ADHD Edition: Success in 100 Days (95 Days - Waiting was Excessive)

The possibility that there is another way to following all the rules.

Success on Substack. What does that even mean?

Subscribers? Views? Paid subscribers? Followers? Likes? Validation in comments?

I’ve genuinely no idea.

Ninety-five days ago I joined the digital world having never used social media before. And there were rules for success on Substack. Lots.

**Post once a week.**

**Write thoughtful notes five times a day.**

**Be consistent.**

**Stay on topic.**

**Find your niche.**

**Don’t be random.**

**Maintain professional image.**

**Engage strategically.**

**Build a funnel.**

**Optimise your growth.**

By the time I’d finished reading the advice, I’d forgotten all of it.

The good news.... I followed absolutely none. In fact, I’ve broken them all and done so pretty magnificently too.

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Have I been successful? I don’t know.

What’s the benchmark for someone starting 95 days ago from nothing with the attention span of a banana?

I’ve not had an article with more than 75 likes – and I’ve restacked the hell out of it.

I’ve never had a note go viral – unless 60 likes counts (since publishing my post on Larry the Cat has 3.5k likes.)

I’ve never cracked the mysterious algorithm that decides why one post about existential despair gets ignored while another about “open tabs” gets shared 10,000 times.

Most viral posts are completely random to me. The majority I don’t even get it.

So by internet standards, I guess I’m failing spectacularly.

Yet...

I have 513 subscribers. (Now 663)

1,182 followers (Now 1,598)

12 paid subscribers (Now 23)

And 9,697 views in the last 30 days (Now 11,885)

I’ve hit #93 in rising Health and Wellness. And the next day I leap-frogged the legend Jane Fonda and found myself #51.. (Since publishing highest place #45)

And including this I’ve now written 69 articles.

I took one article a week and turned it into a Monday to Friday daily job with the weekend off.

Does that make it successful? Again, I’ve no idea.

Is success having 5,000 subscribers because a note went viral or is success writing an exceptional piece of work that only three people saw.

I know which is true success to me.

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Nothing I do is planned.

I spend most of my time in DM’s- or posting on as many notes as I can.

I read as many articles as possible - and try comment thoughtfully - not because that’s the rules - but because someone took time and effort to write something meaningful to them - the least I can do is take a few minutes to comment on it.

I’ve been random.

I’ve been inconsistent.

I’ve written about ADHD, anxiety, addiction, abuse, trauma, grief, life, work, things that annoyed me, things that made me laugh, and occasionally whatever happened to be bouncing around my brain at 02:47am.

I don’t have a content strategy.

I have a content impulse.

I have no idea how people with ADHD do it – stay consistent, never random, post once a week on cue.

I’m famously bad at staying in any lane. Tell me to focus on one topic and suddenly I need to write about seventeen unrelated things immediately - and trust me, I will.

The advice says people will subscribe to you because they know exactly what they’re getting.

My subscribers must open their inboxes (well the 25% that do)... thinking:

“Will this be ADHD? Addiction? Anxiety? A life lesson? A rant? A story about a kangaroo? Who knows?”

Frankly… neither do I.

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I’ve also discovered something else.

People unsubscribe to me. Quite a lot actually - everyday. Ninety-Seven now in total.

I’ve stopped trying to work it out.

Sometimes after a serious post.

Sometimes after a funny one.

Sometimes one that gets decent engagement.

Sometimes after one that gets none.

If you try - like I have – and spent life trying to understand why people do what they do, I’ve discovered the internet is an excellent way to finally accept that you’ll never know... anything about anything.

Someone subscribes.

Someone unsubscribes.

Someone disappears forever.

It’s basically the stock market but with feelings.

I had to disabled the email from people who unsubscribe because my inbox was giving me a complex.

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I didn’t come here with a two-year content plan.

I came here because I enjoy writing.

I write about the things that interest me or my lived experiences.

Sometimes I don’t even know what it’ll be until five minutes before.

I publish when I feel like it.

Sometimes people like it.

Sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes I gain ten subscribers.

Sometimes I lose five.

Sometimes a post that is really deep, meaningful and important to me gets totally ignored.

Sometimes something I publish like a silly poem gets a good response.

I’ve learned that nothing makes sense.

The experts don’t.

The algorithms don’t.

And I certainly don’t.

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So my entire strategy has become:

Write.

Publish.

Have fun.

Engage with the small community of great people in your circle and never lose sight of them.

Promote those people.

Have more fun.

Repeat.

For an ADHD person, that’s probably the biggest lesson. The world is full of rules about how you’re supposed to do things.

Sometimes rules are useful.

Sometimes they’re just someone else’s way.

Rules were made for the cohesive machinery of order. They were never made for the likes of me – and not through rebellion – just being who I am – I’ve never followed them.

I’ve spent 95 days proving that you can ignore most of them and still build something worthwhile and meaningful.

Sure, I have no idea exactly what it is, and I’m hardly setting the substack world on fire, but who cares.

But I think I’ve done alright and it’s not because I think I’m clever.

Not because I’ve cracked some formula.

But because showing up as yourself turned out to be a relatively effective strategy for me.

Even when yourself is wildly inconsistent, easily distracted, generally chaotic, and incapable of staying on topic for more than three paragraphs.

Actually, especially then.

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