. I want it to be okay for me that I can lose people, okay that the subscriber numbers will go up and down, okay that some people will be like, “what the fuck are you talking about.”

Thank you for sticking with me, I truly appreciate everyone that’s coming along. Next week there will be some more ambitious writing that I’m excited about sharing.

At the end of this spree, I am going to calm down a bit, but not by that much. I think I’m going to shoot for a cadence of 4-5 posts per week, one paywalled. By the end of this year, I’d like Substack to be at least 50% of my income.

But some posts, like yesterday’s, almost feel designed to throw people off. Like what am I doing there, is the question I asked myself, as I hit publish. Why this? I had a suggestion, from my friend Uri, that I write about some inanimate objects poetically—like, say, tamarind pulp—but I didn’t have to follow it.