I’ve started a few new things for paid subscribers lately, and whether or not you noticed, I thought it might be helpful to share a bit about my behind-the-scenes thinking in deciding what to share with everyone and what goes to people who have upgraded their subscriptions. This conversation may or may not interest you, but let me say: this is much more than an informative essay about how I use Substack.
Beneath the floorboards of our decisions lie our values. The how and why of what we do go hand in hand. So whether we are doing dishes or making spreadsheets or composing symphonies, our work is defined by not only what we produce but also the ways we go about doing it.
Whether you recently found your way here or have been around since my Life in Blue days (remember when I did the mom blog thing?), here are the practical pieces that are good to know: at Human Together, I create both free and paid offerings1. I also provide complimentary subscriptions to anyone who asks2, because I do not want money to be a barrier or for a reader to feel left out. I do not want to close a door on anyone who wants to be part of the conversation.
So while “free” and “paid” are the labels Substack attaches to these different types of subscriptions, I view these categories more through terms of engagement. When you opt in to upgrade your subscription (whether you pay or use a complimentary trial), you tend to be more engaged. You want to connect differently or more often with either the content or the creator. You have interest in the subject matter or the stories or want to support the work. Whether or not you use your actual dollars, you have buy-in, so with that in mind, I want to make sure what I’m offering to this smaller group of subscribers has substance that I do not offer widely to the masses. (Okay, not actual masses, but relatively speaking.)
Here’s where it gets tricky and why I think a few more words might be helpful: As a writer, I consistently feel a tension between wanting to be generous with my work and not giving everything away for free. This push-and-pull gets especially weird because I write often about faith and spirituality, which many categorize as ministry and putting a price tag on work related to life with God can get complicated fast.
But I don’t think generosity and charging for your work have to be mutually exclusive. Yes, both can have their extremes, but with discernment, I believe they can walk alongside one another.
Generosity is openhandedness, and openhandedness can work both ways. By not holding too tightly to what is placed into my palms and not grasping for things beyond my reach, I resist the tangled web of striving, to which this chronic overachiever is incredibly prone. By allowing a return for my work and not bending to the “commodification of the self,” I embrace a gentle resistance against a consumer culture that threatens to turn us all into Veruca Salt, where we expect everything to be fast, easy, and free.3
Many people might question: Why don’t you just make everything free? Wouldn’t that be the most generous option? And for some people, that might be true. We would all do well to consider our motivations and pay attention to whether our decisions move us toward more or less of an open hand. But for me (who has a tendency to devalue what I bring to the table), attaching dollar signs to a portion of my work is a way for me to live out the belief that what God put in me is good. My work has worth. So while putting up that “paid subscription” option initially produced a measure of anxiety, it also became an act of trust. It became an invitation for me to stand beside our Divine Creator and exhale, “It is good.”4
And also: my work is not for everyone. I want to create a wide-open door, but I do not expect everyone to walk through it.5 However you found Human Together, your part in this gentle resistance is embracing the freedom to decide the best way for you to interact. You alone can know the rumblings of your soul and noisiness of your inbox, whether “best” for you is to stay where you are, opt in for more, or to go. You are the only one who knows what’s lurking beneath the floorboards, and if I can offer any sort of invitation in all of this, it would be to let yourself pause and take a peek.
But I hope by sharing a bit of the why of what I do here, it shines a little light on the thoughts guiding the how. Because, for now, this is the best way I know how to be openhanded. It is the best way I have found to allow others to support my work (and let’s be real: pay the bills) while softly refusing the urge to grasp for more.
The free subscription includes standalone essays and some personal updates, and the paid features include quarterly essays series, extended Human Together podcast episodes, and monthly book club.
All you have to do is email me at sarah@sarahewestfall.com. That also means that if you’re currently a paid subscriber and find yourself in a situation where giving financially is no longer possible but you still want to engage with the paid content, you can also email me and request a comped subscription period. We will work it out, no questions asked.
Kaya Oakes used this phrase “the commodification of the self” in a recent Substack essay: “Did it again and again and again and again and again and again: Hey I wrote another book and you can preorder it.”
A callback to Genesis 1 and 2. I think about this part of the Bible narrative often, especially as I untangle my worth from my work.
Lore Wilbert has some really great insights on this posture, which she shared in episode 2 of the Human Together podcast. Extended episodes are here on Substack, but the regular ones are available wherever you typically listen to podcasts.
Thank you for sharing. I feel like you did a good job explaining all of that. And I agree, your words matter and have worth.
What is in the human together podcast?
I constantly wrestle with this, too. Why should writers do all their work for free? But shouldn't everyone have access to it? I'm still toying with a resolution, me with my two paid subscribers lol.