The Millions I've Made from my Content

Deconstructing My Strategy!

I started hustling really hard since I created a Twitter in April of last year. This Substack is one of them, but I’ve also landed affiliate and brand deals on my Instagram and Twitter. Today I broke the $2 million mark, so I finally feel ready to share my strategies and insider content. This is the first and last time I’ll do that… afterwards I’ll be launching online courses for hundreds of dollars.

that feeling of accomplishment

SIKE!

Here’s what I’ve actually made on Twitter since then:

• a box of flaming hot cheetos and a big sloth plushie (both very dear gifts to me)

• about $4 after I asked people to send me some money so I could say I made a dollar on the internet

• an introduction to my realtor, who is scoping out apartment listings for me

• many, MANY friends and acquaintances who share their ideas with me, encourage me, and keep me going

Am I still a “real” artist/ creator/ writer if I’ve only made $4? Am I legitimate ~right now~ when I haven’t made it yet? There’s a part of me that wants to keep suppressing my desires — well I don’t actually care about having readers or making it, after all finance is my dream! — but I find that it hurts myself more to go down that path. Overall, I’d much rather be honest with myself about my wish to be somebody on the internet.

I recently listened to an episode of Paul Millerd’s podcast, where he talked to Michael McBride, a data consultant turned history TikToker. They talked about how there can be a lot of shame when starting to create things; there’s a level of social legitimacy that McBride, with 500k+ followers and many brand deals, has now, but most people don’t have that at 10, 100, or 1000 followers. He recommended creators take themselves seriously even at small follower counts.

---

How can I protect my love for the journey, so the destination itself matters less? That’s the question that the podcast episode brought up for me. As far as I can tell, I don’t want to be a full-time content creator, but I do resonate with that sense of shame McBride talks about.

I’ve tried to mitigate much of the shame by not taking myself too seriously and not doing as much as I could be on Twitter or on Substack, but I’ve started to notice that this comes with the side effect of playing small. I want to write about serious topics — money, self-worth, mental health, Asian American identity— but I have lots of self-doubt. It’s much easier to stay lighthearted than it is to take myself seriously and aim high with my writing.

So that’s the part I don’t love about my current state. But there’s also value I get from this deliberate lack of seriousness. I’ve also managed to mitigate much of the shame by not placing too much value on the whole “quit your day job and make bank” milestone. Needing passion projects and art to pay the bills can introduce tons of pressure. Having a day job allows art to stay art, and then it allows me to bypass tunnel vision and see everything that I do get from spending time writing essays and having an online presence: food and fun, yes, but also this deeply rooted sense of belonging and friendship.