Issue No. 10: Celebrating 1-Year of A Slow Afternoon
Some anniversary thoughts and thankyous
If you’re going to be listening to this as a voiceover, just letting you know that I’ve added some images in this issue sharing the journey of A Slow Afternooon, if you’d like to check back later.
Earlier this morning, Nabeel stepped out to get something from the grocery store and came back home with a slice of cake. Later on in our lunch break, we lit a candle, took some photos, and had a small, sweet celebration at home. And by the title of this issue, I think you guys know why.
One year ago, sometime in July, I posted on my Instagram about launching A Slow Afternoon. It was a video I’d created around an imagined weekend situation for a subscriber, where you’d get into easy clothes for the day, take care of your life things like tidy up a little around the house or water the plants, and then your phone would ping with an email notification: a new issue of A Slow Afternoon had arrived in your inbox. You’d make some coffee, get comfortable on your couch, and spend a few minutes in your little bubble, resting, reading. Your very own slow afternoon.
I remember it was around 5 in the evening that day when I hit publish on my post. I was excited but also very nervous because I was asking for a paid subscription to a newsletter that I hadn’t even launched and to an audience that didn’t typically pay for content. Substack has grown exponentially all over the world but when it comes to a South Asian audience, which is what I was starting with at the time, it was still relatively uncharted territory, and so honestly, while I genuinely loved what I was offering, I was uncertain about the response.
But two weeks later, an email popped up in my inbox: Congratulations! You’re a Substack bestseller.
As I type this, I really do have a decent amount of tears in my eyes because hundreds of you showed up for me then. And over the past year we’ve grown into a community of thousands of subscribers. And while it’s been such a rewarding experience in many ways, I want this anniversary post to be about much more than just talking about the wins, because it’s never only that.
And so today, as I get settled in with my laptop and a cup of coffee by my side, I just want to sit down with you guys and have a real heart-to-heart about this one-year journey. There are some things I’ve never shared with you guys about starting this newsletter, how I’ve felt along the way, the highs I’ve seen, the challenges I’ve faced. I’ve said this before in one of the issues, but having you guys in this exclusive space, has somehow allowed me to share some things much more openly. So, this is going to be a packed full-of-feelings kind of issue and I hope that’s okay.
But first, how about a small intro?
I do have a bio in my “about me” section but because thousands of new people have subscribed since I started, I thought I’d say a quick hi here.
I’m Shehzeen and I’ve been working in the social media space for over a decade now. I just turned 40 last January and live with my husband of 13 years and truly the love of my life, in Sydney, Australia. We’re originally from Pakistan, lived in Dubai for a while and then about six years ago, we shifted bases and made our home here. I love simpler things, I think knowing how to be gentle is one of the bigger strengths in life, and I’m deeply passionate about chai.
A Slow Afternoon is my own personal dream corner on the internet, it’s everything I want to read (or listen to, because I also do voiceovers!) and what I’d trust my time with. If you ask me for an official term for what this newsletter is about, then I’d say “intentional, conscious living”, but to me, I just write personal essays around bringing quality to our everyday life experiences. We may have different backstories and lifestyles, but I truly feel that our hearts beat the same and much of what we grapple with on a day-to-day basis, if not practically, is often conceptually the same. In fact, I truly feel that if we remove the invisible trappings of modern life, everything points to simple, intentional living – all religions, faiths, life philosophies, ancient tradition, health principles – it all goes back to that. It’s not something complicated, it’s what takes us away from the complicated.
Anyway, let’s get back to what we were talking about.
I’m going to take you back in time to a very regular Thursday in December of 2022. I remember that moment still so vividly. I wasn’t working that day and I’d been lying on my couch literally just staring at the ceiling. I’d had a few hard weeks, some relationships had been coming apart for me and honestly, I was hurting quite a bit. But I think hurt and pain and disappointments are an inevitable part of life and while you can dwell in those emotions for as long as you want (and you can bet I did for a while), but I think if you don’t recenter yourself in due time, your compass can remain pointing at things that are no longer value-adding for you and that holds back no one but yourself. And it was that day, that I felt at my core that I wanted to channel my energy into creating something for myself, something fresh, something new. Creativity is one of life’s many spiritual gifts, we’re all creative in one way or another. And putting your mind & heart into transforming an adverse experience into something meaningful – it’s almost medicinal for your soul. That was the beginning of A Slow Afternoon.
I talked to Nabeel later that day about going back to longform writing. I told him I wanted to write a newsletter on Substack, and he loved the general idea of it. But then I added, that I wanted it to be paid from day one. And honestly, at that time he told me to think over that again. And while I personally stand by my choices, and he agrees with it too now, but I know why he felt that.
I’ll tell you something that I’ve not shared with you guys before. While the newsletter has received so much love and growth over the past year, I’ve often thought about whether I’ll be able to continue doing this. Because the reality is that without a large enough subscriber base, I can't continue doing this and I don’t have the bandwidth to provide the labor that goes into it for free. Even if it’s two issues a month right now, it takes me quite a few days to put it all together. A well-thought-out piece (at least that’s what I think I’m putting out) with a voiceover, images, edits, assembling onto the Substack platform, takes a significant amount of time.
The truth is growing on Substack is hard, but it’s particularly harder when you start with a pre-dominantly South Asian demographic. Over the past year, I’ve had the privilege of people subscribing from all over the world, from various backgrounds, but the truth remains that the challenges are very different for writers that start like me. Culturally, paid subscriptions are not the norm for people coming from this side of the world; that matched with inflation, weakening currencies, high cost of living, appalling tax levels – all these things that have hit our countries more than others (and that’s a whole other discussion on how global politics has impacted the lives of people from these regions so inequitably). Which is why, I’m actually beyond grateful to my paid subscribers living in Pakistan, who are facing a harsh economic climate right now, and if anyone from there, chooses to not purchase, no one understands this more than me ♡
the video above is an Instastory I’d shared when I started work on A Slow Afternoon
But these are the factors in play and with this current reality, I do wonder if I can sustain this. And I don’t say this from a place of disappointment at all, it is perfectly understandable because such a mindset naturally stems from all of the things I talked about above. But because of this general cultural sentiment and social media habits that have built up over time, what has unfortunately ended up happening, is that most people of South Asian origin who live in other geographies and can actually purchase in dollars or pounds, still don’t believe in paying for content.
Over the last year, I saw so many popular, international bloggers & influencers with Instagram followings similar to me, who started their Substacks after mine, grow to subscriber bases of 20,000 to 50,000 within a matter of weeks, and of course there are always several differing reasons including the fact that some people are doing excellent work and deserve all the success. But it’s also because their audiences have warmed up to the idea of paid content and there isn’t as much resistance.
I was actually talking to one of my subscribers about this some months ago.
She had sent me the warmest message about one of the issues and when I thanked her, she said something that really made me stop and think. In her words, and I asked for her permission to share this, she said,
“Shehzeen, buying your newsletter has been one of the best choices I made this year because it’s given me so much insight into my own habits. I was someone who wouldn’t think twice before picking up something for $5 at a Walmart that would actually be disposable, but I deliberated for weeks over buying your newsletter for the same amount”.
And we went on to talk other things, but it really stuck with me that truly our societal habits have evolved in a way that we are much more comfortable around disposability.
And honestly for me, it highlighted the contrasts in our behavior patterns that have emerged over just a couple of decades. Do you remember there was a time when we used to buy all content that we consumed? We’d rent movies from the video store, that actually even had to be returned after some time, so we were spending on things we didn’t even own. We’d buy our music on cassettes and CDs. Newspapers, magazines, books, all were subscribed and paid for. And it wasn’t just one piece of content, we’d pick up several in the span of a month, because that’s how we understood entertainment.
Of course, times change, and I don’t mean at all that we shouldn’t evolve to new systems or enjoy the access that modern internet has allowed us. I think it’s counterproductive to be constantly nostalgic for a different time.
Because evolution and advancement is what unlocks doors for society. In fact, my own career, my own following on Instagram, has been made possible because of open content. But it is a reality, that open can often lead to excess, and what excess consumption does for us is that it takes away the value that we attach to things. So, when I say this, my point is not so much about being nostalgic for a past time, but knowing what principles are important to retain from it when it comes to our personal health. I know that having open streaming of shows and movies led me to watching so much average content at one time, because it just happened to be there. The infinite scroll, the constant swiping. I personally think the term ‘free’ is subjective, because we end up paying through several other things like our damaged attention spans, time leaks that we don’t even realise, the lack of patience, a general dehumanisation of people online, but that’s a separate discussion.
