What Substack Isn’t Telling You About Its Paid Tier

Here’s what nobody told me before I turned mine on.

Ten things Substack isn't telling you about its paid tier. How the Rising category works, what the new sponsorship program means, and everything I wish I'd known before I turned mine on.

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A few weeks ago, I wrote about the unspoken culture here on Substack. It took off in a way I didn’t see coming. Which, honestly, is how most good things happen here. One question kept coming up: Okay, but what about the paid tier?

When you’re new, the paid tier can feel like a whole other level you haven’t earned yet. Something to figure out when you have enough subscribers and know what you’re doing. This piece is my attempt to demystify it, because most of what I believed about it when I started turned out to be wrong.

Maybe you’re here to build something. Or you started the way I did, mostly just wanting a place to think out loud and meet interesting people. Either way, I’d still argue that turning on paid is the smart play.

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1. The velvet rope nobody told you about.

Only accounts with paid turned on are eligible to appear in the Rising category, Substack’s built-in discovery engine. Every time I pick up a paid subscriber, I land on it. Every time I land on it, I get new free subscribers.

I have friends who keep all their content free, but turned on paid just for this. The platform doesn’t advertise how Rising works. I don’t know why. I only figured it out myself by posting a note asking my community to explain what the deal was.

2. Your Stephanie.

In my early days, a couple of family members and irl friends upgraded to support me, which meant a lot. What I didn’t expect was someone I’d never spoken to doing the same.

Stephanie Dianne was one of my first paid subscribers, a writer I’d barely interacted with on the platform. When I reached out to thank her, she said she loved the writing and simply wanted to cheer me on.

Turns out readers aren’t always buying a product. Sometimes they’re supporting the process. I believe the universe is responsive and moves toward what we’re ready to accept. Stephanie was my first proof of that on this platform.

3. Show me the money.

You know the scene. Rod Tidwell, on the phone, screams, " Show me the money,” until Jerry Maguire screams it back. It’s a lot. But the first time a stranger pays you for your writing, you understand it completely.

When a deposit hits your account for writing, everything feels different.

4. The checkmarks are a whole thing.

There are three Bestseller badges on Substack, and they’re color-coded by how many paid subscribers you have.

White means hundreds, starting around 100 paid subscribers. Orange means thousands. Purple means tens of thousands, which is where writers like Heather Cox Richardson live, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The badges appear next to your name everywhere: your byline, profile, and the comments section. They’re the platform’s version of social proof. Readers use them to decide whether to take a chance on someone new. That checkmark is working for you while you’re not looking.

You cannot earn any of them with paid turned off. This seems obvious and yet.

I’m sitting at 60 paid subscribers right now. Forty people away from the white badge. When I started, I was crawling to hit 100 free subscribers. I couldn’t have imagined it then.

5. Turning it on unlocks another game.

I turned on paid, thinking it was a paywall. It’s actually an architecture.

Three tiers: monthly, annual, and founding member. Each one is a different promise at a different price.

Monthly gets access. Annual gets a discount and maybe something extra. In my paid tier, that’s a 30-minute one-on-one strategy session with me. Founding members pay more and get more: exclusive content, direct access, whatever you decide the highest level of support is worth. Some writers charge $100 a year. Others charge $250.

Substack is rolling out a Perks page to Bestsellers: a dedicated tab where each tier gets its own distinct offerings, with real unlock buttons your readers can actually find.

This is what the platform is building toward. You want to be in it.

6. Substack just launched a sponsorship program. Last week.

On June 15th, Substack announced its native sponsorship program. Uber, T-Mobile, Balenciaga. Real brands are committing real money to creators on the platform. Most people haven’t heard about it yet.

Here’s how it works: Bestsellers have access to something called a Creator Kit, a media kit you publish to signal you’re open to brand partnerships. Substack does the matchmaking. They handle logistics, negotiation, and the admin. You keep full editorial control and choose who you work with.

I’ve had sponsored posts on my old WordPress blog. Some brands found me. Others, I pitched myself. Either way, a single post could exceed months of subscription revenue. This program removes that hustle entirely.

The program is rolling out to Bestsellers first. Which is one more reason to get there.
Details are still coming out. Worth watching closely.

7. Launch ugly.

I turned on paid at 600 subscribers and immediately wished I’d done it sooner.

I launched with a very loose offer. It didn’t convert. I’ve changed direction, dropped what wasn’t working, and tried ideas nobody asked for.

That’s the game. And it’s a better game to play when you’re smaller. Fewer subscribers mean more room to experiment, adjust, and find out what people will actually pay for. A small account is a low-stakes laboratory.

It’s a process, not an event. You want to start that process now.

8. The intimate part.

As your publication grows, it becomes impossible to go deep with everyone. You can’t read all the posts, respond to every comment, and know each name.

The paid tier changes that. Mine has become a small, committed group showing up consistently. Their wins start to feel like your wins. When someone in that circle lands their first paid subscriber, you feel it.

It gets quieter in there. In the best way.

9. Consider it the gateway drug.

A paid tier has a way of opening doors you didn’t know to knock on. I’ve watched writers start here and end up with courses, books, programs, products, podcasts, and soon sponsored content. This is where it tends to begin.

Consider it the gateway drug. Take the first step and see.

10. Not everyone gets to play.

Substack runs on Stripe, which means entire regions of the world can’t participate in paid subscriptions at all. I have friends I’ve made here who are in that position, writers I love, doing real work, with no way to turn on paid even if they wanted to.

If you know those writers, go the extra mile. Visit their Gumroad. Buy them a coffee. Purchase their book. Saying I see you can look a lot of different ways.

Two of my favorite non-Stripe accounts: Mahmoud Owies in Egypt and Goodnex in Africa. Go say hello.

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More of this is coming. Next up: a look at some of my favorite paid tiers on Substack, what’s working in them, and what you might steal for your own.

For now, just turn it on.

Kindest,
Shannon

What’s your Stephanie story? I’d love to hear it. Hit reply or leave it in the comments.

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Want to know more about what we’re building? Click the article below for more on The Flow Room: