What I've learned in one year of publishing
Cento turns 1! I reflected on what I've learned and accomplished, and plans for year two. Plus, I shared feedback from readers.
I’m approaching one year of publishing Cento. As we do with milestones, this feels like a good time to reflect and regroup: what did I want when I began this venture, and what has transpired? What have I learned? Where is all of this going, and who cares? I’m sharing my reflections in hopes that it will be useful to you in some way.
Let’s jump in.
First, a few publication stats to kick us off
This is a from-scratch project: real butter, sifted flour, all that. I launched on September 5, 2023 with two subscribers who are both incredible writers and strategists—I mean, so smart. This wasn’t intimidating at all. Then, in December, when I trusted myself to publish consistently, I began promoting and sharing my work. Today, I have a total audience of 466. So, small yet. Slow and steady growth. (Speaking of, what an opportune time to invite you to—
Substack offers other options to slice-and-dice the data, including my open rate, which hovers around 52 to 54 percent, and views per month, which are trending up, if the analytics can be trusted. In the 30-day range straddling July/August, I had 8,000 views: that’s a lot of window shoppers. I hope they found something of value.
There’s one more set of numbers that’s important to me, and it’s the diversity of people I interview. In total, to date, I’ve published 21 interviews. Of those, 10 people identify as Black or BIPOC, 11 identify as women, and one, nonbinary. The majority are coaches, but one’s an artist, and one, an entrepreneur. (Note that while I have a goal to prioritize diversity among my interviewees, I’m not collecting this data. I’m only sharing what they’ve offered in our conversations.)
With this context, let’s take a deeper dive into more complex questions about publishing, including what did I want from a newsletter?
What did I want from a newsletter?
Simply, I wanted to create something to love. That’s it. I wanted a writing project to obsess over, and one that provided value to readers. And, I did it! If this was all that happened, great. It is no small feat to anchor in work that feels purposeful and fulfilling.
As opposed to any number of past newsletters I’ve launched and then failed to sustain, this one captures a voice, tone, and content that suits me. It is vulnerable but I’m not rendered overly exposed. It’s useful but not sales-y, personal but not self-indulgent, crafted but not stripped of realness. Also, I learn something weekly, and I use my platform to elevate others.
What else did I want?
I wanted to cut through the noise of the coaching industry. I’m dedicated to the practice of coaching, and I’m convinced that practically everyone would benefit from coach training. But the business of coaching confounds me: why does it feel like it requires one to become the most obnoxious version of themselves online? I thought I could use storytelling and interviews to fill the gap between the people I know to be wonderful, wise, and skilled, and the persona of the coach we see represented in the media and on LinkedIn feeds.
I wanted coaching to have its own press, in a way, because mainstream journalism rarely gets it right, either.
At the same time (and in contradiction to what I just said above about having its own press), I wanted the people I interviewed to partner with me throughout the editing and publishing process. To do this, I designed a collaborative and intensive work style: I record each interview for my notes. Then, I edit and organize copy, tighten narratives, and pluck out what is most compelling from the raw text. When I have a penultimate draft, I allow each interviewee to suggest edits.
Did collaborating on the revision process terrify me at first? So much, yes. I was afraid that marketing-speak and self-promotion would creep back in, overwhelming the beauty of a story told in truth. But it hasn’t. Instead, the joint editing process has strengthened and clarified my copy every time.
All told, I probably spend seven to nine hours on each interview, and each one feels like a private masterclass on coaching, race, identity, and enterprise.
What else did I want?
I wanted Cento to be a place where people who aren’t coaches could find a program for themselves. It’s why I ask those I interview where they trained and certified.
This is me, a wiser self, writing to my past self. I spent too long trying to find a program that suited me. But, there’s a difference between content that is useful and interesting, so I’m rethinking this. This prompts my next question, what have I learned in my first year?
What have I learned in my first year of publishing?
Truly, so much. Most importantly, I’ve deepened my understanding of culture, coaching, and whiteness.
Early on, one of my interviewees who is Black said coaching is rooted in white dominant culture, and I didn’t entirely grasp what they meant. It seemed they were speaking to a more profound truth than that the majority of coaches are white, and clients are usually white, privileged, and in positions of power. So what, exactly, did they mean?
This was my learning edge.
