I started this newsletter, Please Hustle Responsibly, here on Substack the way most good internet things start: half conviction, half curiosity, and a dangerous amount of optimism. At the time, Substack felt like the cleanest version of “just ship it.” No overthinking about fonts and colors. Just me, a blank page, and my notes app (which wasn’t great for long-form writing) telling me to write the thing and hit send. It gave me permission to show up before I had the whole brand figured out—before I had the cadence, the categories, the grand plan. Substack’s simplicity did what simplicity does best: it removed friction, and friction is where dreams go to die.
And honestly? Substack did a lot right for me. Discoverability was real. Community was real. The platform has this bookish, browsing-a-stacked-table-at-an-indie-bookstore vibe that makes you want to stumble into someone’s writing and stay for a while. It’s one of the few corners of the internet where reading feels like a positive personality trait, not a chore. I’ve met some incredible writers through this platform, and after the first year, it was starting to feel like a place on the internet I looked forward to.
But then, I really fell in love with writing Please Hustle Responsibly. The newsletter went from “a thing I’m writing” to “a thing I’m building.” And when you’re building—really building—you start noticing all the tiny little inconveniences that add up over time. As the audience got bigger (and the business side got more serious), I needed more control. Not because I wanted to be fancy (though that was a nice benefit), but because I wanted to be intentional. I wanted the design to look like me. I wanted better growth tools so I could understand what was working without having to do calculus just to figure out where subscribers were coming from (Substack has horrible analytics). I wanted automations that could welcome new readers, segment different types of subscribers, and let me build a relationship with my readers, and let my readers build a relationship with each other.
I also wanted monetization to feel less like an awkward tip jar and more like a real, flexible system—one that could support templates, sponsorships, experiments, a truly custom website, and offers without making everything feel duct-taped together. That’s the moment beehiiv started to make more sense. It’s less “writer’s clubhouse” and more “publisher’s toolkit.” While beehiiv leans almost to the opposite side of the business spectrum, it still had a big appeal. Substack is wonderfully opinionated; beehiiv is wonderfully customizable. Substack is a little café with regulars; beehiiv is a space you can rearrange when your needs change.
I still genuinely like Substack, but more so as a social network, not a serious newsletter platform. I still read writers here. I still think it’s one of the best places to discover voices that are sharp, weird, brilliant, and human. I still post to Substack Notes occasionally. If what you want is to write consistently, find your people, and build a community around your ideas without getting sucked into the “tools-first, writing-second” vortex, Substack is a great choice.
But if you’re starting to think like a builder—if you want more control over growth, design, automations, and how you make money—beehiiv can be the better fit.
Substack helped me start. beehiiv helps me scale.
And since you’re here: Please Hustle Responsibly now lives on beehiiv. If you want my essays on creator business, newsletters, podcasting, and sustainable growth – subscribe here.
If you’d like to know more about why I chose beehiiv out of all the other options, and my experience on the platform thus far, here are some articles that might be helpful:
https://www.pleasehustleresponsibly.com/p/substackvsbeehiiv
https://www.pleasehustleresponsibly.com/p/why-i-don-t-regret-moving-to-beehiiv-an-honest-3-month-review
https://www.pleasehustleresponsibly.com/p/the-business-of-email
https://www.pleasehustleresponsibly.com/p/the-future-of-newsletters-looks-a-lot-like
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