Robin Harford

Going viral means nothing. Here's why.

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 07:34:55 +0100

I’m going to say something that might sting a little.

That viral post you’re dreaming about? The one with thousands of likes, floods of comments, and a share count that makes your head spin? It probably won’t change your life. It might not even pay your electricity bill.

I know, because I’ve been there.

Not so long ago, I published a post on Instagram. I’d converted one of my articles into a flipbook format — text and images spread across ten slides, the kind of thing that stops the scroll. The headline asked: "Is there any intelligent life left on planet Earth?" Provocative, yes. Deliberately so. A question like that hooks curiosity before the reader even knows what they’re in for.

And it worked. By the numbers, it really worked.

The post pulled in 1,248 likes, 90 comments, and 88 saves. It reached over 9,000 accounts and clocked nearly 19,000 views. More than half of those came from people who didn’t follow me at all — strangers, drawn in by that headline, stopping their endless scroll long enough to look.

I should have been thrilled. I wasn’t.

Because here’s the number that actually matters: 45. That’s how many people clicked the link to find out more. Forty-five, out of nearly nineteen thousand views. And the revenue from all that reach, all those likes, all those strangers pausing their evening to engage with my work?

Zero. Nothing. Not a penny.

Now, I want to be fair to myself — and to you, if you’ve ever poured energy into a post that “did well” but left you wondering what you’d actually achieved. Going viral feels meaningful. The notifications rush in. People engage. You feel, briefly, like the world is paying attention.

But social media isn’t the world. It’s a river that never stops moving.

The moment your post appears, it starts sinking. Within hours, sometimes minutes, the algorithm has already decided what comes next. Another video. Another headline. Another burst of dopamine wrapped in a thumbnail. The reader who double-tapped your post forty seconds ago has already forgotten it. They’re not thinking about you. They’re on to the next thing, and the next, and the next.

This isn’t a criticism of those readers. It’s just the nature of the environment we’ve all agreed to play in.

What I’ve had to sit with — really sit with, honestly and uncomfortably — is the gap between visibility and value. They are not the same thing. A post can be seen by thousands and mean nothing to any of them. A single email, written to the right person at the right moment, can change everything.

Reach without relationship is noise.

The numbers I listed above tell a story, but not the one the algorithm wants you to believe. 257 new followers sounds encouraging until you ask what those followers did next. Most of them: nothing. Following someone on Instagram costs no effort and requires no commitment. It’s the digital equivalent of picking up a leaflet and putting it in your bag. Most leaflets end up in the bin.

I’m not saying social media is worthless. I’m saying it’s worth far less than we’re told, and far less than it feels in the moment a post takes off.

What actually builds something real? What actually creates a business, a readership, a community that shows up and does something?

Relationships do. Trust does. Showing up consistently, in the right places, for the right people — that does.

The followers who matter aren’t the ones who double-tapped at midnight because your headline made them curious. They’re the ones who sought you out, signed up to your list, came back the following week, and eventually bought something because they believed you had something genuine to offer.

You can’t manufacture that with a clever headline. You can only earn it, slowly, by being worth returning to.

So I’m not chasing virality any more. I’d rather have 100 people who genuinely care what I think than 10,000 who scrolled past me on a Tuesday evening and moved on. The first group changes things. The second group is just a statistic.

Here’s what I’d ask you to consider: where are you putting your energy? Are you building something that lasts, or are you optimising for a number that disappears the moment someone more interesting appears in the feed?

The answer to that question is worth more than any viral post I’ve ever made.

You’re not a customer, you’re a hostage.

Fri, 06 Mar 2026 10:51:00 +0100

I’ve been selling online since 2005.

And platforms keep pulling the same trick.

They attract you. They trap you. Then they squeeze you dry.

A friend of mine teaches Tai Chi.

Hundreds of videos. Years of work.

He uploaded everything to a platform that promised to handle it all.

Courses. Community. Hosting.

Weeks of work.

Then the email arrived.

Video hosting was being cut. New tiers. New pricing.

