Looking Back on One Year on Substack
Successes, Disappointments, and Plans for the Coming Year
Collage Painting by Jim Cassell. I used this painting for my first post, so it seemed fitting to use it again for this anniversary essay.
A year ago, I opened the Substack app and wrote my first post. At the time, my goal was to get my writing out there, something that had become increasingly difficult to do on traditional outlets. The topic I picked, cancer, was in recognition of the profound effect my mother’s untimely death has had on my life. Several years ago, I started writing about cancer for publications such as Cure Magazine and Cancer Today to deepen my understanding of the disease and to reach out to an audience always looking for more information. This work has helped me come to terms with my mother’s death, and writing the Substack has been a way to rekindle memories, which has made me feel closer to her.
After one year on Substack, I am pleased to report that I have realized my goal of both writing about topics that are important to me and publishing my essays for the Substack community. I have pushed myself to think of interesting topics and have written about caregiving, Tatiana Schlossberg’s cancer journey and death, prostate cancer, and hormone replacement therapy (HRT). The HRT story was suggested by a Substack reader, whom I’ve gotten to know through Substack. We talked over Zoom as I was working on the post. Meeting new people and getting to know them has been an unexpected joy of writing for Substack.
I also have conducted three interviews, two with my sister-in-law and one with my cousin. My sister-in-law is in the midst of a complex cancer journey for stage 4 colon cancer. Her treatments include a combination of chemo and surgery, and it has not been easy. I’m in awe with how well she’s handling it.
My cousin has been dealing with cancer for more than 30 years. What began as breast cancer evolved into many kinds of cancer, including bladder and head-and-neck cancer. I knew about most aspects of her cancer saga, but sitting down and hearing it all spelled out in one sitting was very powerful. In fact, another unexpected joy of Substack has been sharing stories like these that have moved me and finding that they also resonate with my readers. I didn’t anticipate how excited I would feel to receive notes, compliments, suggestions, and questions from readers—even those I don’t know—who have been touched by my work.
A much more difficult part of the first year has been building my subscriber base. One of my goals is to add to my numbers, and I started experimenting with a couple new strategies. I’m trying to post more often and respond more frequently to posts I read on the site. Greater exposure seems to help, so I’m working on that.
I also have reached out to Substack’s robust cancer community. Most of the members of this community are survivors and oncologists. Unfortunately, I haven’t made much headway with this group. I’ve wondered if the reason why is that I’m not a survivor, even though my life has been affected by cancer in profound ways. I see myself as a fellow traveler, someone who has watched numerous loved ones embark on their own cancer journeys. My mother, my husband, my cousin, my sister-in-law, and numerous close friends are all part of this group. Thankfully, most have survived, but unfortunately, not all of them.
I’m also paying attention to which posts have attracted the most readers. My most recent post, about remembering my mother on Passover, was successful, as was the essay about my cousin’s complex journey. I have to say, though, that I was surprised about what turned out to be my number 1 essay, “Paint Hamden Pink: Raising Awareness about Breast Cancer.” This essay is about a local grassroots organization in Hamden, where I live. Through a friend, I have become involved in the organization, which holds an event in late September to mark the start of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. My role is to write promotional materials and work with a committee to help plan the event. Because it’s a small, local organization, I thought the post would mostly interest Hamden residents, but more people than that have found the post compelling. Almost 400 people read the essay. I would love to know who you are.
What’s puzzling is why there is such a large disconnect between those who read the essays and those who subscribe. I invite all those readers who have read my essays and learned something from them to take the next step and subscribe. A robust list of subscribers helps raise writers’ visibility on Substack, one of my goals for the upcoming year.
Speaking of future essays. I’m planning to continue on the path I have laid out. I will conduct more interviews with survivors, and I’m hoping to talk with some oncologists as well. I also will write about cutting-edge discoveries that have the potential to change people’s lives, an aspect of cancer care that I have yet to explore. Since my story about Paint Hamden Pink drew such a large audience, I would like to find other such organizations to write about.
I’m looking forward to my second year on Substack. With the insights I’ve gained, I’m hoping to reach more people looking for information and insights about cancer.
Hi, Marilyn—
I have a dear friend and choral director (for a women’s chorus I’ve sung with for more than 30 years) whose Cancer Journey might be of interest to you. I don’t know whether she would be into sharing her journey publicly (haven’t asked her about this!) . . . but she is such a positive, upbeat person, that if she’s willing to share with you, her story would be an uplifting one for anyone who’s lived with cancer.
You and she share your early-career environment in the Washington, D.C., metropolitan area, as well as the decision to move elsewhere (though for different reasons and to different areas). She has taught voice and sung professionally for decades. While in the D.C. area, she also sang with the Washington Opera, directed choirs at her church, sang the lead in several community theatre operas, and co-founded a small professional women’s vocal ensemble, as well as directing Philomela, the women’s chorus I sing with (for more than 30 years). She has since moved several times and is currently in NJ, a professor at Westminster Choir College (now a part of Rider Univ.).
Her Cancer Journey started around 30-ish years ago, in her reproductive tract, necessitating an early hysterectomy and early menopause. Her first recurrence was while she & her husband were in Kansas City for several years. That time the cancer showed up in her colon, if memory serves. It has recurred several more times, since, and she’s currently under treatment for a second time in the past 5 years, via immunotherapy, which has had less-difficult side effects than most chemotherapies.
Her numerous recurrences of cancer finally led to a diagnosis of something called Lynch Syndrome. (I wondered about the person you mention in this post who has had many recurrences—whether she might also have something like this syndrome.) As a Singer, my friend has had to figure out how living with cancer affects her Instrument: her entire BODY is her instrument, and anything that affects ANY body system affects the Voice & vocal apparatus.
That’s all I can tell you about my friend’s story, other than—as earlier mentioned—she has the most positive outlook imaginable, and approaches life from a loving, giving, generously sharing perspective. She continues to inspire the young singers she teaches, encouraging them toward their careers in music performance, vocal pedagogy, etc. And she certainly inspires us members of Philomela. We are all “Ladies of a Certain Age” by now—but she still teaches us something in every rehearsal (not to mention having to drive 5 hours or more, each way, for every rehearsal).
So if you, Marilyn, are interested in following up this particular Cancer Journey, I’d be happy to put you in touch with my friend. Of course, it would be up to her whether she wishes to take such a contact any further, or whether she even has time!
Best wishes to you, either way, Marilyn! I’ve enjoyed reading the couple of your posts that found their way to me. And I’m glad you’ve found this particular writing series helpful in processing how your Mother’s illness and early passing affected you. I did enjoy your piece on the Passovers she orchestrated, leading into understanding ways you honor her by celebrating that holiday in your own style, allowing it to “morph” as your life shifts.
You’ve helped me realize that some odd little habits I’ve adopted are actually ways I’m honoring each of my parents and what they gave me while they were still with us (things like certain turns of phrase or rhymes from Daddy, that I use when talking to my cats; or like a little purple comb Mom kept in her purse as a Pink Lady volunteer at the local hospital—using it for 1 of my cats—I tell her we’re honoring “Grandma” by still using her comb, and that it’s an honor for this kitty to get to use “Grandma’s” purple comb).
Hi Marilyn, I look forward to the second year on Substack! I enjoyed your look back in the mirror. Kind regards, Julie.