When the Algorithm Finally Decides You Exist

Seven Things That Helped Me Start Posting Notes

Most of my writing happens exactly like this — in the middle of everything, hair up, laptop open, trying to catch a sentence before life pulls me into something else.

And it’s from this same place that I’ve been learning how to write Notes — which has not come naturally to me. As a writer, I don’t write one clean line and call it done. I expand. I develop. I follow the idea all the way to the end. I qualify everything before I even make the point.

Notes have value, though. They build connection in ways a long piece can’t, and they’re more absorbable simply because they’re shorter. When I first tried to get into Notes, I felt a little daunted. How was I supposed to cut myself down? How do you reduce everything you want to say into something that fits the medium? That question alone stalled me.

But as I’ve been learning and experimenting, a few things have helped:

1. You probably already have more material than you realize.

Most writers don’t struggle because they have nothing to say—they struggle because they have too much to say. I go to write a Note, and suddenly I have five paragraphs. Instead of fighting that, I’ve started cutting out a few sentences and letting them stand on their own. Those lines were already written; they just needed to be separated from the whole.

2. You can post Notes in clusters, and Substack actually works better that way.

This was the part that frustrated me the most. I wanted to say everything in one place—one moment, one thought, one note. But the reality is that if you pack everything into a long Note, fewer people will see it. Notes are built for shorter bursts, so when you split a bigger idea into smaller fragments, they’re actually more likely to be seen and can become little openings that invite people into the conversation.

And as a bonus, learning to distill our words—to choose one clear thought at a time—is a skill that serves every writer. Substack unintentionally becomes a tool that stretches us and grows our craft.

And don’t forget, you can stagger your Notes throughout the day. I probably should… but for now, I just rapid-fire them first thing in the morning. Maybe I’ll change that eventually, but this rhythm works for me right now.

3. Working with the algorithm felt insincere to me, until I reframed what was happening.

I’m someone who cannot post a single word if something feels off. My authenticity alarm goes off instantly. At first, the whole “engage to be seen” thing felt manipulative. But the more I’ve stayed here, the more I’ve realized this is simply how community works—online or not. Notes function like a room. People only know you’re in the room if you show up.

Discovery happens through presence. Reading, liking, responding, subscribing—these aren’t tricks, they’re simply how humans participate.

4. Most of my creative life has existed in secrecy.

For years I’ve written privately—journals, essays, outlines, story drafts, and what I now realize were full manuscripts that never saw the light of day. Writing in secret is a real part of being a writer. The quiet space forms you. It gives you clarity.

But I’m in a different stage now. I’m choosing to share more of what I’ve created, and more of what I’m currently creating, even if it feels vulnerable. That takes courage, especially when engagement can be unpredictable. But I’ve learned that words don’t find their fullest expression until they’re seen and received by others. And Substack, when used well, really does function like a support group for writers—something I’ve quietly needed for a long time.

5. Your value is not determined by engagement.

This isn’t a sentimental line; it’s something I have to remind myself of constantly. Engagement matters because it encourages growth and connection, and yes, hopefully moves you toward the dream you’re building. But engagement is not identity. It doesn’t define your worth or your talent.

And shortcuts don’t create the kind of long-term alignment your writing actually needs. I see so many people here apologizing for not doing more, not being further along. I want to say gently: creativity requires energy, and energy has limits. We create, we rest, we live our actual lives. All of that takes time, and none of us can do it all.

6. Know your scope and remember your purpose.

I’ve taken the marketing courses. I know the advice: “Stick to your niche.” There’s truth in it—when people skim past a certain kind of post, it teaches the algorithm to skim too. And I hate that, honestly. I understand why it works, and I know I could lean into it strategically. But I also know myself well enough to recognize that if I forced everything into one narrow lane, I’d lose my voice in the process.

I’m not here to build a Substack about Substack. I’m here because this platform genuinely feels like a community I want to support. And in real life, I don’t live in a single lane anyway—I write across three: faith and identity, family resources, and practical tools. That’s who I am, and that’s the shape my work naturally takes. You’ll see different combinations of those threads depending on the day.

So, while niches might help with reach, freedom helps with creativity. And the more freedom we give ourselves to write what we’re actually called to write, the more we create.