He moved platforms.

Uploaded everything again.

A year later — same story.

Cory Doctorow calls it ‘ enshittification ’.

Platforms start by serving you. Then they serve their investors.

Eventually they squeeze the people who built them.

You’re not a customer.

You’re a hostage.

The fix is simple.

Never build your house on someone else’s land.

Store your videos where video is the only job.

Vimeo, for instance.

Your course platform embeds them.

If the platform changes the rules?

Update the embed.

Five minutes instead of five weeks.

All-in-one platforms sell convenience.

What they’re really selling is dependency.

Rented ground dressed up as infrastructure.

I learned this the hard way.

Build on someone else’s land long enough, and the rules always change.

So here’s the question:

Which platform could destroy your business tomorrow if it changed the rules?

That’s the thing that needs fixing.

Why I quit Substack after 7 months with hundreds of paid subscribers

Tue, 03 Mar 2026 11:50:00 +0100

Substack is not playing for you. They’re playing for their private investors. And whilst you’re patting yourself on the back for building an audience, they’re taking 10% of everything you earn and quietly locking you inside their gilded cage.

Independence? Freedom? Forget it.

I learned this the hard way. Let me tell you about my seven-month nightmare and why I jumped ship just in time.

Late 2023, I’m in the interior of India. Smartphones everywhere. Everyone’s running their business from WhatsApp and Facebook. 285 million self-employed people pimping off megacorp platforms.

So I thought, why not? Let’s see how hard it is to run a publishing project from my phone.

I came back to Europe in early 2024 and decided to give Substack a go.

I exported my disengaged subscribers from Kit, imported them into Substack, and started posting. And honestly? I loved it. Tapping away on my phone in IA Writer, using markdown, clicking ‘post’ to publish.

What’s not to like?

90% of my site traffic is mobile anyway. Design aesthetics don’t matter as much as clarity. As a publisher, I want my readers to read my words easily, without distraction.

In the beginning, Substack was perfect for this.

Within seven months, I’d grown from 9,000 to over 15,000 free subscribers. Not bad for a lazy arse publisher who made his first post on 13th May 2024.

I had over 250 paid subscribers. Bestseller status. Preferential treatment. The whole shebang.

And then I’d had enough.

My last post? 22nd December 2024. Seven months and nine days after my first.

Here’s what Substack won’t advertise on their landing pages.

When I looked at where my paid subscribers actually came from, 90% were from my own efforts. Barely any came from their vaunted network effect.

You know what Substack’s network found me? Lots of free subscribers. Tyre kickers. Time wasters. Not all subscribers are equal. Remember that.

But things had started getting out of control.

I couldn’t organise content the way I wanted. Not even with sections. Not even with custom-built Maps of Content pages. Nothing worked.

Plus, Substack has become more and more like a social network. Distraction everywhere. Busyness everywhere. Noise everywhere.

It was not a place of calm.

And calm? That’s essential in my niche. Essential to my subscribers.

The feedback started rolling in. Paid subscribers found it confusing. Too noisy. Too distracting. They were getting pushed other people’s content when all they wanted was mine.

I’d been bigging up Substack before this. Writing about how great it was. Recommending it to others.

Time for some humble pie.

Because I now see it as exactly what it is: a digital cage. Something to avoid at all costs.

So how did I move 250+ paid subscribers off Substack and onto WordPress?

Let me be blunt. It was a f*&$@!g nightmare.

Over seven months, I’d offered my subscription at different prices. Anyone below a certain threshold got a pro-rated refund. Monthly subs got cancelled. And then I slowly, manually went through the remaining 200 paid subscribers and cancelled their recurring billing one by one.

You know what my subscribers said when I told them what was happening?

“Thank God for that.”

Pretty much unanimous. They were fed up being pushed other people’s content. They didn’t like the coercion of recurring billing (neither do I). They didn’t like how confusing and busy Substack had become.

Was It Worth It?
Yes. Absolutely.

I ran this Substack test for two reasons:

First, to see how easy it would be to emulate what’s happening in India, running a publishing business from my phone.

