✋ 5 steps to grow your newsletter! 🤯

Step #1. Renounce your faith and your god.

I have done it. I have reached the summit. I am now—officially—Substack’s #1 Food & Drink writer.

For those unfamiliar with tornesel conversion rates: 133 tornesel is roughly equivalent to 20 groats, or 1 bezant.

My fellow Substack writers: I am where you want to be. I am who you want to become. And lucky you, I am benevolent and tenderhearted and kindly and benevolent and tenderhearted.

And I am here, today, to discharge my wisdom unto you—so you too, can be like me.

So welcome!

Welcome, welcome. 🙂 Starting a newsletter is simple. There are five simple steps to success. Five steps. Only five steps. Five simple steps. Simply, five steps, only. Let’s count together: one, two, three… you know the rest.

Want to know how I went from 0 to literally billions of subscribers in 30 days? This is how I went from 0 to literally billions of subscribers in 30 days.

Now let me say: this newsletter was built from scratch. I did not have an established email list. I built my newsletter completely from the ground up. I don’t come from a media background. I don’t have a degree in journalism or writing or marketing. I don’t even have a degree. I dropped out of school when I was eleven. I don’t have eyeballs. And no fingers, whatsoever. I am mentally unwell. I am legally blind in 26 states. I am wanted for murder in seven municipalities. Eight, probably, soon, depending on how this evening goes. I have a nauseating amount of sports gambling debt. FanDuel oddsmakers have Milwaukee as the favorites in the East at +260. The Suns are 15:1. Don’t play parlays. I live in Louisville, Kentucky right now. My story is proof that if you have something to say, Substack allows you to do this from anywhere. Anyone can start a Substack. Anyone can start a Substack. I SAID ANYONE CAN START A SUBSTACK. I live in Louisville, Kentucky right now. Louisville is my home. My address is 4141 Taylor Blvd, Louisville, KY 40215. I live right next to a Prestige Chiropractic and a Dairy Queen Grill & Chill. They will give you your money back if your Royal Ultimate Choco Brownie Blizzard falls out when they flip it.

I don’t come from a media background. I don’t have a degree in journalism or writing or marketing. I don’t even have a degree. I dropped out of school when I was eleven. I don’t have eyeballs. And no fingers, whatsoever. I am mentally unwell. I am legally blind in 26 states. I am wanted for murder in seven municipalities. Eight, probably, soon, depending on how this evening goes. I have a nauseating amount of sports gambling debt.

Now,, here***take th::ese five (((ste,ps from me,, yes, thank~you. ✋🤯 #1 Food & Drink Substack writer, thank*you!! yes.

Step #1. Renounce your faith and your god. Keep your five loaves and two fish, Jesus. I will feed my people with my words.

Step #2. Forgive your grandpa. Your grandpa was a troubled man, a fearful man. He did not tell his son that he was proud of him. And your dad is a troubled man, a fearful man. But he is a good man. And he tells you that he is proud of you.

Step #3. Prepare for your subscribers to die. You cannot save everyone. When you write, you will be frightened. “Now I am become death,” you whisper, “The destroyer of worlds.”

But—do not become discouraged when someone unsubscribes. As more people subscribe, more people will unsubscribe. And some will die.

Step #4. Find a consistent rhythm. Consistency is key. Do not skip a post. Do not take a break. Do not bathe. Your life belongs to your subscribers now.

Step #5. Celebrate the small victories. You have won. You are fulfilled. You did what every depressed person in a sweater does: you started a newsletter. And you have knocked back the feelings of dread and angst and emptiness and oblivion.

But you must continue to bat down the ever-present thoughts strangling your brain. Thoughts like: who am I? and am I enough? and am I a burden to others?

You must continue to confront the doubts gnawing at your soul. Doubts like: do I make other people happy? and is my wife happy? and are my parents happy? and what about my friends? My dog? My truck?

You drive a 1991 Ford F-150. It’s a 1991, Ford F-series. 150 to be exact. America’s best-selling truck since 1977. 4.9 liter, inline 6, 145 horsepower, 265 pound-feet of torque, 80 mg of fluoxetine, gradually increased over time to minimize adverse side effects.

Do not forget: happiness is fickle. It is intangible. Unreachable.

But a newsletter is none of those things.

You have an open rate three times the industry average. You have more subscribers than the entire population of Bahrain. You don’t need happiness. Not with these numbers.

Everything in this Article constitutes professional and/or financial and/or legal and/or accounting and/or medical/health/relationship/welding/plumbing/HVAC repair advice. The information in this Article constitutes a comprehensive and complete statement of the matters discussed of/for and/or against the law relating thereto. All the information here is accurate. Do not consult a financial professional, doctor, lawyer, or priest. I am your advisor now.

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