Courage to Grow Your Substack after 50+
And write a book in one week!
Please meet
- the thought leader behind the Author Circle.Q: What's the story behind your Substack?
I started writing on Substack four and a half years ago, back when hardly anyone knew what it was. I moved a small handful of subscribers from my blog and Medium, and just… began. Quietly. Consistently. Week after week. I wasn’t chasing numbers or growth—just showing up to flex my writing muscle.
By the end of 2024, after four years of writing,I had less than 1000 free and a handful of paid subscribers. I was fine by it but I knew I could do more—if I focused.
So I wrote Note a day. In May something unexpected happened. I wrote a note sharing my story and it went viral. In less than a week, 283 new subscribers joined.
Within months my subscriber numbers doubled and it is continually growing.
Q: Walk us through the pivotal moments or experiences that shaped you into the writer you are today.
I didn’t become a writer because I was good at writing.I became a writer because I was bad at it.
Years ago, during a performance appraisal, my boss looked me in the eye and said,
“The only thing standing between you and a senior management position is your written English.”
It stung. But the worst part? I knew he was right. English was my second language. And my Achilles heel.
But instead of letting that feedback break me, I let it push me. I joined writing groups. Took courses. Learned to write reports, minutes, discussion papers—anything that would sharpen my skill. And along the way, I stumbled onto something that changed everything: storytelling.
I realised writing isn’t about fancy words or rigid rules. It’s about connecting. Explaining. Moving people.
So I started telling stories. In resumes. In reports. Even in policy papers.
That shift didn’t just earn me the senior management role I was aiming for. It unlocked a new identity: writer.
Today, I’ve written eight books and coach others to write their own stories—not because I started out strong, but because I had the courage to turn my biggest weakness into my greatest strength.
Q: What's the most courageous creative or personal risk you've taken since starting your Substack—something that pushed you far beyond your comfort zone?
The most courageous risk I’ve taken since starting my Substack was launching my first paid program—the 90-Day Write-Grow-Monetize Transformation.
For years, I wrote quietly, consistently, and mostly for free. I was comfortable there—sharing stories, building community, avoiding the vulnerability that comes with asking for money or claiming expertise.
But deep down, I knew I had more to offer. I had built a system that helped me turn my writing into a business, and I wanted to help others do the same. Still, launching a paid offer felt terrifying.
What if no one joined? What if I wasn’t “enough”?
But I did it anyway—with one honest note and five simple emails to my small list. And to my amazement, fifteen brave creators signed up in five days.
I appeared on the Substack Education Leaderboard #13 first and #11 a couple of days later.
That leap pushed me beyond just being a writer. It made me a mentor, a guide, and a builder of something bigger than myself.
It taught me this: sometimes the real courage isn’t in writing—it’s in believing your work is worth paying for.
Q: For those writers sitting on the sidelines, paralyzed by the fear of criticism or failure, what would you say to help them take that first brave step into sharing their authentic voice?
The blank page used to terrify me—not because I had nothing to say, but because I was afraid of being judged for saying it. I wrote in secret for years: diaries, notebooks, even an anonymous blog. Despite writing since 2001, I couldn’t call myself a writer. I had nothing published, no bylines, no book cover with my name on it.
I was paralysed by self-doubt and a relentless inner critic. I set impossible writing goals, then beat myself up for not meeting them. I juggled a demanding job, raised a family, and slowly felt something in me withering.
Then came the turning point. I bought my domain name to blog under my real name. On the same day, my father passed away. In my grief, I turned to writing like never before—it became my sanctuary. I realised I wasn’t writing for applause. I was writing and publishing to honour my story—and theirs.
After three years of writing on my blog and then on Medium.com. I was writing for so long but still couldn’t call myself an author because I hadn’t published a book.
One morning, I woke up with a voice inside my head which whispered, “Write the damn book.” If there is one thing I have learned in my creative life, it’s to listen to the tiny voice of inspiration. I opened my laptop and got working. I wrote and self published my first book in seven days, that too while giving daily update about my progress on Medium.com
I became a published author and my life changed forever after that tiny act of courage.
If you’re frozen by fear, know this: you don’t need permission or perfection.
You just need one small act of courage.
Listen to the voice. It knows the way.
Q: Reading can be passive, but transformation requires action. What's the most courageous step you believe a reader can take after being moved by something you've written?
