So, you've discovered Substack. But what's the deal with the name?
To anyone who loves words, the name 'Substack' is a bit bonkers.
You might know me for my humorous musings about being an empty nester after my youngest daughter left home in September. Every week or three, I hit the confession box in the Church of Substack with my series, Confessions of an Empty Nester.
I also write short stories, poetry, essays, plays, and the odd musing. This is one of them.
Jump on in.
I joined Substack almost exactly a year ago. A friend told me about it, and I resisted joining, for a while, for one very affected reason: I thought the name was utterly shite.
It didn’t appeal to me, at all.
Now, I am one of those people who takes words apart and puts them back together again, and collects them, like others collect shells, or stamps, or even snails. You do you, I don’t judge. Well, as long as you’re not using words I don’t like, like whimsy.
But, if you use a word I love - I will probably do this while you’re talking to me, or if I’m reading something I like - I will put it in my collection of words that I like, and tuck it away with all the other words and phrases like ‘irreverent’ and ‘ephemeral’ and ‘petrichor’ and even ‘Schokolinsen mit Zuckerüberzug’, which is the very long-winded German word for Smarties. Random, I know, but sure look it.
Anyway, back to Substack.
As someone who did Latin in school, and actually loved it, the choice to call this platform ‘Substack’ always surprised me. What, I wondered, quietly, to myself, was: ‘below’ or ‘beneath’ this particular stack? What the fuck is a stack? And why did they chose such an unattractive word, one that rhymed with ‘yack’ or ended harshly, ike ‘jock’, or other words that sound decidedly unsexy?
Let’s take it apart for a small second:
sub= Latin for under, beneath, below.
stack= apparently, stack is old Norse, from stakkr = haystack. Like an orderly pile of hay, which then started to be used in the sense of chimney stacks, book stacks and suchlike…
So… we are under the… stack of books? magazines? All very confusing. A little bit daft, really, if we’re completely honest.
Until last year, Substack to me, with its thoroughly unappealing name, may as well have been a pile of … pancakes. Of a not very high standard. But here we are.
So, what is Substack? You have possibly been here a while, and noticed that it’s a sort of newsletter thing, crossed with a blog, covering all sorts of topics, all words possibly raised on artisanal coffee, and, possibly, chocolate, and, maybe, a mild inferiority complex, mixed with impostor syndrome, and, occasionally, a sprinkle of fleeting notions of superiority.
Us writers love it. Readers… too, allegedly.
I personally really struggled to understand ’what’ it actually is when I joined, on a recommendation from a friend.
Do you remember the line in Philadelphia, where the Denzel Washington character says: Explain it to me like I’m a two-year-old. So, to make it clearer as mud, I decided to have a bit of fun with it. I’ve decided to explain Substack as if talking to a two-, a 16-, a 50- and an 83-year old.
Explain Substack to me… like I’m a Two-Year-Old
‘Mummy, what is ‘Supstack?’
Well, darling. Imagine you draw pictures of dinosaurs and trucks and families eating cake in a thunderstorm. And then you tell stories about them. But, instead of showing them to your mammy, or your grandad, you put them in a magic envelope that goes straight into everyone’s lunchbox. They open it and pazzammm! There’s your dinosaur story. Sometimes they give you sweets, to keep sending more dinosaurs.
… Like I’m a 16-Year-Old
‘OK, but, like, what is this platform you’re always on? Like, it’s so boring, like.’
Substack, like, is like your dope Instagram story, kind of, like, it’s soooo amayyyyyzing. Oh and look, there’s a picture of me on the beach, with my cocktail, pout, pose, smiiiiile, OK and as I was saying, instead of disappearing in like, 24 hours, your ‘Stack stays totes forever like, and instead of likes, people give you actual cash, like I mean your cash is like 10’xd. You write a few words, youknowwhatImean, and like people totally read you, they get you, like, and you both pretend it’s not like a parasocial or paranormal or parasol kinda relationship. You can post long, weird pieces about your like brain dumps and stuff but your friends are not rolling their eyes. But yeah it’s like too many words or something, so you know, insta 4ever.
…Like I’m a 50-Year-Old
‘I cannot say I have heard of it before, I must say.’
Well, when I was YOUR age (pauses for effect), I was reading a thin double-paged paper thing (goes off rambling for three.point.eight minutes)… now they use it mainly for fish and chips, or maybe that was ten years ago. Though, hang on, ten years ago, sure that was the eighties. The em, em, what’s the fucking name again… oh, yes, newspaper column… With this new Sup…, I mean Substack, you write what you want and at our age that’s great, because we’ve finally found likeminded people who’ll read our opinions, essays, serialised novels, or my recent deep musings on the forgotten glory of garden sheds. Stubsack… Subs tack goes directly to people who’ve signed up because they like you. No editor breathing down your neck, no “space for just 300 words.” You’re your own boss. And that’s all that you want at this stage in your life. The downside? You’re also like your own unpaid intern. Oh, and your back is always sore from sitting down, and your eyes, from all the reading.
