8 Questions for... Rebecca Hooper

between two seas

Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash

Rebecca Hooper is a writer and evolutionary biologist with a PhD in animal cognition. From her house in the north isles of Orkney, tucked between the steely North Sea and the wild Atlantic, Rebecca writes about life and death, land and sea, science, art, and finding joy.

1. Why Substack?

My Dad mentioned Substack to me just as I was switching careers from academia to writing. He follows some of his favourite authors here, and thought I'd enjoy the platform.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with social media (which is what I thought Substack was) — in principle, I didn’t want social media in my life, but in practice I found it very hard not to use it. So, having finally deleted most of my social media accounts, I was wary of jumping onto a new platform.

When I did decide to have a poke around Substack, I realised it was nothing like other social media platforms. In fact, I’m not even sure I’d call it social media. I think I’d call it a community of artists, really. A place where passionate, creative, talented people come to discover and support one another. It was just what I needed (and still need) — somewhere that would uplift and challenge and expand.

I feel like I’ve found my flock here… introverts who are chronically confused and fascinated by the world, finding solace and power in creativity and community.

2. How long did it take you to find your groove?

Oh, I’m not sure I have! I started posting weekly when I started between two seas in September last year. I decided on weekly posts because I knew I needed a routine (I tend towards chaos without one), but to be honest I wasn’t entirely sure what I would write about. I just wanted to write regularly about whatever I found interesting at the time.

My first post was about my love for all the dead bodies that wash up on the remote Orkney island I live in, as well as my relationship with death as an evolutionary biologist. I didn’t expect such a dark piece to click with readers, but it turns out the Substack community loves a bit of darkness. Which does not shock me at all now I know the community better, but at the time it was a surprise!

I still write about whatever is on my mind in any given week, and while generally my pieces fall into the categories of nature, philosophy and politics, I think the newsletter can perhaps feel a little groove-less because I don’t stick to a topic. All this to say, I guess I am still figuring out my groove — or, at least, becoming more comfortable with being a groove-less species of writer.

3. How has it changed you?

Writing on Substack really has made me value my own voice. I’ve always found it extremely hard to take up space, to feel okay about sharing my authentic self. Without getting too deep into the weeds, I was a selectively mute kid who felt uncomfortable in my skin for a very long time. Connecting with other people was always hard. I often felt like I spoke a different language to others, and in the end I learnt to speak a language that wasn’t natural to me just so that I would fit in. Finding community on Substack — where I am writing in a way that is quite raw and vulnerable and authentic — has meant more to me than I can really put into words. I feel like I’m learning that my voice has value, and that it is okay to take up space.

4. What mistakes have you made?

The same mistake I always make: time blindness. I am habitually awful at understanding time, and the fact that it is limited. No amount of life experience seems to help me learn this lesson.

After a couple of months of writing between two seas, I decided I would start posting twice a week rather than once a week. I was just enjoying myself so much, and my logic was ‘the more, the better’ (which I am coming to learn is almost always untrue).

When I asked my subscribers how they would feel about receiving two newsletters a week, a wise reader suggested I should make sure I was not over-committing myself. It turns out, I was. I spent a couple of months posting twice a week and it was just too much. I couldn’t keep up with comments and restacks, which for me is as important as the publishing itself, and I ended up getting a bit stressed. My ever-patient partner said, “you know you’re in control, right? You can just go back to once a week.” And so I did. Lesson learnt (for Substack, anyway. I’m sure in a month or so I’ll make this exact same mistake in another context).

5. To pay or not to pay?

I have always had ‘paid’ as an option on between two seas, although all my content is free for now. I know some people have strong opinions about payment strategies on Substack, but I’m just doing what feels right for me — building community as best I can and allowing people to invest in my work if they want/are able to. At some point my strategy might change, but right now this model works for me. And I am eternally grateful for those who do support me financially, because it makes the whole thing possible.

6. What artistic and technical choices have you made?

I suppose my main technical choice has been to be consistent with the length of my newsletters. They tend to be 1000 – 1500 words. I read somewhere very early in my Substacking days that this is the ‘golden’ length for readers, and it is a very natural length of essay for me to write.

Artistically, I think the only choice I’ve consciously made is to be as true to myself as possible, and to not think about my audience too much when I write. If I think about readers, I find it very difficult to get into the flow state, and the flow state is one of the truest joys of writing (and, I would argue, of existing). I also risk censoring and second-guessing myself if I imagine others reading my words. So I try my best to write what feels true and raw and real, and not to worry too much about how that might be received. I think this has served me well in finding and connecting with my readers.

Oh, and there was also my choice of name. I had intended to call my newsletter fulmar, after one of my favourite seabirds, but the name was taken. As I contemplated a different name, I looked out to the Atlantic to the west and the North Sea to the east, and between two seas was born. In hindsight the name works well, as I often write about liminality and betweenness. Either this was a happy coincidence, or my subconscious was making plans without me (which, to be fair, it often does).

7. What’s been the effect on your writing?

Beyond what I mentioned earlier, about having the confidence to be authentic and to take up space with my words, writing on Substack has helped me develop my understanding of why I want to write, and why I want to share my writing with others. Donald Woods Winnicott said 'artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide', and this probably sums up my conflict around sharing my work much better than I ever could.

Substack has helped me unpick that a bit and put my finger on why I want to share my writing. Which, ultimately, is to both see and be seen, and to broaden my understanding of the world while hopefully, if I’m lucky, broadening someone else’s.

Having this understanding of why I share my writing has helped me immensely, but it would be hard to say concretely how. I think it just gifts me some clarity and confidence in my work.

8. In it for the long haul?

Absolutely. As long as Substack’s culture remains as it is, I can’t see myself leaving. If I did, I would miss the community here so much. It is truly a special place.

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