8 Questions for... Tiffany Chu

On Notes from the Town Hermit

Photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash

Tiffany Chu

is a second-generation Taiwanese-American indie author of personal essays, literary fiction and fantasy. She’s published two books and has had short stories and essays published in The Cultivation Project, Renewal Missions, and The Publishing Room. On Notes from the Town Hermit, she writes personal essays and fiction, all centered around the theme of what it means to be human and live with dignity. 

1.     Why Substack?

Substack was an uncharacteristically spontaneous decision for me. I'd been writing on Wordpress and micro-blogging on Instagram for a long time, but I didn't enjoy either platform. After hearing about Substack from a fellow writer, I made an account on a whim. I didn't know anything about Notes or any of the other functions, but what drew me was the simplicity of Substack's publishing dashboard. After years of Wordpress site-wrangling and wailing over complicated tech and way too many options, I just loved how easy it was.

I'd reached a point in my baby author career where I craved freedom: to write what I was passionate about writing, to own my own audience, to play and experiment. I was tired of publishing on Amazon and having them take most of the profit (and never giving me any customer data or support). I was tired of trying to promote myself on Instagram and Meta where I could only reach a tiny percentage of my own followers and didn't own my own content. The fear of having my accounts shut down and losing everything for some arbitrary reason loomed, thanks to other authors’ horror stories. I was tired of living for other people and their rules.

Substack gave me what I was looking for, and I haven't looked back since.

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

I've been on Substack for a little over a year now. Have I found my groove? Oh goodness, I don't know if anyone ever does.

I came over with an imported list of 17 subscribers made up of friends and family. Barely anyone followed me over from Instagram and I only had maybe 200 followers there anyway, so pretty much from scratch. It took some experimentation and trying different things to “find my groove.”

I met with Sarah Fay, who helped me hone in on what I really wanted to do with my Substack and was incredibly helpful by containing the overwhelm with practical advice and guidance. Without her, I’d probably still be flailing around not knowing what was going on or how to fix it.

While I will continue to experiment (because staying the same is boring), I know what the heartbeat of my publication is. Everything I do serves to maintain that beat.

3.     How has it changed you?

Oh, in so many ways. I can't even begin to explain how life-changing Substack has been for me. It’s opened up a whole new realm of possibility.

People who read my writing might be surprised to learn that I am actually a very cerebral person, and not that emotional. The personal essays were an experiment of sorts, unexpectedly well-received, yet healing. Through writing them, I've had to sift through my less accessible emotions and sit with them. It can be incredibly uncomfortable. The surprising effect is that through the kindness and grace I've received from people reading these essays, I've grown as a person as well. My intellectual side is integrating better with my emotional side. A few years ago, I would have gagged at that previous sentence and my therapist would stand up and cheer if she read it, but yes, it's been cathartic and I think it's shaping me into a more whole person. 

I was a solo-writer for most of my life. Well, I should say I'm quite solitary in nature, so writing was no exception. This changed when I met my son, Renley, whom my husband and I would later adopt. He was the first person I had a writing relationship with. It was life-changing. Writing can be such lonesome work, you know? Since Ren died, I haven’t had a writing partner like that: where I felt safe sharing unfinished drafts and bouncing ideas with, however ridiculous. But even if I never find someone like that again, I knew I couldn’t go back to writing all alone.

Substack is a place where I’ve found many, many other writers to journey with. 

4.     What mistakes have you made?

Hmm, not sure if I’ve made any hermitage-shattering mistakes (yet). I suppose I could do a better job of planning out what I’m doing, but alas. There are always too many threads going on at once in my head. It’s far too difficult to try and cage them.

I’ll say that if I could start over with regard to paid subscriptions, I would have implemented a better strategy– start out pricing my Substack lower and then going higher if I wanted. In my mind, this would have been more respectful to those who supported me from the beginning. Instead, I kind of went the opposite direction. This was a mistake of ignorance about the platform, but also lack of strategy.

There’s also the problem of workaholism in me. While writing on Substack is slower and more thoughtful than on Instagram, for instance, there’s still a measure of quick gratification that can be difficult to combat. Put out a post every week and get my dopamine rush of comments. It’s nice and motivates me, but I’m afraid it distracts from the much slower work of writing my books. I fear that in getting addicted to writing on Substack, I don’t spend enough time on my other writing projects. This has been on my mind even more lately, since I started homeschooling my son this fall, and have a lot less time than before to devote to writing. That forces me to think about which writing I should be more focused on. There’s always that tricky balance of wanting to build an audience that will buy my books when they’re published, but I also need time to write those books haha.

5.     To pay or not to pay?

I had the paid option turned on from the beginning. A lot of my writing is free, but sometimes I share essays that are deeply intimate and personal. I see the paywall as a protective cocoon, both for myself and others in my fellowship. It creates a deeper sense of community, so I like it for that purpose. I’m more than a bit paranoid about the internet, having had unsavory experiences in the past. There are reasons I feel I need this layer of protection–a story for another day, perhaps. The wall frees me from some of that fear so I can write more openly about things that matter to me. It’s the compromise for writing under my real name. Until two years ago, I only ever wrote publicly under a pseudonym.

6.     What artistic and technical choices have you made?

In many ways, I think I've found that elusive intersection between what I want to write and what my readers want to read: what I call the heartbeat of my publication. That is, words that make you feel less alone and think more deeply about our human experience. I want to dive into reasons behind why we do things or think certain ways. I want my readers to explore with me and think, "Yes, but what if there is another layer? What if there is another angle I haven't considered?"

As I mentioned earlier, the personal writing wasn’t something I’d planned on doing so much of publicly. It’s paid off in that writing this way opened up so many portals to connection. I’ve come to realise how many of us seek that here, and I do think this is one of the best things about Substack: the ease with which we’re able to find each other. When I consider publishing something, I think of how perhaps reading words like mine during my dark times could have eased some of my intense feeling of isolation. That provides a standard for myself.

Notes from the Town Hermit exists for two purposes: to advocate for my late son who was taken from this world too soon and lived a life silenced, and to give a voice to those like me, who grew up too scared to speak our truths.

I don’t know if this counts as a technical choice, but I do use the block and mute buttons unreservedly. It goes back to self-protection. If I’m to write freely, I need to feel safe enough to do so. Any hint of hostility or antagonism results in a block. I’ve also removed people from my subscription list. It’s not my job to educate strangers on the internet about how to be a decent human. 

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

Writing in my own little bubble, I can easily deceive myself into thinking I’m pretty decent, or at least not too shabby. Well, as many of us now know, there are so many good writers on Substack. So many. I’m constantly having to kick myself off Substack so I can read other things because the quality here is just so high. I’ve been humbled. I’ve been inspired. It’s lit a little fire in me that makes me want to keep working and trying and seeking and practicing.

There’s something magical about the level of engagement. It provides accountability and stability in ways I haven’t experienced before. Since I started over a year ago, I don’t think I’ve missed a single week of putting out at least one email.

The Internet can be a scary place. Many of us know this. People aren’t usually so gracious or willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Words can be easily misinterpreted, skewed, taken out of context. For the most part, I’ve had positive experiences on Substack. The kindness of my readers has given me courage like nothing else. It’s very much a symbiotic relationship, where their encouragement releases me from my intense fear of being seen, and I am spurred on to continue giving them my best writing. I wouldn’t be able to do this without my wonderful readers.

8.   In it for the long haul?

At the moment, I have no plans to leave, but I’m somewhat notorious for disappearing without warning. I quite like it here, though. For as long as it remains this haven of gracious writers and readers, I’ll be around.

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