How to Grow your Substack Subscribers

First, find a pot...

“Do you know what, Biscuit?” I sighed at the end of another day, as I watched the last customers at the Dragon’s Teacup disappear down the path out of the village. “It seems to me that more than half of our visitors here only come to tell me that they have the secret to growing my subscribers.”

“There do seem to have been a lot of people offering top tips recently.” Biscuit acknowledged thoughtfully. “But I like the way we’re doing things already. Subscribers will grow in their own time, I suppose. The ones we have are already more than we ever dreamed would come to see us.”

“That’s very true.” I said with a fond smile. “I’m happy with our ‘grow-your-own-subscriber’ approach.”

“That makes them sound like little seedlings!” Biscuit chuckled as I turned the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. I grinned and collapsed onto a sofa to let my feet rest for a few minutes.

“I’d love to see that set of instructions.” I grinned. “I’d be much more likely to follow those rules.”

“First, find a terracotta pot for your subscriber…” Biscuit began in the tone of an instructional video.

We love giving you room to grow here at The Dragon’s Teacup. If you would like to help keep us in cake and compost, please consider a paid subscription or buy Biscuit a cup of tea!

“Consider the eventual size of your subscriber.” I continued, chuckling. “And choose a pot that will allow them plenty of room to grow.”

“Next, fill the bottom of the pot with something substantial to allow drainage.” I added, letting my head fall back on the sofa cushions. “Broken up pieces of archived posts can work well if you don’t have any gravel to hand.”

“Then add soil.” Biscuit took over the narrative for me. “Preferably something light and nourishing. Mashing up all your best posts into a fine powder is perfect.”

“Then take your subscriber seed and press gently into the pot.” I added. “Place 2.5cm beneath the surface so that the seed is completely surrounded by your writing and sheltered from the harsh weather of other social media platforms until Spring.”

“Place the pot in a sunny spot, maybe an armchair in a cosy library or a window seat with a view of the river.” Biscuit suggested. “Water liberally with tea and mildly entertaining notes about life, the universe, and everything.”

“Feed regularly.” I said firmly. “That’s an important one. Feed them well and often. Mainly on cake, some biscuits.”

“Definitely not Fish, Blood, and Bone!” Biscuit agreed, his face twisting in disgust. I pulled a face back at him.

“Yuk, no.” I declared. “Cake, and lots of it. Then leave in peace until green shoots are seen sprouting from the soil.”

“Once grown enough, remove from pot and plant on a sofa or in a shady spot in the garden, depending on subscriber preference.” Biscuit moved on quickly.

“Refresh soil with new posts regularly.” I nodded approvingly. “Ensure soil doesn’t become too acidic, use sarcasm and irony sparingly.”

“Oh?!” Biscuit complained. “But we quite like sarcasm and irony, we’re British! How will we be passive-aggressive without sarcasm?”

“Passive-aggressive? Us?!” I said, pretending to be scandalised by the very idea. Biscuit rolled his eyes. “We’ll just have to struggle on with our stiff-upper lips and our subtle dressing-up of strongly held political views as whimsical, cosy-café-based chats, won’t we?”

“So we’ll keep the sarcasm-levels in check to avoid too much acidity in the soil.” Biscuit agreed and I gave him a bolstering smile.

“And if they do get too high, we’ll just add some extra dragon to keep it sweet.” I told him. Biscuit flushed and looked pleased.

“And then we just need to make sure they have the right sunlight, space, and cake for them to blossom.” Biscuit sighed, content that we had completely played out our metaphor as far as we could. I nodded and looked at the ceiling, searching for cracks in the plaster and also in the allegory. I scrunched up my lips as I thought about whether I should dust the cobwebs around the ceiling rose or just let the spiders maintain their little civilisation for another day or two. I doubted they’d develop weapons of mass destruction in that time. They’d only been there long enough to build a proto-democracy, if I were any judge.

“They also need duck pictures.” I announced after enough silence had passed to make Biscuit wonder what I was going on about.

“Duck pictures?” He asked, confused.

“Duck pictures.” I confirmed flatly. “I post notes all the time, have done for a year now. Every carefully considered, cautiously worded note that I’ve spent time crafting has gained me about 20 likes, at most. Then I posted one photo of a lovely duck I met and it got hundreds of them! Subscribers like duck photos.”

“Then we’ll give them duck photos.” Biscuit determined and I nodded purposefully.

“Okay then.” I clapped my hands down on my knees in the internationally recognised sign for ‘I’m definitely about to get up and do something’. Biscuit looked expectant as I fixed a pointed stare on him. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?”

“Is it time to nourish some seedlings?” He asked with a faint hint of sarcasm.

“No.” I said flatly, getting to my feet. “It’s time to take some of the acidity out of this stinging nettle.” Biscuit sucked in a breath of mock-concern.

“You’ll be needing extra dragon for that.” He stated as he flapped his way to my shoulder.

“I think it will need all the dragon you can spare.” I told him and kissed the top of his scaly little head as I went to make tea.

Thank you for reading! Do please help yourself to a pot and bed in if you’re enjoying your time here!