six month retrospective
Well Actually hits a mini-milestone, and I have a few "well, actually's" to spare
WELL, ACTUALLY…
It’s been six months since I started yapping away on Substack. Six months of unhinged rants peppered with Taylor Swift lyrics. Six months since I hit publish for the first time, feeling nauseated at first and energized immediately after. And, what better way to commemorate the half birthday of my passion project than to share some actual “well, actually’s” about the Substack?
WELL, ACTUALLY…
Substack has been a playground for me to find my footing in a craft notorious for being challenging. While it certainly has been challenging, it’s also been fun as hell. I continue to be up for the challenge, of course, but I stay here for the fun.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
My original mission here was to simply write about what inspired me. I identify as a “person with opinions on everything”, and true to that sentiment, I’ve explored a wide range of topics via personal essay—feeling my way through style, millennial nostalgia, friendship dynamics, euphoric travel feels, weird a$$ books (tbh SO MANY thoughts on books), my wake playlist, a love of birthdays, every day feminism, etc. The list is still growing, making it harder for me to define this space at times. But, there is beauty in the undefinable—the grey area is actually (lol) the space where I can explore and experiment and not feel constrained.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
I titled this space as a nod to the kid I once was in anticipation of triumphantly realizing just how far I’ve come from being her. I assumed such a monumental amount of growth that I doubted I could even recognize the kid I once was. [Insert another lol here.] I just came home from a trip to my hometown for my high school reunion, assuming the same thing. Surprising absolutely no one except myself: despite a lot of growth, I’m still that know-it-all kid who is kind of bossy and also an idealist and a dreamer. I’ve always been the former and the latter, but so often I really just want to be the latter without the former. You know? It’s humbling and quite funny to realize that both versions have always been there—they’ve just evolved in different ways. This space continues to help me embrace that “bossy” part of me, because I can still clearly recognize that kid I once was.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
Fear can be the body’s way of telling you to do something anyway. Outside of true preservation instinct in the face of actual danger (which is very real and very valuable and not the type of fear I’m speaking of today), fear in moderation has been a useful feeling to my growth as a human. The fear of calling myself a “writer” and sharing my writing elicits a feeling of “I’m scared,” but I do it anyway. This feeling is present every time I hit “publish.”
WELL, ACTUALLY…
Writing is and always has been the way that I process and learn and experiment and find joy. Until recently, the product of that passion has lived in leather-bound journals or tucked away word documents I’ve never shared with anyone. Sharing my words and connecting with people through them has been rewarding (which I expected) and radically joyful (which I didn’t). So, maybe on the other side of some types of fear is joy, or at the very least, satisfaction you did the thing, took the risk, shared the words. For me, there’s also a certain amount of pride in overcoming whatever inner critic I had to quash in order to even start a Substack. There’s a snowball effect of doing one thing I fear and realizing it’s not that scary (or if it is actually scary, it’s still something I can and want to overcome), and then I’m inspired to do more of the scary things. Courage begets courage. Joy begs for more joy. Etc etc.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
Part of the fear of writing, which I’ve come to realize most writers feel, is the absolute certainty that no one will care about what you write (which is almost always not the case), or, even worse, you will not have anything important to say (which is definitely not true). In showing up weekly to this space, I have proven to myself that I definitely always have something to say, and it’s always important to a degree, even if mundane or silly. And before you are scandalized by my massive ego, I’m not saying that I am sooooo important. What I’m saying is the discourse is important. Everyone has a story to tell, and this space is my attempt to add another voice to the larger conversation.1
WELL, ACTUALLY…
I am nothing if not consistently and enthusiastically opinionated and simultaneously surprised and flattered anyone would take my opinion. And, for that reason, I’m glad you’re here. “Opinionated” is not always a lauded characteristic by others, but it’s one I personally assign a lofty value for both myself and others. I love hearing other people’s opinions, preferences, thoughts, and perspectives. Tell me why you prefer dark chocolate over white. Tell me what you think is the best album of all time. Tell me your thoughts on your city’s use of taxpayer dollars. Tell me everything. As I tell you my everything, know that I am simply delighted to put something out in the world even if only a handful of people read it.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
It was rare, I was there, telling you what shoe to wear, and whether to put an oxford comma there. Opinions are unadulterated fun, and unadulterated fun is rare, which is why I would like to give you the highest of compliments: if you’ve read anything I’ve wrote, you are creating pure fun for me.
WELL, ACTUALLY…
Thank you for being here.
What I find so fascinating about Substack in general is the writers with small followings, like myself. I’ve connected with so many lovely humans who write beautifully—making an impact without having 100K instagram followers and a book deal (though, some will say that’s their ultimate goal, and that’s okay too). It’s a welcoming open platform.
Loved this (& so feel it): Surprising absolutely no one except myself: despite a lot of growth, I’m still that know-it-all kid who is kind of bossy and also an idealist and a dreamer. I’ve always been the former and the latter, but so often I really just want to be the latter without the former. You know?