Why do I accept paid subscriptions?
I’d like to be transparent about the work that I do and how paid subscriptions provide the scaffolding for it.
When you opt for a paid subscription here, you’re not looking to purchase more content. I have no expectation that any one of my readers will open every single essay or video I publish and “keep up with it all.” No one can do that.
What paid subscriptions do for my specific publication is provide a patronage model of support. As a freelance writer, editor, and speaker, my creative work is structured around my domestic life as a mom to five kids—and, most importantly, around the caregiving schedule our daughter Sarah needs for her ongoing, complex care.
My work has to fit around caregiving.
Many of you may be familiar with my daughter Sarah and her primary diagnosis of Apert syndrome. Since her birth, Sarah has undergone thirteen surgeries and keeps up with a dozen specialists we see regularly. She has four standing appointments every week.
I have to be available to take her to these appointments, some of which are scheduled months in advance and almost always at an odd day and time (say, a Tuesday at 1 PM), so a conventional “clock-in-clock-out” job, even remotely, isn’t an option for me to pursue.
That’s why I’ve been constructing paid work that is shaped around the care that Sarah and her siblings need, and that’s why your paid support offers me a way to do that.
Caregiving is work. Creative work is work.
I’ve written before about invisible and unpaid labor. Much of what I do is not named, seen, or understood.
I do this all while managing a household. None of this work yields pay. My writing and the freelance editing and consulting work I offer is my way of trying to build an income that can function within the framework of my caregiving responsibilities.
It’s impossible for me to choose between being a caregiver to my children and the professional creative work I do for a living, which is why I would like to find a way to do both.
What your subscription helps sustain
When people ask me, “What do you do?” my answer includes far more than “write on Substack.” Sometimes an assumption that this is just a hobby, or I’m a “mommy blogger,” ends up in the conversation, so I’d like to debunk that by sharing with you what my creative work actually entails:
weekly essays on Substack;
the ongoing development of my memoir (including working for six months on the book proposal alone, as well as revising my query and doing research for good-fit publishers and/or agents);
Sarah’s artwork and greeting cards that she wants to share with you;
monthly videos with candid conversations between Sarah and me;
live Zoom gatherings for my paid subscribers, where Sarah decides what questions and comments she wants to share during our time together;
occasional workshops and collaborative projects (right now it’s a panel presentation on conscious language/empathy, a synchronous, virtual panel on grief, and co-editing a poetry anthology for caregivers with my friend Chris B.);
researching and organizing the possibilities for writing grants, scholarships, residencies, and contests;
networking with other creative professionals through Substack Lives and one-on-one Zoom calls;
revising raw material, like essays and poems, for possible publication;
live speaking engagements and podcast interviews;
hosting a free, monthly women’s writing support group on Zoom;
hosting an in-person monthly book club at my house.
Your paid patronage provides the foundation for me to continue curating this work, and showing up in a relational way for the people who enter my Substack space.
Some of this work can only happen here.
What I’ve learned recently is that my Substack isn’t about motherhood. I don’t offer tips and tricks. It’s not an advice column. I don’t have bulleted lists on how to make life easier.
It’s a space where my parenting is modeled in real time, alongside my children and mainly including Sarah.
Much of the work that happens in this publication is directly related to how my relationship with my children, especially Sarah, evolves. They ask questions, offer ideas, and bring their own perspectives and viewpoints to our conversations. All of this sculpts the essays I end up publishing on this platform.
What you’re actually joining
I Grow Strong Again is a virtual space that encourages slowing down and noticing goodness in everyday life. These are what I call “micromoments,” or snapshots of time that capture delightful encounters we might normally rush past.
This is primarily a relational place that invites reader reflection and careful attention. We are not interested in performance or perfection here. Showing up as you are in any given moment is always welcomed, embraced, and honored.
My readers are willing to sit with the tension of uncertainty, are curious and open-hearted, and are intentional about avoiding productivity and optimization.
Life isn’t a lesson. It’s meant to be lived alongside other humans who will hold each other for a time, and that’s what I Grow Strong Again cultivates.
That’s different than what you might find on other internet platforms.
Free readers are welcome. Paid readers sustain the work.
There’s no expectation for you to pay in order for you to be fully welcomed. You belong here, as you are. Always.
Paid subscribers are those who choose to keep my creative work sustainable and independent.
Your time is free for you to spend as you wish. Creative work is labor that isn’t free, and that’s why it helps to have people who can, and want to, support me by becoming a paid patron.
What does $5 actually mean?
Monthly income helps offset the costs of raising five children in this economy. I spend a large amount of time communicating with educators, therapists, and medical practitioners; filling out paperwork; scheduling appointments; pre-registering for procedures; driving to/from appointments; coordinating Sarah’s care among several providers; advocating for all of my children at school, with peers, and for their mental and physical health.
This list, of course, is not exhaustive and doesn’t include the random field trip, when a backpack rips, lost headphones for school, or tuition. Not to mention the other incidentals involved with raising a family.
My writing and the freelance editing and consulting work I offer is my way of trying to build an income that can function within the framework of my caregiving responsibilities.
Annual subscriptions are especially helpful, because they offer me some level of predictability around which I can center my creative work.
You don’t have to read everything you pay for here.
Consider other subscriptions you may have, where you probably don’t consume everything that’s offered in your paid package:
public radio
magazines or newspapers
a local museum
Long ago, patrons of art contributed some amount of money that would enable the artist to work independently, without being attached to a specific contractor or project. You don’t have feel obligated to “get your money’s worth” by watching every single video replay or reading every essay I publish.
Your paid support essentially communicates that you want me to continue this work.
If this work matters to you
No one owes me anything. My hope is that those of you who find some value in the connections built inside this space—or maybe a story that deeply resonated with you, a question that challenged your existing worldview, or a way you’ve found greater strength and hope—will consider a paid subscription.
It’s a joy to show up every day in my home office and sit down at my computer to read the stories and comments you share with me. Even more, it’s meaningful to know that some of our ongoing forms of communication might remind us that there is softness, tenderness, and kindness that still exists in this world.
Thank you for what you bring, not only to me and this Substack space, but to your own communities.
You matter deeply to me.
With love,
Jeannie
Host of I Grow Strong Again and Ghost Mother