It’s a fair question. But it’s not much help.
I reckon a better question is:
"What am I charging for?"
Because pricing on Substack isn’t like setting an hourly rate. It’s flexible, personal, and entirely dependent on what you’re making, who it’s for, and what role you play in their lives.
There’s no single answer. Substack is not a monocrop farm. It’s a garden. Some newsletters are tomatoes: nutritious, practical, nourishing. Some are lavender: fragrant, relaxing, ornamental.
Your pricing depends on what kind of plant you are, and how people are using what you produce.
So: don’t start with you. Start with them — your audience.
Think about what they’re getting, how they use your work, how they might value it.
That’s the path toward clarity.
And the simplest tool I’ve found to get there is this:
Write a mission statement.
Write it once. Revisit it often. Say it out loud when describing your Subsack. Put it on your About page, weave it into your welcome emails. It will help you make pricing decisions.
But it will also help you with the other stuff that creeps up when your Substack starts to feel like a job — like what to do when you go on holiday, or whether to pause billing when you hit a lull.
If you know what you’re charging for, everything gets simpler.
Bottom line:
There’s no one-size-fits-all pricing — it depends entirely on the kind of value you’re creating and the kind of relationship you’re building with your audience.
Understanding value from your audience POV
Once we start thinking from our audience’s side of the screen, it feels like there are two kinds of people who will pay for work on Substack.
Investors and Champions.
Investors are paying for what we deliver — the value we create. They want insight, entertainment, clarity, expertise. They’re buying something from us that helps them survive or thrive.
Think of stock tipsters. Practical takeaways on Mental health like
. Culture curators like who save you from drowning in the pop culture slipstream. Aggregators like who point you to the best films, books and shows, the smartest thinkers, the places worth spending your limited attention.They offer something that makes the reader smarter, faster, calmer, more prepared.
Champions, on the other hand, are paying not for what you give them, but for what you are. They’re paying because they want you to keep going.
Think
Think independent journalists like
doing the kind of work that would otherwise dry up behind a corporate firewall. Think of musicians like - their audineces support them, not just their output.And the truth is, most of us are somewhere on the spectrum between the two.
Some readers are coming for your take on the world; some are coming because they want to make sure you’ve got the time and breathing room to keep doing it.
It’s useful — essential, even — to figure out where you are on that line. What kind of relationship you’re inviting. What kind of economy you’re building.
Because it shapes not just what you charge, but how you talk about what you charge.
Value is Way More Important Than Time
Another common trap: thinking about your work in terms of the hours it takes.
“It takes me three hours to write a post. I should earn [insert freelance rate] per hour.”
Look, I get it. Freelancers and employees are trained to think that way. But Substack isn’t a job. It’s a relationship.
If I’m paying for
I’m not paying for 60 minutes of stretching or 5 minute restorative breaks from my screen. I get that… but I’m paying to be guided. To be kept accountable. To move through something hard in community.
Same thing with you.
Your readers aren’t paying for the three hours it took you to put your post together.
They’re paying for the years of thinking behind it - or the genius flash of insight that only YOU can offer them
They’re paying for the clarity, the curation, the perspective that you spent years learning to see.
They’re paying for the way your work fits into their life.
There’s a reason Bloomberg Terminal costs stock traders over $2,000 a month. It’s not because it takes Bloomberg staff hundreds of hours to update a database. It’s because having faster, smarter, better information is incredibly valuable for traders.
Value is way more important than time.
Mission Clarity is Everything
This is where your mission statement becomes gold.
One of the best frameworks I know comes from Donald Miller’s StoryBrand approach. It’s simple:
We help [customer with a problem] by [providing solution] that [offers them a survive or thrive outcome].
Example:
We help small business owners who struggle to say what they do by providing simple frameworks to clarify their message in ways that attract their best fit customers.
It’s clear. It’s audience-focused (small business owners). It’s not about boasting how great you are; it’s about showing who you serve, what problem you solve, and what that helps them achieve.
If you write a mission statement like that — and you keep it somewhere visible — it becomes your North Star. It’ll also help you answer some niggly questions - like what to do when you go on holiday..
Should you pause billing? Check your mission.
Should you offer a guest post or a cross-post while you’re away? Check your mission.
Should you just say “I’m taking a break to recharge over August, see you in a month”. Check your mission.
It also reframes the relationship beautifully.
Your readers aren’t just buying your weekly outputs like a meal kit.
They’re investing in a relationship with you. A long-term, high-trust, high-value relationship.
You are not their serf, labouring in the content mines to dig out 1500 words every Tuesday or else.
Unless you want to be.
If you’ve promised 1500 words every Tuesday, rain or shine, and you stop delivering that without warning — yeah, fair enough, you might have some explaining to do and payments to pause.
But if you’re building a relationship, if you’re nurturing trust and transformation, if you’re offering a long-term journey, then it’s different.
In that case, breaks aren’t a betrayal of the deal. They’re part of the deal.
You’re their trusted guide, companion, thinker, explainer, entertainer — whatever your mission calls you to be.
And they — all together — are your aggregate employer.
Not every individual subscriber.
The community as a whole.
That’s what you’re building on Substack.
Practical Reflection and Permission
If there’s one point I’d like you to ponder after reading this, it’s this:
What are people paying me for?
Because once you know that, you can start making decisions — about pricing, posting, pausing, playing — with a lot more confidence and a lot less guilt. And the best thing is…
You get to choose!
I work for Substack, yes. I’m obviously a little biased — Substack only makes money when you do. But speaking personally, not corporately: I believe in the bigger picture here.
I believe in the mission. Ours, and yours. I believe clear missions make decisions easier, and trust stronger - for us and for you.
Either way, the key is trust. Built from mission clarity. Reinforced with honesty.
And honestly, whether you like it or not, you’re not just selling posts.
You’re building something that people want to be part of.
Something that delivers value to them or meaning through you.
If you know what you’re charging for — and who you’re charging for it — everything gets easier.
And a lot more fun.
P.S. What’s your mission?
A little light homework, if you’re up for it:
Write one scrappy sentence that answers:
What type of person are you helping? What’s their problem? How does your Substack help make their life easier?
It doesn’t have to be polished. It just has to exist.
A stick in the ground. Something to aim at, something that can shift.
If you feel like sharing, I’d love to see what you come up with.
(And if you don’t want to share — at least share it with yourself.)
Here’s mine, if it helps:
I help people get going — and keep growing — on Substack by building smarter, simpler, more sustainable media empires — without selling their soul or hawking branded flip-flops.
Share this post