What Andrea Gibson’s Remarkable Substack Shows Us About Legacy and True Connection
An explanation of what you’ll likely be seeing on Notes in the coming days or weeks or months
The magic of the Substack Things That Don’t Suck
Why it’s a model of the power that a Substack can have
Why
had so many devoted, devoted, devoted readers
Note: I hope it doesn’t come across as clinical or mercenary to be looking at Andrea’s Substack, but I mean it with so much respect and appreciation for what it and Andrea have given us and will continue to give Substack readers and writers for years to come.
You may have seen—or will see—the outpouring of condolences and love on Notes for Andrea Gibson, who passed away yesterday at 49 from ovarian cancer.
I learned that Andrea had died after being hit by a wave of grief over my mother’s recent death. As those of you who grieve know, grief hitches itself to other deaths in the strangest way. I didn’t know Andrea, though I have many friends and clients who did, but the grief I felt yesterday sitting at my kitchen table reading the media reports—one after another as the news spread—was intense. I felt bereft like I’d lost my mother all over again.
Then I realized it was more than transference.
True, the death announcement posted by Andrea’s wife Meg was heartbreaking. The two sentences that hit me hardest and were also somehow most comforting:
“Andrea Gibson died in their home (in Boulder, Colorado) surrounded by their wife, Meg, four ex-girlfriends, their mother and father, dozens of friends, and their three beloved dogs.”
“Andrea would want you to know that they got their wish. In the end, their heart was covered in stretch marks.”
But that bereft feeling came from knowing that Andrea and her Substack Things That Don’t Suck wouldn’t appear in my inbox again.
Andrea
If you don’t know Andrea, they were Colorado’s poet laureate and a spoken word icon. Andrea and their wife Meg Falley are the subject of the forthcoming documentary “Come See Me in the Good Light,” which won the Festival Favorite award at the Sundance Film Festival and is set to air on Apple TV+ this fall.
They’re also the creator of the Substack Things That Don’t Suck, which I’ve pointed my clients to as a model Substack more times than I can count.
Things That Don’t Suck
Things that don’t wasn’t my first Substack, but it was the first that showed me what a Substack could be: life-altering for the writer and their readers.
True, Andrea was internationally renowned.
And Things That Don’t Suck has a fantastic short description: “One poet's quest to uncover what shifts when we shift our attention.”
And a fantastic bio (written before the 26-word-max cut-off was a thing): “Colorado Poet Laureate, author & performer. I write about love, mental health, and social justice. I collect political t-shirts, panic attacks, & poems about the moon. In the end, I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.”
And a great About page (written their own way but still covering the basics what I teach you about how to write your About page).
But that wasn’t why a hundred thousand people subscribed and hundreds and thousands took the time to like and comment on every single post, without a discussion prompt or question necessary.
It wasn’t the branding.
It wasn’t because Andrea worked some algorithm or had a great paid offering.
It wasn’t because Things That Don’t Suck was promoted by Substack (it rarely was).
What makes Things That Don’t Suck a model of what a Substack can (and maybe should) be
Andrea’s writing is remarkable, i.e., makes people want to remark.
I use that adjective deliberately. You can be a textbook “good” writer and if you aren’t writing something that prompts people to remark, it’s likely ordinary.
Go look at the sheer number of comments and likes.
And notice that it wasn’t always like that. Andrea grew into their Substack just like you probably are.
The writing is high quality. What that means:
Andrea posted when they had something to say, so we never felt they were wasting our time.
Yes, regularity is important but not if it means you’re dialing it in. Post less often—twice a month instead of every week—or send a “golden nugget.”
The posts were deeply felt and considered, not “musings.”
Andrea never used the guru voice.
Andrea invited us into their life but never in a confessional, performative, look-at-me way.
Things That Don’t Suck allows us to enter the way Andrea sees/saw (because their writing lives on) the world.
Things That Don’t Suck has a purpose. Not a “niche,” not a demographic—a purpose. To me, it’s this (from their About page): “There’s enough bad news on your timeline.”
There’s a sense that their Substack is an ongoing exploration we get to come along on.
Andrea wrote on Substack and built their audience for four-and-a-half years.
You don’t have to be a poet to have a Substack that does these things. We could be writing about hammers, and if you do it in this way:
Write what’s remarkable about your topic (i.e., the parts that others don’t see, the aspects that will make us, your readers, want to join in the conversation).
Have a purpose, not a niche.
Invite us into your life but not in a performative way.
Deeply consider your posts before sending them to us.
Show up as a pro but don’t be perfect.
Explore something and let us come along; don’t try to be a guru.
Post when you actually have something to say; otherwise, send a golden nugget or lessen your frequency. (We’ll be talking more about posting frequency in August.)
Be in this for the long game.
The main thing I want you to take away
Andrea grew into their Substack just like you probably are.
If you track their archive, early posts get zero likes and one or zero comments.
Stay in this and with me for the long game, and you will write in a way that inspires people to remark and connect.
Your Substack is your legacy
It’s haunting and powerful to land on Andrea’s Substack and see how our Substacks are our legacy.
What are you doing with yours?
My condolences go out to their family and loved ones. May Andrea’s words affect others the way they’ve affected so many of us forever and ever.
And spend your life reading and re-reading the archive.
You’ll be glad you did.
This strikes me as so important: "Andrea posted when they had something to say, so we never felt they were wasting our time."
My boss at my first writing job said something that has always stuck with me: "If you have nothing to say, don't say it."
"Have a purpose, not a niche." I love this idea. When you are purpose driven, that's very different. The writing comes from a different place. I know who my audience is, but why am I speaking to them? Such amazing food for thought.