Consistency is great. Inconsistency is better.

I’ve made at least 20 promises online to be consistent about various things.

Posting TikToks once a day till the end of the year.

Posting YouTube videos once a month.

Exercising a minimum of three times a week. The list goes on.

And invariably I get mad with myself, depressed or some combination of the two as life generally decides to take over, or I get overburdened with so many things to do that I can’t keep to my rigid and demanding schedule.

My Substack was something else that I added to that list. My plan was to post here once a month, slowly building from a subscriber base of my mum, my dad and my sister (I sincerely doubt that my wife is reading these) to a dedicated base of 10,000 paid subscribers, eagerly awaiting my weekly soliloquies on anything from advertising to Trump tariffs to the Clipse’s latest album.

However, those notions were slowly dashed, as I realised that it’s actually really hard to consistently think of a topic to write about longform each month with enough clarity to warrant other people reading it.

But then I saw this brilliant little post on my Substack feed: “Let’s normalize an inconsistent publishing schedule on Substack. Writers are not machines.”

And it really shook me to my core.

I’m a creative, not a machine. The phrase “you can’t rush greatness” rings true for me. When I write music, it normally spews out of me as musical note vomit all at once, but then I may not compose something for ages. Just because I’m not consistently finishing off a perfect symphony every week doesn’t mean my work isn’t worth listening to, and so it is with my Substack. When I feel like posting, I will. Hopefully that will be every month, and sometimes it will be more often. Sometimes less.

But I’ll be a consistently inconsistent human here. And that’s good enough for me.