My Path to Finding My Substack DNA
In discovering what my Substack is about, I had to first remember who I really am
I began exploring Substack in February of 2025. I’d never been on the platform before but was looking for a place to write in resistance to Donald Trump’s regime. I wanted to post essays and beautiful photography in response to the daily destructive upheaval. My goal: to inform, inspire and help people find courage and joy in this era of growing autocracy.
I described my Substack as, “A creative sanctuary where people come to build resilience, boost courage and reclaim joy in this time of chaos and great uncertainty.” That was my targeted focus. My weekly newsletters included a short essay or inspiring poem about meeting this moment, photography (often my own nature photos), and an evocative prompt for writing, meditation, or conversation.
I’ve created each post with care, and I like what I’ve created. But what I’m realizing is that I’ve put myself in too small of a box. What I bring to the table is so much more than just my resistance to this want-to-be king. That’s often at the top of my mind these days, but I’ve had a 40-year career writing books, teaching writing workshops and retreats, inspiring others. And I want to bring all that to Substack.
I’ve already been doing it in Notes (for those of you not on the platform, that’s Substack’s internal social media), but the newsletter I email out each week has retained its narrower focus. And I’m finding myself chafing at the very constraints I created.
So, for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been wrestling with the question
has been asking her Substack Writers at Work, “What’s your Substack’s DNA? What do you want your own little corner of the internet to be?”For me that question boils down to, “How have I shown up in the world all these years?” And “How can I best serve this broken world now?”
And metrics can’t tell me the answers.
The one thing I’m certain about at this stage of life, is that the only way to show up is as myself. I am way beyond trying to shoehorn myself into a false persona that might generate more likes, restacks, or workshop registrations.
As Tina Brown put it in her Substack, FRESH HELL Tina Brown's Diary, “In the third trimester of my life, I can’t pretend to be anyone other than who I truly am.”
But what did that mean for my Substack?
For me that question boils down to, “How have I shown up in the world all these years?” And “How can I best serve this broken world now?” And metrics can’t tell me the answers.
When I’ve faced crossroads before, in life and in my career, I’ve relied on others to help me think things through. Although I’m introverted in many ways, I’m an extrovert when it comes to processing my thoughts, direction, dilemmas, and decisions. I have crowd-sourced my life on many occasions.
When I was 28, I brought together a group of friends and colleagues to help me think through my next career move. I had recently returned from two years working in radio in Ketchikan, Alaska, was living in San Francisco, had three part-time media jobs to pay the rent, and no idea what to do next with my life.
In exchange for a home-cooked meal, my friends filled out a four-page questionnaire about me and listened to me give a presentation about my work preferences and priorities. That was a big ask and took a lot of chutzpah, but it was at that meeting, in conversation with Ellen Bass, that our 1988 bestseller, The Courage to Heal, was born.
With each of the seven books I’ve written, I’ve relied on multiple beta readers for input and feedback on draft after draft. The title of my memoir, The Burning Light of Two Stars, came out of a last minute crowd-sourcing request on Facebook (a story I’ll tell another time).
And it’s not just work-related. When I face a personal dilemma, I have a small circle of intimates I rely on for reflection and input. In listening to them, I come to know my own my own mind. My own heart.
So, in considering the DNA of my Substack, it’s not surprising that I emailed a dozen people who know me well—long-time friends and long-time students—to ask, “What do you think it is I do? What’s the underlying structure that ties it all together?”
My wife Karyn’s yoga teacher, Kofi Busia, calls this his teleology—his core philosophy as a teacher about what he wants his students to receive.
So, I’ve been asking myself: For the past forty years as a writer, author and teacher, what’s my teleology? What the core offering I put out in the world again and again?
I knew that’s where I’d find my Substack DNA.
Within a few days, responses started arriving in my inbox:
“You are a writing teacher, but one of your greatest gifts is being a community builder.”
“You show up authentically as Laura every time I take a course with you. That makes me trust you.”
“You model the courage to speak your truth as you invite your students to tell theirs.”
“As a teacher, you demonstrate a remarkable combination of rigor, honesty, humility, and compassion. You have deep seriousness when it comes to the craft and ethics of writing and a selfless commitment to helping people who might not otherwise have a chance to share their story.”
“You offer a safe space for writers to deeply connect with themselves through their own writing, and to connect deeply with other writers who wish to do the same.”
“You always have a wonderful, intuitive sense of what will bring us closer to ourselves and to each other.”
“You bring healing, community, and love into the world. These gifts are accompanied by courage and grace in truth-telling without judgement, criticism, or blame. It is the nurture and care of the human heart that sets you apart from other writing teachers. You are not just teaching a writing class; your pedagogy is transformative.”
Wow. It was amazing to receive these reflections, to really take them in.
So, that’s what I do?
Now how do I take that and translate it into my Substack DNA?
When I heard back from my writing teacher, Carolyn Brigit Flynn, she offered a simple suggestion. “Laura, why don’t you look at your website?”
Oh...that was a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?
The truth is I never really look at my website. I’ve had one for decades. I update it. I change things up. I’ve redesigned it half a dozen times, hired new webmasters, moved to new platforms. But actually read it to discover its essential message?
No, I haven’t done that. Until now.
I clicked over to lauradavis.net, and voilà. In two clicks, I found this statement on my “About page” that I’d completely forgotten:
“I love teaching. It is truly the work of my heart. I love watching my students find their true stories and discover the courage to put them on the page. I feel like a midwife as my students birth their stories, honored to witness their bursts of creativity and pure life energy pouring out on the page. Our writing circles are safe places where skills are honed, tears and laughter are welcome, and each writer is seen, heard and deeply known.
I'll tell you a secret. People think of me as an author and a writing teacher, and I am those things, but the real truth is the thing I love most is building community. I have been connecting people with each other and in intimate groups my whole adult life. It brings me joy to work in groups and facilitate the lasting bonds that are formed when words are shared in safe, trusting circles. My goal as a teacher is to create a safe place where people can have breakthroughs in their writing—and in their lives—both on and offline.”
Okay, so now I was getting somewhere. Although I can tell someone how to rewrite a scene to make it more compelling or explain what is and isn’t working in a piece of writing, that’s not the real core of what I offer.
I'll tell you a secret. People think of me as an author and a writing teacher, and I am those things, but the real truth is the thing I love most is building community.
To discover how to bring that essence to Substack, I needed to talk to Karen Zelin, sister-friend of my heart for 45 years. I asked what she saw as my teleology.
Karen replied immediately, “Your teleology is so clear to me, and I think it’s already really clear to you.”
I started nodding because it’s obvious what pours out of me that I can’t stop even if I wanted to.
Karen continued. “The question you face is how to open your Substack in a way that’s more inclusive of all of who you are. What does building your kind of community look like on this new platform?”
When I read Karen the sentence that currently defines my Substack: “A creative sanctuary where people come to build resilience, boost courage and reclaim joy in this time of chaos and great uncertainty,” she had an immediate, visceral response.
“When you said ‘creative sanctuary’ I said, ‘Ahhh...’ It made me think of all the people you’ve touched who’ve come seeking sanctuary, refuge, and inspiration. But the rest of the sentence closes the space. You opened the space, invited people in, and then defined the entry requirements.
“What you wrote is reactive, not true to your overall teleology. You create sacred space. That’s what you do. What you’ve written there is timebound, and you are not timebound.”
Well, that was all I needed to hear. It didn’t take long, maybe two minutes, for me to clarify my teleology in a single sentence: “I create sacred spaces for people to experience their deepest selves through writing in community.”
Building safe, supportive communities fueled by writing is my superpower.
Now I just have to discover how to create that on Substack.
Stay tuned.
Now here’s your prompt. You can write to it, meditate on it, discuss it over dinner.
PROMPT: What’s your teleology? Your core life purpose? How are you meant to shine out into the world? And how did you discover that?
As always, I invite you to share your thoughts in the comments.
And remember, every time you click the heart, leave a comment or share a post, you’re making it easier for new readers to discover The Writer’s Journey.
WRITE WITH LAURA
The work of my heart is to teach.
I have spaces coming up in my ongoing weekly writing classes on Zoom.
I teach two different types of classes:
A weekly writing practice class that focuses on generating raw material in a safe, intimate setting. All are welcome.
Feedback classes provide an opportunity for narrative writers to present and get feedback on work in progress from a master teacher and supportive peers. Screening required.
Weekly Writing Practice Class: This Wednesday class has met weekly for 25 years. We meet on Zoom, write to prompts, and share intimately in a sacred circle. You can attend from anywhere. Openings now.
Weekly Feedback Classes: My Thursday Zoom feedback classes are for writers working on a long-term narrative projects who seek a master teacher and a supportive group of peers to support you, critique your work, and keep you moving forward toward your goals This intimate, supportive group is limited to 12 students. Screening required.
Dear Laura,
Have been wanting to respond to your email and will do so here by adding that you also have the rare gift of seeing others deeply and reflecting back to them their best selves and their value. And the courage to go down into the often painful darkness and translate it into accessible language. And your quiet generosity and willingness to be imperfect. Thank you for your friendship, caring and support. Much love and appreciation, Shauna
I think your vulnerability and transparency -- which you have so beautifully demonstrated with this post -- is a big part of your Substack DNA in helping people feel safe experiencing, and expressing, their deepest selves. So I'd say your teleology is spot on!