Second, to clarify how I wanted to structure my newsletter. Many ideas worked. Many didn’t.

As a minimum viable product test? Brilliant. I’m now crystal clear on how I want to teach the citizens in my world.

Should I have left three months in? Probably. Would’ve been less hassle migrating people out. Fewer posts to migrate over. But still, it’s been a great learning experience.

And fortunately, my delightful citizens are very patient and forgiving.

Not all subscribers are equal.

Read that again. Not all subscribers are equal.

Free subscribers from a network effect are not the same as engaged subscribers who found you and chose to pay you directly.

If you want to run a newsletter without handing over 10% and your independence, here’s what works:

The Low-Cost, Hyper-Minimal Tech Stack

To continue building your digital toolkit, you can integrate your communication and storage systems using a simple, two-step process.

Audience Engagement and Monetisation

Kit serves as a dual-purpose platform for growing and managing your audience:

Landing Pages: Use their built-in landing page builder to create a dedicated space for capturing new subscribers.
Email Newsletters: Once you have a list, you can send regular updates or premium newsletters.
Payments: If you choose to offer a paid subscription, the platform allows you to accept payments directly for premium content.

Content Hosting and Distribution

For the materials you share within your newsletters, use Google Drive as your central repository:

File Storage: Use it to host diverse media, including PDFs, videos, and audio files.
Educational Resources: It is an ideal place for any teaching materials or worksheets.
Seamless Linking: You can easily generate shareable links for these files to include in your Kit emails, allowing subscribers to download your content securely.

The Techie’s Low-Tech Stack

To build and manage a digital presence efficiently, you can combine several specialised tools. Below is a logical sequence for setting up your blog, email, and ecommerce platforms.

Website Hosting

Choosing a host is your first step. Depending on your needs, there are two primary routes:

micro.blog: For a simple, streamlined start, you can host a blog for as little as $1 per month. They provide numerous free themes to customise your look immediately.
Mythic-Beasts.com: If you prefer a UK-based independent hosting company, Mythic Beasts is an excellent alternative. They offer superb service.

Educational Integration

If your project involves teaching or sharing structured information, use Tevello Courses and Community app. This is a Shopify app that allows you to manage coursework and interact with students easily. It’s what I use.

Communication and Marketing

To stay in touch with your audience, use Kit (formerly ConvertKit). This platform manages your email marketing and help you build a subscriber list to share updates and newsletters.

E-commerce and Products

If you intend to sell physical products or online courses, Shopify is the industry standard. It integrates with your brand to provide a secure checkout experience for your customers.

The Bottom Line

Substack is playing to their private investors, not you. That 10% commission? That’s just the start. The real cost is your independence.

You’re building your business on rented land. And one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, the landlord changes the rules.

Don’t let that be you.

Get out whilst you still can.

I learned the dark arts of digital marketing

Sun, 01 Mar 2026 10:41:00 +0100

Funnels.
Tripwires.
Countdown timers.

All designed to push people into buying before they could think.

And the harder I used them.

The worse it felt.

I sat in on private conversations with the pioneers of the industry.

Smart people.

But something bothered me.

How customers were talked about.

Not as people.

As conversion rates.

Most marketing doesn’t serve people.

It engineers pressure.

That was the moment I stopped.

No popups.
No fake urgency.
No psychological tricks.

Just honest work.

Offered quietly.

And something strange happened.

It worked better.

I call it Open Heart Marketing.

OHM.

It’s not a tactic.

It’s a posture.

Instead of trying to control people…

You meet them.

I don’t write “content.”

I make things I care about.

A story.
A reflection.
An idea.

I want people to feel like they’re walking through a gallery.

Not being herded through a shopping centre.

Seth Godin has written a blog every day for 8,000 days.

No funnels.

Still sells millions of books.

Because people are tired of being sold to.

But they’re hungry for honesty.

So here’s the question:

What would your marketing look like if you stopped trying to convince people…

and simply showed them who you are?

That’s Open Heart Marketing.