Here's Exactly What Belongs Behind Your Paywall (And You Already Have It)
How I turned a reader's question into a paid tool
The most useful thing I ever wrote about going paid on Substack nearly didn’t get written.
A reader asked how I'd set mine up. How I decided what went above the paywall, what sat behind it. How I moved someone from free to paid without it feeling like a negotiation. I typed a short reply, looked at it, realised I’d said nothing useful, and started again.
The second version was six hundred words. I explained the structure, the reasoning behind where the paywall sat. What I was trying to make the reader feel at each stage. I sent it and forgot about it.
She replied the next day. Said it was one of the most useful things she’d read about running a paid newsletter. Asked if I’d written it up anywhere. I hadn’t. It hadn’t occurred to me.
It didn’t feel like something worth writing up.
What you know has gone underground
You’re not short of knowledge. You’re short of distance from it.
The problem is that you’ve lived with it so long it no longer feels like expertise. It feels normal. You can’t see a price tag on something that feels like just how your brain works.
What you know is like furniture you stopped seeing years ago. It’s still there. Someone walking into the room for the first time would notice every piece. You’ve stopped registering it exists.
You've come so far you've forgotten what it was like not to know this. So you look at what you know and think: everyone thinks this way. This is obvious. Who would pay for this?
The person who hasn’t lived your last three years.
The question I kept dismissing
I'd spent months figuring out what made a hook actually work.
Testing them, building a rough map of what worked and why. To me it was just how I thought about opening lines. I’d stopped seeing it as a skill. It had become invisible through familiarity.
Then the questions from readers started stacking up. How do you come up with hooks that don't all sound the same? Why does nobody seem to notice my Notes? How do you get more readers?
Same question, different words, week after week. From writers who were clearly capable, clearly trying, clearly stuck on something I’d absorbed without realising I’d done it.
There was a point when I noticed every time someone asked how to grab attention. Then I stopped noticing. That’s the whole problem in two sentences. The thing you track is the thing you’re still learning. The thing you’ve stopped tracking is the thing you now know well enough to teach.
So I built the Hook Lab.
It’s an AI tool that takes your first line and rewrites it to make someone stop. Paste your opening line in, get back something sharper. Thirty seconds on the thing most writers spend thirty minutes staring at.
I built it because the question kept coming, which meant the answer wasn’t as obvious as it felt to me. That became a resource I give to paid newsletter subscribers.
It turned out to be exactly what someone else needed, packaged up and handed over.
The repeated question is the product
The question you keep getting asked isn't obvious to anyone but you.
The longer you leave it, the harder it gets to see it as something worth packaging. Familiarity does that. What started as a skill quietly becomes just how you think. Each month it sits unpackaged, it feels less like a product and more like common sense. By the time you get around to it, you've talked yourself out of it without realising.
The repeated question is the tool outline. The thing you explain in DMs is the framework. The approach you’ve been giving away for free in replies for two years, telling yourself it doesn’t count as a product because it doesn’t feel like one.
That’s exactly what belongs behind your paywall.
Name it. Package it. Put it there.
Someone is reading your free posts right now, 12 months behind where you are. What feels like ordinary thinking to you looks, from where they’re standing, like the shortcut they’ve been searching for.
They’re not wondering if you exist. They’re wondering if you teach this stuff anywhere. You do. And so do I. Everything I've built for my paid Substack started as a question I nearly ignored.
Yours is probably sitting in your inbox right now.
You don’t need to go viral to earn from your writing. Every week I write about what you need instead. Subscribe and get the next one.




What you’re saying is right on the money; when I have an idea in my head, it’s larger than life, it’s magnificent, it’s powerful. Once I put it down on paper, it loses its grandeur through familiarity.
A big "Yes!" to everything in this piece. And I'd like to add to the list. Yes, familiarity. Not seeing the furniture. Also, unconscious competence.