I finally started a Substack.

Here's everything you need to know.

This newsletter looks different. That’s because it is different.

I’ve migrated The Process to Substack. This relocation has taken a considerable amount of time and effort. Hence why you haven’t heard from me in well over a month.

I shed light on why I made this decision further down the page. But, before we get into all of that, let’s do a bit of housekeeping.

What will stay the same?

The Process will continue to remain entirely free.

However, it will no longer arrive weekly (at least not to free subscribers). Will there be months I get frisky and send you more than one issue? Absolutely. However, from my experience, it’s better to underpromise and overdeliver.

Despite this change in frequency, my hope is The Process becomes more valuable to you. Not less so.

I’m in the process—not pun intended—of editing, refining and polishing the thousands of poems, essays and musings I’ve written over the years.

A lifetime of coffees with you—by and large my most popular poem to date—was published on the first of this month.

Apple, Basquiat, Nike and Woolf—a newly written essay exploring the bewitching power of naming—was published a week prior.

Substack finally gives me a home where all of my writing can live together. That said, you should keep a close eye on cole.rip. I’m publishing various works there daily, much of which will be available to free subscribers.

What will change?

I’m now offering a paid version of The Process.

This paid tier will be for readers who would like to:

1. Hear from me weekly

2. Access my rawest essays, poems and musings

3. Attend my quarterly AMA (ask me anything)

I’ve tried to be very thoughtful and intentional about the work I keep under lock and key. Many writers will gate work that readers can still access for free someplace else.

This always leaves the subscriber handing over their hard-earned money, feeling like they’ve been fucked six ways to Sunday.

If something is “gated” in The Process, it means you won’t find it anywhere else.

This doesn’t mean it hasn’t appeared somewhere online—or in a previous newsletter—at some point or another. But, it does mean I’ve tracked those links down and yanked them up by the root.

Quit the game is an essay that has never seen the light of day. It’s a 2,000-word voyage into the strange landscape that is modern dating. It reads like a guest feature in Carrie Bradshaw’s Sex and the City.

I forgot to say thank you is a poem I wrote after my grandfather’s passing. It appeared on Instagram a year ago but is no longer available to the public—since making the choice to deactivate my account a couple of months back (more on that later).

Admittedly, there isn’t some grand strategy behind which work I’m gating and which work I’m not. If something I’ve written feels vulnerable—as if I’ve been asked to strip naked and walk through the frozen food section of a Walmart—I toss it behind bars.

It’s as simple as that.

How much will it cost?

Pricing will forever be a quaandry.

Despite working in advertising for nearly a decade, I’ve yet to discover the formula for a perfectly priced product.

When I’m advising brands on the basis of pricing at Honey, I tell them to charge whatever the hell they want. But, to make certain they are giving the customer more than they pay for.

This is what I intend to do with the paid tier of The Process.

I landed at $12/month—or $120/year with an annual commitment—for paid subscribers. At that price point, I am certain I can give subscribers a great deal more than they pay for.

After factoring in tips, that’s less than what I spend on coffee each day.

In addition to the paid tier, you will also notice a Founding Member tier. This is for my most loyal readers who’ve been following me from the beginning—back when I was still a twenty-two-year-old aspiring writer, tearing out carpet for $15 an hour.

If you choose to enroll in the Founding Member tier, please email your physical address to cole@coleschafer.com.

I will be sending you a gift in the mail composed of:

• All three of my poetry books, signed.

• One typewritten poem, signed

• A physical token

At the risk of sounding self-assured, my stock as a writer is only going up.

Judging by the pace at which I live, I will likely be incinerated into ashes before you. In the meantime, I will continue to write my heart out. It is my hope the resale value of these signed works will cover your founding membership a few times over.

But, give me some time—this kid has a few more pages to blacken.

What are notes?

Notes is Substack’s version of a Twitter feed.

When I first arrived on Substack, I was skeptical of the feature. However, it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with it.

Writing comes with a hell of a lot of pressure. Notes lets me play.

My mind is a never-ending stream of ideas, lines, quotes, mantras and various black and white photographs I’ve taken over the years.

Notes is where I get these thoughts out of my head. I add to it every 3-4 hours. My hope is that you find something on there, each day, that inspires you to create.

Please excuse the mess.

Not unlike most creatives, I struggle with perfectionism.

I was going to delay the launch of my Substack for another month or so. But, I woke up this morning realizing that postponing its release—simply for the sake of perfection—was the antithesis of what The Process is all about.

The creative process is messy. It’s beautiful. It’s chaotic. It’s courageous. It’s inherently imperfect. I want the creation of my Substack to be reflective of the creative process I so often write about.

That being said, you will have a front-row seat as I build this damn thing out over the next few months.

All I ask is that you show me grace as I work out the inevitable kinks.

Wait, but why?

Hold your horses. Not so fast.

That’s a much longer explanation. One that deserves its own newsletter. Tomorrow morning, I will be sharing my reasoning behind my decision to move The Process to Substack.

For now, visit cole.rip and have a look around.

---