When it comes to writing here on Substack, I think we have to realize that many of us are chronic overthinkers.

We obsess over the words. We obsess over the meaning. Then we obsess over how people will receive what we’ve written.

But the thing I have to keep reminding myself (because it takes an embarrassingly long time to get through my thick skull) is the same thing I’ll tell you:

No one on earth cares about what you’re doing quite as much as you do.

No one is sitting around analyzing your posting rhythms and patterns. If you normally post on Thursday and then miss a Thursday and post on Friday, nobody is clutching their pearls. There isn’t a tribunal of accusers waiting to cancel you because you posted one too many Notes.

Today, someone reached out to tell me how much they were blessed by an essay I posted this morning. And all I could think about was how much time I wasted yesterday debating whether I had the right to post a short-form essay when people are used to me posting long-form essays.

No one cares.

I do. But no one else does.

And that’s what makes it so funny.

People are busy living their own lives. They’re looking for what you have to offer as something that might encourage them, comfort them, challenge them, direct them, or help them keep going.

The reality is that every piece you write will be for someone, and it won’t be for someone else.

Every single essay I write costs me subscribers. Usually at least a handful.

When I first started, that discouraged me. Now I realize that most of the time people are simply tired of getting so many emails.

Your post appears in their inbox and they think, “Here’s something I can unsubscribe from.”

They click the button, get a tiny hit of satisfaction from making their inbox a little cleaner, and move on with their day.

That’s fine.

We’ve all done it.

But you’re not writing for the people who are cleaning out their inboxes.

You’re writing for the people who desperately need what you have to offer.

That’s what makes it worth it.

You don’t write for the many. You write for the few.

And the beautiful thing is that with each piece, you never know who the few will be.

So eventually you stop trying to control the outcome.

You sow the seed.

Then you trust the Spirit to carry it to the right soil.