The Patreon Problem

How do sites like Patreon and Substack work? Are they right for me as an independent creator?

I spent yesterday on a VIP Day with a client who was brilliant, deeply educated and insightful — exactly the type of person who could walk into a classroom and deeply impact the lives of anyone in the room.

There was only one problem: When she decided to branch off and create a Thing online to offer her expertise and share her gifts with the world...

...she did it on Patreon.

Tell me if I'm right here: You like the idea of getting paid to write. Or create. Or facilitate learning. Or host a radio show.

In your research (I know you research), you've noticed that platforms like Substack and Patreon present themselves as a vehicle to make that creative dream happen.

And yes, theoretically, they could be.

But for solo creative thinkers, or even small teams, in my consulting work I've noticed that when idea-stage creative entrepreneurs head to these platforms ambitiously, something else happens. 

Out of a desire to be accessible, and influenced by perhaps too many conversations with friends and asking "What would you pay for X?" the creator signs up for one of these monthly subscription platforms and sets up a few tiers — mostly under $100.

In exchange, the creator commits to a certain number of monthly deliverables.

And then they wait.

If this creator has been at it a while, it's possible they already have a substantially engaged following on another platform that eagerly subscribes. Early adopters.

But at $10, $15, even $50/month, even with early adopters their total monthly revenue might only be $200- $1,000/mo. Before taxes.

That may seem like nothing to scoff at, and it isn't. But let's look at what's happened to the creator.

They've now got the equivalent of a part-part-time job, plus self employment taxes. And it's a job that is also most likely creatively vulnerable, rigorous, emotionally taxing and, well, supposed to be fulfilling.

I don't know about you, but it's hard for me to notice the feeling of fulfillment when I don't know how I'm going to pay rent.

When we create things on Patreon or Substack or any other primarily monthly subscription-focused platform, we as creators don't get to have an end in sight.

There are no boundaries around a monthly deliverable. Just another thing due, forever.

Now, to be clear, I know these sites can be incredibly lucrative for content creators and artists.

And I will say: If you're ready to commit full-time — not just to the creation, but to the business as well — and you have some financial runway to get you to a point where you have time to test and develop a marketing system that will consistently pull new subscribers in, sure, start with subscriptions.

If you have a significantly engaged platform and you know you want recurring monthly revenue and you know it will be easy for you to create every month because creating is already your full time job, sure, make the Patreon or the OnlyFans.

But for the average person, who is trying this "Very Online" thing for the first or second time, who has no idea what the frick frackle they're doing and just wants to offer something creatively or intellectually stimulating and experiment and get paid for it?

I think you should make an online course.

Or some derivative of "an online course" that the world has never heard of before. That's fine too.

The point is: Make something boundaried, dated, with a clear point A and Point B.

Make a thing with a destination, for you and your customers.

Here's why: Courses, unlike recurring monthly memberships, inherently factor in time for rest.

There is a reason the Earth has seasons, and SNL has finales, and schools have summer breaks.

When you create a piece of work like an online course, you will inevitably go through four distinct phases of development: Mapping, Execution, Transformation and Adaptation. I call this META.

When you create a membership site or a monthly subscription, you essentially vow to the customer (which, I know, feels icky - but they are the customer) that you will deliver new things to the same person every month.

This is a great business model — there's security for the business, and an inherent CLV (Customer Lifetime Value).

But for the artist, the writer, the teacher, the creative — this creates an inevitable creative burden.

It traps you in a constant state of META, instead of allowing you to move intentionally through each individual phase of development.

When do you sit back and assess the feedback when there's always another episode to prepare? Can you take a 2-month break when people are paying monthly? Does the average solo creator, branching out for the first time, have access to the team support and communications experience necessary to navigate essentially becoming an independent publication overnight?

To be honest, I don't think they do.

I know I didn't.

Here at Pretty Decent, I teach three-ish courses a year: 3 distinct curriculums with 3 distinct goals, each designed to help my Ideal Customer (the reader of the essay) learn and practice the ropes of creating and selling ideas online. 

I say three-ish because sometimes I add stuff in for fun, like the course design series I'm teaching starting May 4.

When I started this business last summer, it was after years of mapping, ideation and practicing developing digital sales campaigns for other peoples' courses.

Based on what I hypothesized, I offered Founding Members a monthly subscription rate: $53/mo.

I knew this was about half of what I'd eventually charge — it was a beta rate, one our Founding Members could lock in at forever.

I also quickly discovered that $53/mo as a sole creator in the early days of entrepreneurship does not make for a sustainable business.

And so I pivoted. 

I learned and reflected and created new things. It was not easy, and if I could go back I would tell myself this:

I know it's scary to think about charging hundreds of dollars at a time. I know you want to help the world. But you cannot help anyone when you aren't supporting yourself. You cannot pour from an empty cup.

There is a model that exists that will allow you to change what your work is worth, especially in the context of other educational offers.

This model will help sustain your practice while scheduling in breaks, vacations, reflection time, heavy sales periods and even a brainstorming sesh. Or twelve.

It's called an online course, and making one won't turn you into one of those YouTube entrepreneur guys who aggressively follows you around the Internet, but it will give you a platform through which to share, develop and teach your best ideas.

I have a lot of thoughts on this topic, clearly, and I think i're captured most of them in this $33 guide.

I can also work with you 1:1 in a VIP Day and help you organize your ideas, develop a curriculum and launch strategy — I have 3 of these VIP Days left in April, and you get a free year of community and teaching at Pretty Decent when you book one.

Don't be afraid to reply with questions or disagreements! It helps me think.

On your side,

<3 Lex