I found Substack in 2024, when I had just quit my job to pursue a new project, when I was both excited and terrified about what the future would bring now that I had no salary but a mind flooded with delirious dreams.

“I’m going to write and publish a book!” I told all my colleagues and friends in the days before I left the company I worked for.

“I need to do something for myself,” I told my then manager.

“Am I crazy?” I asked my husband shortly after I entered the house, after leaving my computer, work phone, and badge in the building I’d spent almost ten years in.

The only person I didn’t tell right away was my mother, because I was sure she would disapprove, as she has done with most of the things I’ve done in my life. I always thought she would sigh and call me a disappointment, then give me the silent treatment for a while until something happened and she felt the punishment could be lifted. But that’s not what happened. When I finally told her, when I found the courage to tell what had happened, all I had was a silent nod and then a complicated question: “Are you sure?”

Are we ever sure about anything in our lives? I mean, 100%, without a single trace of fear?

“Yes,” I said, a lie we both needed to hear. I had to comfort her and tell myself, for the millionth time, that things—whatever happened—would be okay. I couldn’t break that invisible armor I was building around me, the one that would help me resist the heartbreak menace from the impostor syndrome, bad writing days, the terrible query process, or financial despair. And that’s how I continued, or better said, that’s why I didn’t stop: for the first time, I had no plan B.

Substack became an important part of my plan A (write and publish), and I found myself scrolling on my phone or computer, reading about the craft, the life, and the work of others. I started to write myself, not only my books, but posts for other people who could be in the same situation and short stories to spark the imagination. Soon, a few allies appeared, and what had started with me looking at strangers’ feeds turned into moments I compared to having a quick coffee with a friend or work colleague. I felt I wasn’t alone. There they were, people like me, even if they were completely different. There they were, the ones who shared the happy moments and the despair of their days, those who posted about their pets, children, family… and those who didn’t, who only talked about their work, their short stories, the craft.

These are a few of the books I bought these years because Substack YOU made me do it :)

On Substack, I share a bit of my journey—sometimes I rant about it—and some of my stories, and every time I hit the post button, I feel the excitement, looking forward to hearing from someone who might have liked it (or not), who might want to share what it meant to them. I don’t have many subscribers (my daughter laughs about it), and I know I appear in only a bunch of feeds compared to others, but I continue… resilience, they call it. Or stubbornness. I choose a nice cocktail of both to live my days.

Two and a half years later, in July 2026, I published my first book, as I said I’d do. I wrote it, translated it, and published it! Yeah, me!… or is it? There it is, the fear… There’s so much more that I could have done, so much more I could have read and learned, connections I should have worked on. But there it is, the white cover with colorful lines, the pink spine, all those pages I wrote and the first typo I already found… If there is something I’ve learned during these years, or better said, what I’ve cemented in my brain, is that nothing will ever be enough, because the day that happens, the day I’ll be sure there’s nothing more to do, since I will be dead.

Now, I celebrate it all: the successes and the little failures that teach me and help me get better. So, that’s it, and that’s me. This is my toast, in case we ever meet, or even if we don’t:

Cheers to a full life of indecision, petty fears, and relentless, stupid passions,

to the will to have a full life, full of tears and laughter, of love and desire.

Cheers to writing it all!

#57 You made me do it… Cheers!

#56 Boat life