Me? Grow?

If you were to ask me what my alternate career would be, I would not have an answer. If given the option to go back in time and choose a different major, I would probably still choose journalism — but not in a let’s-save-democracy sense. Two Trump presidencies saps the idealism right out of your brittle bones (I mean, god save the free press, of course).

I would stick with journalism because I can’t imagine a scenario where I am not a writer and editor — despite the occasional daydream about being filthy rich. I like to imagine doing things like “boating” or “enjoying a walk-in closet” or “not still owing money on a 2021 Mazda.”

But here we are: Unfortunately, I love to write. And the time has come that we do a little jig called The Subscriber Drive. Because we have goals to meet and health insurance to pay!

Last week, writer Alicia Kennedy broke down how she makes money. She explained how freelance work from publications has dried up, how book advances are paid out, and what her newsletter and workshops bank. I was thrilled to read this, and it got me thinking about how I’ve been (de?)valuing my own work.

(BY THE WAY: If you don’t already subscribe to Alicia’s newsletter — DO IT. She is the type of firm writer whose work makes you sit up, roll the concepts around in your own mind, and get some thought-crumbs lodged into your memory. And she seems to have a cool-ass wardrobe. I’m a fan!!)

Launching this newsletter has been a passion project, but it’s also very much a job. I freelance for about four or five different publications and organizations on a regular basis, with a few other one-offs that come and go. I’ve never worked harder than I have as a freelancer, so writing this newsletter twice a week has been no small additional lift.

If you’ve ever freelanced or dabbled in the gig economy (your alms have been paid, go straight to heaven), you understand that time is money: Every hour I spend researching, writing, and editing this newsletter could be spent working my freelance jobs. But producing the Hater’s Guide is scratching a really deep itch — and I dare say the response has been pretty great so far. It turns out there is a desire to learn things from a bonafide clown!

Before I ever launched the Hater’s Guide, I took a six-week creator journalism workshop (info on that here!); I occasionally meet with an accountability partner (hello and THANK YOU, Keren!); I pay a monthly subscription to host this newsletter and its related payment platform; and I’m planning to work with a designer friend to whip the site into shape. That’s all in addition to the time spent actually creating each letter that does a sexy little dance to your inbox twice a week — along with the self-flagellation that happens when I notice typos.

This is all to say: Very real work goes into making the Hater’s Guide. Yes, Hating comes naturally to me, but nurturing and presenting that hate takes resources.

I am launching my very first subscriber drive, alongside dozens of other independent media creators. I will urge you to check out their newsletters and subscribe to the ones that appeal to you.

As for my ask, here’s the deal:

• If you are a free subscriber at this time, please consider upgrading to paid! My goal is to get 10 new paying subscribers this month.

• Whether you are a free or paid subscriber, please share this newsletter with your friends, family, softball coach, grocery bagger, pastor, dog trainer, and the guy who collects metal scraps in your alleyway! I’m aiming for 50 new subscribers (any tier) this month.

My short-term goal is to make enough money through this newsletter to pull back on some of my freelance work. My long-term goal is to buy B-52s singer Kate Pierson’s cabin in the Catskills.

I have shirked at paywalling my content so far, feeling weird about the idea that my time, energy, and talents (lol) could possibly be worth your money. I’m still holding off on a paywall (for now), but I am willing to admit that what I do is worth your forking over some clams.

While writing this newsletter, I actually texted my friend Anna, who has been self-employed for years as a yoga teacher and structural integration therapist (she is an angel). I was curious to know how she has handled asking folks to open their wallets. 

“I think for me, the hardest part about asking for money at all is it feels embarrassing to need it in the first place? It makes no sense,” Anna said. “Like, sorry I need money to live.”

So with that: Help me live!