I consciously didn’t bring up this conversation until now, when I have A Slow Afternoon at a relatively sustainable income, because I didn’t want my perspective to come off as a grievance, but from a place of understanding the landscape. I think, writers from my demographic on Substack don’t fare or earn even 10% as well as those from the Western world, if their audience doesn’t diversify (this may be true for other POC demographics too, I don’t have experience). But I want to make space for this point-of-view because there’s not enough of it and I believe that conversations like these are important for evolution.
But for all the grey skies, there are also those with sunshine.
And so right now I want to thank you, my dearest, most generous subscribers, for supporting my work.
Those of you who got annual subscriptions before I had even sent out my first issue, because you knew my writings, you knew my work, you believed in me. Those of you made the choice to gift this to your wives or your best friends. Those who shared the issues, asked others to subscribe. You are the soul of this. You are my biggest win. And the only reason I am able to deliver this each month is because I have you to lean on. You don’t know what your contribution does, not just for me, but for the community at large. Because I trust that it’s choices like these, that slowly shift the narrative.
This is rapidly evolving into the awards speech version for common folks, but I want to share some of the love that came from my personal relationships as well. You know, I’m someone who truly doesn’t expect people that I know, to read each issue. Everyone’s busy and it’s no one’s responsibility to support anyone’s work, it’s completely alright if someone’s not able to do that. But when some people stand by your side without you asking, it’s one of the most special feelings in the world.
My sister who I sent a gift subscription to and that she rejected and bought an annual one anyway. My friend, Sumika who highlights her favorite parts from each issue and sends them to me each month without fail. My friend, Palwasha who sends the most heartfelt voice notes about what I write and gives the most genuine advice when I need it. My friend, Sidra who I asked to review an issue that I was nervous to publish, and she had clicked open on it 5 seconds after I’d sent the draft link to her. My friend, Mehwesh who bought the annual subscription, that when I refunded and sent back to her, she proceeded to buy another as a gift for her friend. My friend, Ahsan who listens to the voiceovers each month and sends appreciation for them every single time, and even made the time to catch up on the older ones because he had subscribed later. My friend, Aqsa who talks with such sincerity about what I write and how different parts have helped her through some difficult things in life.
All of these people have full families, jobs, a hundred things to do. And yet they show up for me. I am so grateful for them.
Another spark of light came about three months ago.
I was lying in bed one night, just catching up on my messages, that I got a popup on my phone screen from Substack. It was their global Substack Writers page so I almost ignored it thinking it must be a general “all” tag. Why would they even know I exist.
But it turned out that they had shared my voiceovers as one of the examples for how to read out your newsletters for your audience.
Not only did it make my entire year in many ways but also sent a bunch of new subscribers my way from so many different backgrounds.
But you know the most wonderful part of it for me? It’s a voiceover in my own native accent. And I was the only recommended voiceover in an ethnic accent, so to say, in that post. Those of us who are immigrants, we know that South Asian accents aren’t the most loved, we all know the jokes that have been made around them in the past, and a lot of us alter the way we speak to fit in better (and by that I don’t mean the natural changes that happen as you assimilate). We’ve grown up hearing of all these other accents as being desirable and sexy – French, Italian, British - but you’d never hear of a desi, brown person’s accent being that. And a large part of growing comfortable in who I am, has also been about owning the way I speak. And when I’d started doing these voiceovers, my hope had been just that. Not because it’s more special, but because it’s equally special in its own way. And I just wanted for anyone who may feel less in some way, to just understand the beauty of that.
The other day I received an email from a paid subscriber who had signed up right at the time I launched.
I was making dinner and had been hanging around the kitchen waiting for the oven timer to go off. As I read through that email, it felt like all the love and thought that I’d poured into A Slow Afternoon, had melded together and come back to me as a warm, beautiful hug. I’m going to read out some of it to you.
“Dearest Shehzeen,
I wanted to send this to thank you for A Slow Afternoon.
