A new kind of media career emerged somewhere between the LinkedIn farewell posts and the layoff notices. It didn’t make a manifesto announcement. It simply kept showing up in inboxes week after week, written by people who had previously worked at the Washington Post, CNN, or The Atlantic but had decided, for a variety of reasons, that they would prefer not to. This drift was not created by Substack. It just created a neat landing spot.
When you squint at the numbers, they become alluring. Together, the top ten publications on the platform earn roughly $40 million annually. Now, over fifty authors have achieved seven figures. Reading those numbers gives the impression that a parallel media economy is subtly outperforming the one that most of us were raised in. It’s another matter entirely whether that economy is long-lasting or merely a brief, well-lit moment.
| Topic Information | Details |
|---|---|
| Subject | Substack and the rise of independent writer income |
| Platform launch year | 2017 |
| Paid subscriptions reported | Over 1 million (Nov 2021); growing since |
| Top 10 publications combined revenue | Around $40 million annually |
| Writers earning $1M+ | More than 50 authors |
| Average journalist salary (BLS) | Just over $57,000 |
| Notable departures from legacy media | Terry Moran, Karen Attiah, Jennifer Rubin, Norm Eisen |
| Washington Post layoffs (Feb 2026) | More than 300 staff |
| Project C founder | Liz Kelly Nelson, former WaPo blogger |
| Revenue model | Reader subscriptions, no ads |
| Common entry point | Free newsletter, paid tier added later |
It’s remarkable how ordinary success frequently appears up close. Sarah Fay didn’t come to the platform with a plan; instead, she created a publication that teaches other writers how to use Substack. Her publisher encouraged her to pursue it in order to promote a memoir, and she acknowledges that her first newsletter was dormant for two years until a single phone conversation with someone at Substack altered the course of events. She now makes more than $200,000 annually by educating others about the platform. It has a recursive quality that feels both very Gold Rush and very 2026, with writers selling shovels to other writers.
It’s not quite the romantic uprising that is sometimes portrayed as the departure from legacy outlets. A few authors were shoved. Before Karen Attiah arrived at Substack, she was fired. Others, such as Jennifer Rubin, left by citing corporate ownership priorities, which is a courteous way of expressing a certain type of exhaustion. Additionally, there is the constant background noise of layoffs: broadcast consolidations engulfing entire newsrooms, the Post laying off over 300 employees in February, and McClatchy dismantling its breaking news desk in November of last year. Being self-sufficient begins to resemble math more than ambition.
However, it’s simple to confuse the obvious winners with the typical experience. Most Substack writers make very little or nothing at all. The median earnings, which you would want to know before leaving your job, are not disclosed by Substack itself. According to the math the platform likes to use, 1,000 paying subscribers at $5 a month equals about $50,000 annually. The part that takes years or never occurs at all is gaining those thousand subscribers.

However, something has changed, and it seems dishonest to act otherwise. Twenty years ago, there were two viable options for a journalist who wanted to leave the newsroom: launch a business or a nonprofit. Substack, YouTube, TikTok, podcast networks, and combinations of all four are now available on the menu, according to Liz Kelly Nelson, director of Project C, a training organization. Different skills are needed. Some people feel their dignity has been restored.
It’s really unclear what this will look like in five years. Perhaps the platform produces its next generation of millionaires while the legacy outlets continue to shrink until the distinction becomes meaningless. Perhaps inboxes begin to resemble the jumbled cable bundles from which people initially fled as audience fatigue sets in. For now, the old buildings on K Street and Eighth Avenue continue to grow quieter, the writers continue to come, and the subscribers continue to pay.