I want this to be a place where your voice gets to stay whole, not trimmed.

7. A small reminder from Instagram about real people behind big numbers.

I’ve mostly stepped away from Instagram, but I still follow a few people whose content has encouraged me. One woman I’ve watched this year went from 200K to 3 million followers. She’s not in my writing lane—more on the health and lifestyle side—but she’s genuinely kind. I would occasionally comment on something small, and over the past few weeks she’s actually been messaging me.

It completely surprised me. Here’s someone far beyond capacity, and yet she’s choosing to interact in a very human way. It reminded me that no matter how much someone grows, people are still just… people. Everyone appreciates kindness. Everyone appreciates being seen. And sometimes the smallest interactions matter more than we realize.

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At the end of the day, we’re all learning as we go. We’re learning how to write in public without losing the depth that matters to us. We’re learning how to let some thoughts remain in private while others stretch out as long as they need. We’re learning to trust the natural rhythm of creative energy—and the limits that come with being human.

And we’re learning to show up—not perfectly, not in the ways algorithms prefer, but as people. As writers who care about words and the ones who read them. As a community figuring out the balance between creating in the quiet and sharing in the open.

If you’re navigating all of this too, I’m glad we get to be in the room together.

If you haven’t yet, I would love it if you filled out this anonymous survey to hear your real questions, frustrations, and the things you wish someone would explain clearly about this platform. I update this series continually based on what you share.

Here’s where we’re headed:

Part 1 — Notes (Bonus: If Real Life Worked Like Substack)

Part 2 — Restacks (Using Your Archive & Bringing Old Work Back to Life)

Part 3 — Subscribing (Starting From Zero When Your Network Is Tiny)

Part 4 — From Lone Writer to Connected Writer (What Makes A Great Community?)

Part 5 — Writing in a Library, Living in a Feed (The Creative Paradox)

Part 6 — Becoming the Writer You Didn’t Know You Were Becoming (The Development Paradox)

Part 7 — The More You Give Away, the More You Grow (The Growth Paradox)

Part 8 — Becoming a Writer People Pay (The Marketing Paradox)

Important note if you’re new here:

Subscribing gains you the singly monthly digest by default.
If you’d like the weekly posts too, I write in three lanes — family, spiritual reflections, and the writing community — and you can individually select which ones you want.
Just adjust your email settings and choose your lanes.

Feel free to share how you’re needing support right now, or anything you’ve discovered on your own journey with Substack.

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Bonus: If Real Life Worked Like Substack…

Here’s a tongue-in-cheek guide to Substack, based entirely on imagining how chaotic it would be if these features happened in real life:

1. Restacks

Imagine if people could grab one of your old moments, hold it up, and say, “Let’s bring this back into the chat.” That’s restacks.

In other words, restack for: boomerang energy, flashlight moments, and the classier side of good gossip.

2. Notes

Imagine if the sentence you scribbled on a napkin in a café somehow made its way to every table. That’s notes.

In other words, post a note for: quick pings, half-thoughts, and the friendly chaos that makes this place feel alive.

3. Subscriptions

Imagine if people showed support by tapping your shoulder and whispering, “I’m with you—keep going.” That’s a subscriptions.

In other words, subscribe for: good taste, questionable boundaries, and a healthy attachment to your writing.

4. Recommendations

Imagine if your aunt kept introducing you to strangers she swears you’ll love. That’s recommendations.

In other words, recommend for: thoughtful curation, gentle matchmaking, and widening someone’s circle.

(This one isn’t intuitive. I update it every month or so, noticing who keeps showing up with presence and generosity.)

5. The Algorithm:

Imagine if the crowd only turned toward you when everyone else did first. That’s the algorithm.

In other words, work with the algorithm for: visibility bumps, human patterns, and the ripple effect of attention. Because underneath the mystery, it’s mostly psychology—the same way people look up just because everyone else is looking up. And like humans, the algorithm is distractible, moody, and occasionally delighted for reasons no one can explain.

Thanks for walking through this with me — the real, the practical, and the slightly unhinged. I’m cheering for you as you write your way forward.

— AJ