When I think about what constitutes culture, I default to what’s most accessible or visible—things like language, cuisine, music, fashion, spirituality, and historical memory. What is less obvious, because it takes more time and intention to understand, are the intangibles of a culture—things like beliefs, values, and mindsets. This is what my colleague meant when they said coaching was born from white culture: coaching can reinforce already dominant, hierarchical norms. It can hyper-value competitive success without considering the cost to the self, environment, or others. It can embrace the myth of the single charismatic leader as the primary driver of success, or help a leader succeed at transactional over transformational goals, or inadvertently aid them in taking credit for unearned wins.
How coaching can promote something different
In contrast, coaching can also introduce mindsets, values, and norms that are outside of the dominant culture. It can champion broader, more wholistic opportunities for growth. Instead of either/or thinking, it fosters systems and complexity thinking. Instead of supporting a lack of transparency in decision-making, it begins to demonstrate how to root in traditions of consultation and partnership. It gives more space for collaboration because it is a collaborative relationship itself; it shifts ideas of power hoarding to power sharing. It softens the stigma or fear of open conflict by modeling direct and constructive feedback.
It can do all of this. But it requires a willingness, on the part of the coach and the coachee, to examine biases, beliefs, assumptions, language, and mistakes. One of my goals is to be a contributor to, and amplifier of, this evolution.
So, where is all of this going in year two?
Exciting places, I hope.
I launched with a real focus on the industry of coaching because I wanted a clear niche and a useful product. But in truth, I have a portfolio career and varied interests, and my readers come from a variety of career fields, as well. So, in year two, I’m going broaden my focus to personal development and success overall. If Cento had experienced astronomical growth in year one, I wouldn’t mess with the formula, but I’m still small and nimble enough to evolve.
In year two, what unites the work might be me, my voice, but I hope it’s a shared sensibility among us. I was thinking about this at the gym the other day, and the phrase that came to me is that I’m seeking to establish a “cult of curiosity” over a “cult of personality.” (Or, like, no cult at all, but you know what I mean.) Which brings me to my final questions, who cares about this, and what do they care about?
Who cares about it? What do they care about?
My readers are writers, coaches, actors, directors, marketers, educators, therapists and medical professionals, entrepreneurs, and more. Because they’re not a homogenous body, they enjoy, or find useful, different aspects of what I publish—some really like the interviews, some really like the essays, and some like stuff that I’ve auditioned but haven’t promoted to season regulars yet.
This past week, I asked for feedback from random subscribers in three groups: those who read consistently, never missing a post; those who read semi-consistently, skipping on occasion; and people I’ve interviewed. Overall, their feedback revealed that everything I’m publishing is working, but not everything is working for everyone. That may be just fine. Take a look at a few selected comments.
What do you like best about Cento?
“You interview people that I may not have encountered or know.”
“I genuinely enjoy e-meeting the people you speak with through your writing!”
“I enjoy reading about other coaches’ journeys! I often feel like a lone wolf as I went through a small, unknown program, and I don’t have a lot of peers I follow closely. It’s interesting to read about what people are doing, and how they arrived at this place.”
“Your voice is wonderful and any time you have an opportunity to express it, take it.”
“My favorite thing is your essays.”
“I just love it when it comes into my feed, really because I love your style. You always have such interesting people. I appreciate the bite-size nature of each piece.”
“I always look forward to reading the Q&A posts where you answer an actual question someone has sent you.”
What do you skim or skip?
“The interviews aren’t really my thing, mostly because it’s not my topic area.”
“I do like the interviews, but as someone who isn’t a coach, I skim the coach-speak.”
“I’m super short on time. I think your writing is wonderful, but because it’s text-heavy, I’m often just skimming to get a sense of things before I have to move on.”
Why don’t you open some issues?
“I feel like the articles I do read are really interesting and inspiring—it’s just that life is chaotic and email newsletters get put on the back burner. I’m probably most devoted to a podcast that’s Christian-based, which I listen to on my way to work, but other than that, I’m pretty scattered.”
“I have too much to do.”
I interviewed you …. what was the impact?
“Your interview changed my life. It has created a new connection and alliance between me, you, and our colleague to serve an underserved market—and that is the biggest bonus. Again, thank you for your allyship in amplifying my voice. This is what is so meaningful to me.”
“I got to share it with my community, so that was nice! I also had the opportunity to meet and connect with you—the best byproduct of doing this to date.”
And that’s it. It’s a lot. I’m still gathering and processing your feedback, and I hope we become closer in the coming year. Please drop me a line or schedule a time to chat if you want to share your thoughts in more depth, or discuss anything else.
One of my goals was to write for an audience because it’s more inspiring and fun, and here you are! I’m excited to continue the journey with you. xx.
A beautiful idea. Keep building Steph. ❤️