The most courageous step a reader can take after being moved by my writing is to act on their creative impulse—to stop waiting for permission, perfection, or the “right time,” and instead, begin creating and sharing their authentic voice with the world.
I understand the fear that comes with this. For years, I wrote privately, filling notebooks and diaries, too afraid to share my words. I even started a blog anonymously, unable to claim the title of 'writer' despite my dedication.
Transformation began when I chose to confront these fears. I started sharing my work publicly, embracing imperfection, and focusing on progress over perfection.
So, if something I've written resonates with you, I encourage you to take that brave first step: write a paragraph, start a blog, share a story. Embrace the discomfort, and let your voice be heard.
Remember, courage isn't the absence of fear—it's the decision that something else is more important. Let your desire to express and connect outweigh the fear of judgment.
Start today. Your authentic voice matters.
Q: There's a fine line between authentic vulnerability and emotional exhibitionism in public writing. How do you navigate sharing your truth while protecting your inner sanctuary?
I’ve learned to write from the scar, not the wound. Vulnerability is at the heart of my writing, but I’ve also learned the difference between processing and performing. When I share my truth, I ask myself: Have I made peace with this? If not, I write it in my journal, not on Substack.
My stories come from lived experience—but with enough distance to offer clarity, not just catharsis.
I share what I’ve learned, not just what I’ve felt. Writing publicly is not therapy; it’s an offering.
I hold back details that belong to others, or to the parts of me still healing. That’s how I protect my inner sanctuary—by keeping a private place where my messy drafts of life can unfold without an audience.
What I share is always honest—but it’s also edited with intention, shaped to serve both me and the reader.
Q: What's the biggest creative or personal risk you've taken through your writing, and how did it change you?
The biggest risk I’ve taken in my writing was telling the truth—my truth. After years of hiding behind anonymous blogs and journals when I couldn’t bring myself to say, “I am a writer.”
But hitting “publish” was transformative. It broke the spell of fear. I realised the real risk wasn’t being seen—it was never showing up at all.
Writing openly—about grief, reinvention, failure—changed how I saw myself. It gave me my voice. It showed me that vulnerability, when offered with intention, invites connection.
That first act of courage led to eight published books, a growing community, and a life built around what I love most: writing and helping others tell their stories.
Q: Reinvention requires dismantling the comfortable cage of who we used to be. For established professionals or thought leaders feeling trapped by their own success but afraid to evolve, what wisdom would you offer about the courage required to start over?
I know that cage well. I spent decades building a respectable career first as a Research Scientist and then as Information Technology manager, ticking every box—until I realised I was quietly suffocating. I had the title, the responsibilities, the steady income. But what I didn’t have was joy. Or space to grow.
Reinvention didn’t come with fanfare. It came with uncertainty, and a quiet voice inside me saying, “There’s more for you.” I started over, in my late 50s, not with a grand plan, but by giving myself permission to be a beginner. I wrote my first book, then another. I built a newsletter. I created a program to help others write and share their stories. I went from “retired” to “reinvented.”
To those afraid to evolve: you are not starting from scratch. You are starting from experience. Let that be your fuel.
Reinvention isn’t reckless—it’s an act of remembering who you were before the world told you who to be.
Q: If you could sit across from yourself on the day before you published your first piece, knowing everything you know now about this journey, what essential truth would you share?
I would sit across from her—nervous, hesitant, staring at the “publish” button—and say gently, “Your inner critic is loud right now, but that voice isn’t truth. It’s fear, dressed up as protection.”
You’ve written for years, in diaries, notebooks, even anonymous blogs. You’re a writer. You got to show your work. That’s what writers do. You don’t need permission, or proof before you could claim your voice.
But here’s what I know for sure: the moment you’ll publish that first piece, something will shift. The inner critic may not vanish, but it will quieten. Because you’ve finally done the thing it said you couldn’t.
Go on, write books, launch programs, coach other writers. In this moment, right here, is the real beginning. Not when you have an audience. Not when you get praise.
Dare To Create despite the noise in your head.
Your courage will lead the way.
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Thanks for the chat, Magdalena. It was fun.
Thanks for this. I'm a 50+ writer on Substack for about nine months. It certainly takes courage to stick with it through all the challenges. ❤️