When I subscribed last year, it was a lot out of love for who you are. But as the months rolled by and your issues kept coming in, I started to understand all the things you had said at that time. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t thought much about all the things you spoke of in your first post. But month on month, waiting for your newsletter to arrive, getting excited to see it pop up, opened my mind like you wouldn’t believe. The fact that each issue is so relatable. My life looks nothing like yours, yet I always find a connection with the purity of your words. I’ve probably read each issue more than two or three times. It’s something you constantly want to go back to. And the fact that you don’t have comments open. Your newsletter is the only place where my mind actually rests after finishing something. I had found myself obsessively scrolling through comment threads and I think I don’t even know how “I” feel about anything. My own personal thought has been so compromised. I have had a difficult last year, and you have been my comfort all this time….
”
The email goes on with some personal details but these parts relevant to A Slow Afternoon almost made me cry.
You know, I had tried a couple of experiments that typically not many people were doing here on Substack when I started. Not keeping comments open was a hard one for me because having public comments increases engagement, allows open feedback for others to see. But I consciously wanted some features and joys of old-school traditional reading that I miss in my own daily life. We used to read the paper or a magazine article and then either share it with one or more persons next to us, or bring it up later in a dinner table conversation. Our minds had time to process what we consumed, for us to develop our own critical thinking.
Now, pretty much most online articles and opinion pieces lead into bustling comment sections that have several threads of conversation open before you’ve even had a chance to fully process what you just read. Of course, comments also drive thriving discussions and an exchange of ideas, so I do appreciate them. But I wanted to have at least one corner of the internet where you could read in peace, let the ideas marinate in your head for a while, with nothing interfering with your own chain of thought, and then go on to discuss with someone close to you.
I didn’t know if choices like these would even work or if it was the right thing to do, and I still don’t have any way of measuring it, other than these beautiful emails and messages that my subscribers send from time to time.
Nabeel just looked into my screen, and he’s horrified at the length of this so I’m going to start wrapping up. You know, a year later I also realise how writing A Slow Afternoon has changed me. Shorter, faster content doesn’t just take away from the consumer, but also from the creator. Everyday instastories, short videos that the platform demands, it had all incapacitated me from being able to express myself in longform.
When I sat down to write the first few issues, I knew what I wanted to say but I found that I just couldn’t write. I almost had a panic attack thinking, had I made the wrong choice? Was I not able to write anymore? Now months later, I feel restored. It still takes me a couple of days to do the writing part of each issue, but the words flow naturally. It’s surreal how modern life has taken so many things away from us and we don’t even know.
So, what do I want the next year for A Slow Afternoon to look like?
I’m planning to share the monthly issues around more personal stories, make it more life-centric. I think the world is only going to get busier and I want to offer something that lets your brain rest. I think information is stimulating, but wisdom is healing. And while I always want you to have something of value to take away from these issues, but I think I want them to be more grounded in the soft intelligence of our everyday stories. I hope to go back even closer to the days of my blog.
If I’m able to increase the subscriber base more, I really want to add another third, very short series that I know you’ll love and will be able to easily accommodate into your routines. But that means I’d have to give it more time which can only be made possible with a larger base, so let’s see.
If you’ve been getting these in your email and have been looking forward to them, I’d love it if you thought about becoming a paid subscriber. If it helps, it's pretty much the price of just one coffee a month, in most places. It costs $5/month – that’s Australian dollars, so it’s even less in US, Canadian or the British Pound. And if you’d like, you could also get an annual subscription at a slightly reduced rate of $50 for the whole year.
As a paid subscriber, this what you’ll receive in your email:
The main issue, on the first Friday of each month: I choose one topic and write a personal essay with everyday stories and general life musings around it
Breakfast Chats that is a shorter series, on the third Friday of each month: It’s a collection of four to five different things; something I talked to a friend about, general things from my routine those days, weekend plans. This one is also open to my free subscribers for all of 2024.
All the issues come with voiceovers so you can either read or listen or do both. And you can also access past issues. I’ll share some of the ones that I’ve gotten the most love for: Rediscovering the joy of reading, Gatherings at home & Food Modesty, An evening in my home.
I want to always make sure that a percentage of my earnings, and your subscriptions, are donated to a deserving cause. Last year, we donated to the Somalia Hunger Crisis and I’ll share who I’ll be doing for this year soon.
Words are healing to write, and healing to read.
I thank you once again for helping me do this. See you in two weeks with this month’s issue of Breakfast Chats. If you have the time, don’t forget to drop a like on the heart icon, if you enjoyed this issue ♡