… Like I’m an 83-Year-Old Granny
‘What did you say? Supp, what?’
Now, dearie, let me put on the kittle. Did you hear who died? Yes yes, very sad, the poor wife, they were married in… I think it was 1964, no 63 it was. No, 64, that’s the year your grandad and I started doing a line. So, Edward was telling me about your writing, that’s great dear. Where can I find the book, is it in O’Donoghue’s? No? It’s not printed? But then, what is the point, dear? It’s published but it’s not printed? I don’t understand. Anyway, have a scone. Now, this Stub Snack, so, is it like one of those Christmas letters the Americans used to send to all the cousins? But the people reading it aren’t your cousins or aunts or uncles… you don’t even KNOW them? And… it’s a letter you can send every day or every week? And people send you money for it? But they don’t get a printout? It’s all very complicated. Here, have a fig roll. What are you writing about, dear? Good recipes you found? The difficulty of finding a parking space in front of Tesco? Oh, you’re writing about the immense, intense personal battle between trauma, imposter syndrome and the inability to overcome writer’s inertia? Your battle with self deprication and resulting self-destruction? Your thoughts on our dysfunctional family? Oh, right dear. Put the phone down now and well, erm, we’ll look at it later. Now, have a slice of fruitcake. No, here, have two. You need all the strength you can get.
In Substack’s own words:
So, What the Hell Am I?
I’m Substack. A writer’s publishing platform with a totally shite name, if we’re honest and fair about it. I blame those who made me. I’m sort of an email list, or an email list disguised as a publishing platform. You can be free or paid. You can write about anything (as long as it’s legal). And I’m a little addictive, because there’s something delicious about hitting “Publish” and knowing your words just flew into hundreds (or, if you’re lit, thousands) of inboxes. Or people might find you through the Substack Notes, which is a whole other way to discover your writing - if you’re a writer.
If you’re a reader, buckle up, cos there is SO much good stuff out there, but I’m a moody sod, and honey to fuck, I don’t really know what I’m doing from one week to the next, so I’ll show most Substacks to a handful of randomers, and a handful of Substacks get catapulted in front of tens of thousands, because I like to keep you guessing, mwahahahaha.
Also, I get a nice little cut from your paid subs, so I give you just enough rope to keep you going.
Do I have a silly name? Yes. Am I secretly one of the most powerful tools a modern writer can use? Also yes.
What’s Really Behind the Name?
The word “Substack” doesn’t come from a tech wizard’s mystical vision or a poetic metaphor. It’s just… programmer slang.
When the founders (Chris Best, Hamish McKenzie, and Jairaj Sethi) were brainstorming names in 2017, they pulled it from a piece of coding jargon. A stack in programming is a kind of data storage. A substack is a smaller stack within that.
In other words: it’s literally “a stack within a stack.”
The founders liked it because it sounded techy, minimalist, and non-specific. They wanted something that wouldn’t pigeonhole them into being “just” a newsletter service.
Unfortunately, to non-programmers, it sounds like:
• A sandwich shop.
• A flat-packed IKEA product.
• A mid-tier indie band.
And yet, here we are: a ridiculous name, a wildly popular platform, lots of genres, and a legion of writers saying “Yeah, I’m on Substack” as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I strongly suggest you join us.
So, what should I write about?
Well, that’s the million dollar question. What bakes your noodle? What floats your boat? What lurks in your Notes app, or your foolscap pages or fancy shmancy notebook you bought yourself at the London Book Fair, because browsing that stationary aisle made you feel like a writer for five minutes.
What do you actually write about, when you’re not overthinking?
Life? Family? Unhealed trauma? Your neighbours’ affairs? Your neighbour’s affair? If it’s the latter, I strongly suggest writing under a pseudonym. Law suits are expensive.
Now, sit forward, write loads, and watch the algorithm do its work. Or not. I’ll decide. But I can see you’re hooked already.
Signed, Substack, the most Superior of all Stacks (of Books and stuff)’
If you love what you just read:
Thank you, darlings. Now, go ‘stack.
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In 2026, I am going all-in: I am on a mission to make a living from writing. Every cuppa gets me closer to this dream, and if anything I’ve written has made you laugh, cry, sigh, think or throw things at the wall, I’d be so grateful if you considered supporting me. Thank you!
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If you want to read some of my other work, a good place to start is here:
Glow - A Short Story
In the module on dialogue in my Creative Writing MA, we were asked to write a short story of no more than 500-750 words, plus commentary, totalling no more than 1000 words.
Ad Acta
Hawtorn V. Rabot knows things about algorithms and how to break them. He also said something that made me sit up:
My confessional series lives here.
If you prefer podcasts, I have started recording them, and they live here:
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Consider becoming a paid subscriber, so I can continue my quest to finish my seven-book series, buy food in the expensive shop, and see out my days writing all those stories that have been knocking around in my head for decades.
Huh… I’ve always sort of automatically interpreted it as “stack of subscriptions.” 😂 Now we know.
😂 I always assumed it meant "stack of subscriptions"