The No-Nonsense Guide to Experimenting on Notes

And the unforeseen results of a 70-day Notes Boost challenge

Photo by AbsolutVision on Unsplash

I Didn’t Go Viral. I Did Something Better.

It began with a whisper of curiosity and a quiet dare to myself: “What if I posted a Note every day for 70 days?”

Not to go viral.

Not to chase followers.

But to see what might happen if I actually followed through with something—daily, publicly, imperfectly.

Spoiler: I didn’t become famous.

I became proud.

This is not a story about algorithms or hacks. It’s about experimenting with consistency, making new friends, and waking up to the quiet magic of keeping a promise to yourself.

It’s about

Sarah Fay

’s Note Boost Challenge—a Substack initiative that invited writers to share a daily Note—and how it unexpectedly rewired my habits, relationships, and even how I moved my body.

What Is a “Note” Anyway?

For the uninitiated, a “Note” on Substack is like Twitter’s calmer cousin. It’s a short post, often no more than a few lines, designed to spark conversation, reflect on something small, or amplify someone else’s writing. Notes are raw, quick, low-stakes—and that’s precisely their power.

Sarah's Note Boost Challenge took this tool and turned it into a collective experiment. Writers across the Substack universe committed to posting regularly. The prompt wasn’t “go big or go home.” It was “show up and be seen, heard, and collaborate.”

The Science of Micro Habits: Why Daily Notes Worked

Behavioral scientists like BJ Fogg and James Clear argue that tiny, consistent actions are the key to long-term change. Fogg’s model, in particular, focuses on anchor habits—existing routines that can be used to build new behaviors. I didn’t realize it at first, but Notes became my anchor.

Every morning, I’d ask myself: What’s today’s note? That question did something wild—it laced itself to a movement habit. I didn’t just write. I walked, stretched, or did ten minutes of yoga. Notes became the cue. Movement was the reward. The writing wasn’t separate from my body—it was because of it.

Neuroscience backs this up; dopamine, the motivation molecule, spikes not just when we’re rewarded—but when we anticipate reward. My brain began to crave that click of “publish” because it was paired with the endorphins of a short walk or gentle stretch. I wasn’t just becoming consistent. I was becoming conditioned.

I Thought I’d Become More Disciplined. I Became More Connected.

Something else happened—something I didn’t see coming.

People replied.

They cheered me on. They laughed with me. They shared their own walks, their own stuck moments, their own tiny breakthroughs. Notes, I realized, are not miniature essays. They’re lanterns. And when you hang one, someone else might light theirs too.

I made friends—real ones. Not the transactional “follow-for-follow” kind, but the “how’s your dog doing?” kind. Writers from Australia, Canada, Europe. One told me she started doing yoga again because my note nudged her. Another said my messy kitchen selfie made her feel seen.

This, I thought, is what we mean by community. Not a crowd. A circle.

The Unforeseen Results: Awe, Pride, and Permission

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about committing to something small: it changes how you see yourself. Each Note was a breadcrumb. Seventy breadcrumbs became a path. And that path revealed a version of me I didn’t quite know yet—one who follows through. One who shows up. One who walks, writes, and listens.

One morning, around day 43, I paused mid-stretch and realized: I’m proud of myself. Not because the Notes were brilliant (some were downright goofy), but because I did what I said I would do. That pride wasn’t loud or performative. It was quiet, cellular. The kind that seeps into how you sit, how you speak, how you say yes (and when you finally say no).

And awe—that too arrived. Not just at others’ kindness, though that was abundant. But awe at myself. At how simply I could shift my identity. Not through reinvention, but through repetition.

This Was Never About Going Viral

If you’re looking for growth hacks or “how I gained 10k followers with Notes”—this ain’t it. My audience grew, yes, but more importantly, so did my intimacy with that audience. The comments got deeper. The messages got more heartfelt. One reader said, “I feel like I’m walking beside you.” That’s what Notes can do.

What’s more: the challenge made me braver in longer essays. Notes acted like a creative warm-up, the verbal equivalent of dynamic stretching. I’d take a rough idea, drop it into a Note, see how it landed. Some Notes blossomed into full posts. Others stayed fragments—but still mattered.

What I Learned (And Why It Matters)

• Consistency is not punishment—it’s permission. By choosing one small thing and doing it daily, I gave myself permission to matter. To try. To fail with flair.

• Tiny habits change identity. I didn’t just write Notes. I became someone who writes Notes. That identity shift bled into other areas: movement, mindset, and confidence.

• Low-stakes content invites high-stakes connection. When I stopped trying to be impressive, I started being real. And people responded to that.

• Experiments need constraints. 70 days. One Note per day. No skipping. Those boundaries made creativity easier, not harder. Constraints reduce decision fatigue. They’re scaffolding, not shackles.

• Motion is a muse. I can’t tell you how many ideas landed mid-walk. Moving my body moved my thoughts. Writing became embodied. Ideas breathed.

The Practical: How to Start Your Own Note Habit

1. Pick a trigger: Link it to something you already do—morning coffee, post-shower, end of a walk.

2. Keep it short: One idea. One paragraph. One truth.

3. Make it joyful: Use Notes to play, not perform.

4. Do it in public: It builds accountability and invites connection.

5. Tie it to movement: Even five minutes of walking can create momentum.

Final Note: The Challenge Is Over. I’m Just Getting Started.

I no longer have to post a Note every day. I get to post a Note every day. The habit has stuck, like muscle memory; so has the pride. The friendships. The sense of awe.

We often underestimate what small actions, done with heart, can do to our lives. This 70-day Note experiment didn’t make me a better writer. It made me a truer one. And a better walker. And a more joyful human.

So here’s your call to action—not to post daily (though you might), but to try one small thing. One tiny commitment that feels both doable and delightful. Pair it with something that brings you joy. Watch what happens.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find yourself in awe of what you’re capable of—not because it went viral, but because you did it.

That’s enough.

That’s everything.

And it all starts with courage…

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