All Hail the Model

A new method made my job easier and more productive

Forgive the self-indulgence but I figure that sharing what works for me could be helpful for some other people out there. Also, this interview about HoS with Substack co-founder Hamish McKenzie provides a peg for the topic. Hamish asked me some questions about strategy and time management, but I wasn’t exactly cogent in response. The issue was that, back when we had the conversation, I’d yet to fully commit to something I’ll call “The Model.” Since arriving at The Model, my work week has gotten fuller, but also, paradoxically, easier. As I’ve so often found in my life, structure brings freedom.

What is The Model? It’s pretty simple: Two written posts and two podcasts within the week. I narrate my written posts as well, but that endeavor is less creatively demanding, so it’s easier to summarize the job as “2 posts, 2 pods.” If I make it to Sunday night having completed this task, then I have succeeded (though I prefer to meet the goal by Friday). Not only do I feel good about completing the task, but also more justified in my business. I get that $9 a month is pricier than some other newsletters, but few are putting out multiple articles, podcasts and narrations every week. If I can do all that under one umbrella, it’s differentiating beyond the content itself.

Since implementing this system at the beginning of March, the site has seen steady subscriber growth, despite an absence of any particular big hit article. I used to be too reliant on such wonder strikes, both financially and emotionally. Some of this might be related to how working at The Athletic wired my brain.

The Training

Overall, my time at The Athletic was extremely valuable preparation for dealing with the vicissitudes of subscription life at Substack. I’ve noticed that some other writers really struggled after jumping to Substack from prestige outlets that were ad-supported. They’d been used to not having every article tabulated according to its financial haul, and the pressure that comes with such specificity. The Athletic was a startup, based on the subscription model. We didn’t need Alec Baldwin’s speech in Glengarry Glen Ross to understand that, yes, this was do or die. We’d either produce, tangibly, or we’d be fired.

A lot of businesses are like this, of course, but writers usually aren’t accustomed to seeing it all laid out so obviously. The system was great, in many ways. Incentives were mostly aligned with doing quality work, the kind of work worth paying for. But when you were slumping on “subs” you really felt it. Or at least you did until you’d gained an understanding that this was temporary and that you’d work your way out. This is a long way of saying that, before Substack, I’d been through all this, and built up necessary callouses, thanks to The Athletic.

But The Athletic was just a bit different than Substack in terms of institutional incentives. Back then (I don’t know what it’s like now), emails went out to congratulate writers on “home run” posts that had earned a certain level of subs. It was hard not to swing for a home run, especially since we were given “sub goals” for the year, and a massive piece went a long way toward achieving that standard. This setup would often have me daydreaming about the “grand slam” article that might hit my sub goal in one fell swoop and take the pressure off me for months. Remember, I saw only how many subscriptions my articles earned. I was spared any sense of churn from people unsubscribing.

Life at Substack is different. I’m accountable for the whole business and am aware when people are churning out due to inconsistent posting. Yet I was still wired for the home run and prone to delays because I wanted a 5,000-word banger. I was all the more motivated to do so because my Nike’s End of Men essay had been a viral hit. Counter to conventional wisdom, larger pieces have a better shot at being shared widely. A long essay connotes ambition, especially if it can actually deliver. Fewer people write long these days, so it can also stand out. The problem, of course, is that you can spend a lot of time trying to harness all that writing into a package that actually works.

Home run seeking was an issue even before the birth of my second kid, when there was more time in the day. After my latest was born, this tendency really started to undermine me. With time and sleep shortened, it was easy to fall off schedule. Holding out for a large article often meant a total absence of routine or pattern. Some of the delays yielded questionable choices. For example, this piece on the NHL’s lurch towards the social vanguard is pretty comprehensive, but it could have been shorter and more focused.

Since implementing The Model, I still write long, but more in that 1K-2K word range. One benefit is that readers are more likely to finish a post, which has led to more feedback. I’m not, as a rule, opposed to writing longer, but it had better happen organically. I’m no longer chasing the home run dragon.

1 Pod, 2 Pod

Then there was the matter of the podcasts. What the hell was I doing with these? I knew I enjoyed them, and understood that many of my subscribers did too. But how often? What was a good schedule? The most successful pods out there tend to come out every weekday and this was obviously impossible. Once a week seemed quite attainable, but if a guest cancels last-minute, then your week is shot.

The two-pod model isn’t exactly easy because I need a booked guest, every time, but it’s doable if I know that’s what I’m doing. And that’s more or less the point of this post. If you go in knowing what your benchmarks are, you’re capable of more. Since I know I need two guests every week, I work harder to book people in advance. On Friday, I try to have my bookings for the next week totally solidified.

It sounds stupid that I didn’t think this way before, but prior to benchmarks, it was so much easier to simply focus on whatever was right in front of me. I’d send the occasional email out to an industry friend, and make a few requests of big-time media people, but there was no sense of routine. I figured, foolishly, that as long as I was working hard, that’s all I needed to worry about. Turns out that having a definable goal is just as important as working hard. The definition allows you to know how hard you have to work.

Putting two podcasts out allows me to make one free and paywall the other one, as I believe some other creators do. That’s a nice mix and what I hope to do with the written posts as well (though I retain the right to paywall at will). I’ll also add that I mostly post podcasts right after producer Anthony Mayes is done with them. I used to fiddle around with releasing podcasts at the most optimal time, and timing does matter, but not enough for me to delay. The more you wait, the more likely the subject material gets overshadowed or confounded by some new happening. Firing away immediately is best, I’ve found, and there’s no draining decision-making involved.

Now that I’ve grown more comfortable with the podcast posting schedule, I see a big advantage in doing the episodes that I hadn’t previously noticed. To explain with an example, I’ll mention that I booked Sarah Hepola, whose memoir on blackout drinking was a massive success. Booking her means I need to read the book, which is a total pleasure, but it can be hard to set time aside for reading if you’re swamped. So now I take in subject material I might not ordinarily and hopefully get more knowledgeable from the experience.

If you’re learning, you’re growing. The idea is that my research on upcoming guests safeguards the writing side of this site against getting stale. To name a few examples, posts on HoS have been informed by concepts gleaned from Luke Burgis’ book on mimesis, Chuck Klosterman’s book on the Nineties, and Tyler Dunne’s book on tight ends. I think it’s really easy for someone who writes on cultural topics to become almost algorithmic in focus, especially when chasing subscriptions. Having to prepare for guests, especially writers, helps me avoid a rote pattern. Or, as Luke Burgis might put it, it helps me become anti-mimetic.

The Loose Model

My embrace of The Model has allowed for similar applications beyond this site. For instance, I need to get in better shape after getting sedentary when the baby arrived. Recently, I’ve elected to try for 100 full-length swim laps, every week. This is a tough goal for me because I’m a pretty bad swimmer, but I love the combination of a solid benchmark and a flexible approach. If I had to swim every day, I would burn out and quit. If I just wanted to “swim more,” I would eventually find reasons not to go. Having the 100 goal keeps the pressure on to manage my week with that number in mind, but not in a way that feels oppressive. It’s a loose model, and for whatever reason, I’m a loose model kind of guy.

I’ll just close by saying how much I appreciate the longtime subscribers for riding out this journey with me, and saying hello to the new ones. It’s been so gratifying to connect with people over this Substack, absent a filter beyond my editor’s sensible advice. Thank you for supporting this independent media site, even through inconsistencies and slapdash methodology. I hope that my adoption of some goddamn structure better allows me to do right by that support.