An Introvert's Guide to Substack
How I traded thousands of followers for a handful of true connections
I have thousands of followers on Instagram. Videos that went viral. Comments that pour in daily. Yet for the longest time, I’ve felt completely alone.
Insta has become a place where people consume my pain. They scroll through my content about suicide loss, suicide survival, and the work of rebuilding a life. They look, they move on, they doomscroll to the next tragedy. There’s no real connection, just an audience for my grief.
Sound familiar?
If you're reading this, you might be like me: an introvert who craves genuine connection but feels exhausted by the performative nature of most online spaces. You might have followers but no community. Engagement but no real conversation. Visibility but no intimacy.
A few months ago, I decided to try something different. I started writing on Substack.
Substack Isn’t Like Other Platforms
Substack is slower, more intentional. There's no algorithm pushing you to post three times a day or dance for views. Instead, there's space. Space to think, to write deeply, to connect meaningfully.
I launched two publications: the one you’re reading now, where I explore creativity as therapy, and this one where I share my personal survival guides and random little obsessions that bring me joy. I wrote weekly, not knowing if anyone would read, let alone respond.
After a few months, something magical happened.
The Shoestring Traveler
I discovered Adrian Landin, who writes "With Gusto"—stories of traveling the world on a shoestring budget. His About Me will have you hooked immediately. His writing transported me to Cambodia, Thailand, & Nepal. To friendships formed across language barriers. To the kind of adventures that feel impossible from the grief- and PTSD-heavy corner of my world.
Then Adrian shared a heartfelt message: his best friend in Cambodia couldn't afford to send his daughter to school. He said that in Cambodia, education isn't free and that this little girl's future hung on a fee her family couldn't pay.
I donated without thinking twice.
Within a few weeks, Adrian shared photos and info of a beaming girl, ready for her first day.
As a (totally unnecessary) token of appreciation, Adrian sent me a handwritten postcard with a tiny memento from his travels. I call these little gifts from friends’ travels around the world "Happies," because I rarely get mail like this. It was more uplifting than any viral video had ever been.
After the school donation, something even more profound happened. I'd written a vulnerable post about a grief song. It was accompanied by a playlist of the saddest songs that have helped me process my grief. You know, those tracks that somehow contain all the words we can't say, all the tears we can't cry. I shared my playlist: the songs that held my sorrow when I couldn't hold it myself, the melodies that became companions in my darkest hours.
Adrian didn't just hit "♥" and move on like social media has trained us to do. He sent me a message saying that my post had inspired him to created his own grief playlist, with notes about his very personal losses.
Here we were, two strangers who'd never shared the same physical space, trading the most sacred parts of our inner worlds. What struck me wasn't just his vulnerability, but the recognition and the strange comfort of knowing someone else understands that some songs are too heavy to hear, while others are lifelines we cling to.
This exchange became a template for connection. We were simply human beings acknowledging the weight we each carry, using art as our translator.
The playlist exchange taught me something crucial about community:
sometimes the deepest connections happen not when we share our victories, but when we trust someone with our carefully guarded pain. In that sacred space of shared sorrow, we found something that transcended geography, circumstance, and the digital divide.
The Ripple Effect
In recent weeks, other writers began appearing in my comments and in my inbox. Real conversations sparked. Stories were shared. Adventures were planned. Bad days were witnessed, good times celebrated.
I realized I was doing so much more than building an audience. I was finding my people.
Why Substack Works for Introverts
It's opt-in intimacy. People subscribe because they want to be there, not because an algorithm decided for them.
Depth over breadth. One thoughtful comment means more than a hundred fire emojis.
Slow connection. Relationships build over weeks and months of reading each other's thoughts, not minutes of scrolling.
Authentic sharing. The format encourages vulnerability and honesty over polished performance.
Global reach, local feel. You can connect with someone on the other side of the world while feeling like you're having coffee with a neighbor.
How to Build Your Substack Community
1. Start with Your Truth
Don't write what you think will get subscribers. Write what you need to say. Authenticity is magnetic. It draws the right people and repels the wrong ones.
Try this: Write your first post as a letter to your past self or someone walking your exact path. What would you want them to know?
2. Read Like You Want to Be Read
Before you expect people to find you, find them. Subscribe to publications that genuinely interest you. Comment thoughtfully. Restack and share what resonates.
The introvert advantage: We're naturally good at deep listening. Use this superpower in your reading.
3. Master the Art of Substack Messaging
The private messaging feature is where real connection happens. Here's how to use it without feeling like you're bothering people:
When to message:
Someone's post deeply resonated with you
You have a genuine question about their work
You want to share a related resource or experience
You're feeling grateful for their writing
What to include:
Be specific about what moved you
Share a brief, relevant personal connection
Ask thoughtful questions
Offer something valuable (not self-promotional)
Sample message: "Hi [Name], your post about [specific topic] really stayed with me, especially when you wrote about [specific detail]. I had a similar experience with [brief personal connection]. I wondered if you'd ever considered [thoughtful question]? Thank you for sharing so openly."
4. Create Connection Points
Share your reading list. What Substacks are you loving? Why?
Ask questions. End posts with genuine curiosity about your readers' experiences.
Collaborate naturally. When you discover kindred spirits, explore ways to support each other's work.
Be generous. Share others' work. Donate to causes that matter to writers you admire. Send virtual or actual "Happies." Click “Buy Me A Coffee” or “Subscribe.” (If you feel overwhelmed by all the emails, opt out of emails and choose to get notified in the app only. Or create a dedicated email address to receive all those publications.)
5. Embrace Slow Growth
This isn't Instagram. You won't gain thousands of subscribers overnight, and that's the point. Every person who chooses to receive your writing in their inbox has made an intentional decision to let you into their life.
Quality over quantity, always.
6. Use Your Introvert Strengths
Deep thinking: You naturally process experiences thoroughly before sharing.
Meaningful connections: You prefer fewer, deeper relationships.
Authentic communication: You're not performing; you're sharing.
Thoughtful responses: You take time to craft genuine replies.
Observational skills: You notice details others miss, making your writing rich and specific.
What's Possible When We Connect
Here's what I've learned in three months of intentional Substack community building:
A little girl in Cambodia is in school because strangers became friends
Grief playlists became bridges between souls
Solo travelers found companions for their journeys
Writers found readers who truly see them
An introvert found her voice
The possibilities are truly unlimited when we move beyond passive consumption to active connection.
Your Next Step
If you're tired of shouting into the void, if you're ready to trade followers for friends, if you believe there are people out there walking your path who need to find you (and vice versa), start writing. Start sharing.
Write your truth. Read deeply. Comment thoughtfully. Message genuinely. Be generous.
Your people are waiting in the quiet corners of the internet, typing their own truths into the glow of their screens. They're looking for you, too.
What's your first Substack post going to say?
P.S. If this resonates with you, I'd love to hear your story. What's keeping you from starting, or if you're already writing, what connections have surprised you? Send me a message. I promise I'll read every word.
This is the sweetest story! 💜
Mmm, thank you. I feel like this post was written for me. I remember last year, when I started my Substack and wrote a bunch of posts about my gender identity, actual strangers responded to me over email saying they related hard. Now I’ve changed my focus a little and am writing more about mental illness, and still waiting to reach those with whom it resonates. Thank you for the reminder of how special the connections can be on here.