I Went Viral on Threads With Four Words

I went to grow my Substack. What I got back was something more.

One photo. Four words.

I do at 52.

15,700 likes. 531 comments. In two days.

I started Thursday with zero followers. By Sunday I had 582, and my profile had been viewed nearly a quarter of a million times.

For someone who doesn’t have a real social media presence, this felt insane.

Let me back up.

I’m trying to grow my Substack. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

Some people arrive with an audience already built. A following somewhere else that comes with them. I’m not one of them. No real Instagram presence. I’m not an influencer. I’m not, honestly, much of a social media person at all.

So I’ve been paying attention to how other people do it. I’ve read all the articles. You know what I mean.

There’s a writer I started following a few months ago. She’s a wonderful writer, and her growth has been remarkable. Honestly, none of it surprises me. In one piece she mentioned a note she’d posted on Threads that had taken off. I got curious… enough to actually go look. I wanted to understand what it was about.

What I found surprised me. It isn’t Instagram. It isn’t quite Substack either. It felt like a younger brother… a looser, more provocative version with less guardrails. Less performance. More chat. Like stepping into a pub where everyone’s had a couple drinks and words are flowing freely.

And I’ll be honest. There’s a part of me, at 52, that still feels unworthy of taking up the space. Sharing a platform with gifted writers. That part of me felt somewhat at ease with Threads.

So on Thursday, on the way to Washington, I jumped in anyway. Zero following. My first note: I just arrived on the scene. Any tips for the new kid on the block?

Twenty people answered.

Just be yourself. Comment when you want. Think of it like a big chat group.

Lift others up.

Be as feral as you like.

Block family and friends from real life if you want to stay feral.

Don’t post dick pics.

I laughed out loud at that last one. It’s 2026 and we still have to say it to each other.

But that was the thing. The whole welcome was like that. Honest. Disarming. Nobody selling anything. Nobody curating. Welcoming in a way that didn’t feel performative at all.

So I tried. I posted a few things. Shared a few thoughts. Nothing was tracking.

Then Saturday night, on our way to dinner in DC, it occurred to me I hadn’t posted again all day.

So I put up that photo. Those four words.

I’d been studying how to grow, doing the small deliberate things. And the thing that traveled was the one I almost forgot to post.

A second thought. Something I was sure wouldn’t make a difference.

Not instead of the effort. On top of it.

The deliberate work got me in the room. The thing I didn’t think about is what people could feel.

I was trying to grow. I wasn’t trying to win.

When I lost my late husband unexpectedly, when life flipped upside down and everything I knew went with it, rebuilding wasn’t about winning. How could it be? It was about moving forward. The only direction I could go. I hear people say, I’m in my no fucks era. I think about it differently. It’s discernment without abandonment.

I still care. In fact I care deeply. I just care differently now.

Maybe that’s why I could post it without thinking.

Yes, the numbers stopped me. But what really got my attention was the messages.

Hundreds of them. Some version of the same thing, over and over.

Thank you for giving me hope.

Hope for love. Hope for a second chapter. Hope that life can still surprise us. Hope that their story isn’t over.

I’ve read nearly all of them. I’m still answering each one.

I didn’t post it to inspire anyone. I posted it because I’m in love, and I wanted to share the moment.

For the first time in my life, I’ve been stepping outside my comfort zone. In front of the camera. And this strange new place felt, of all things, safe enough to do it.

What surprised me most was how many people were reaching for hope.

People are looking for it everywhere. In small places. In big ones. I drove around town today, an ordinary Monday, and caught the stink eye at half the stop signs. People are tired. People are bracing.

And then four words and a photo gave a few thousand strangers something to hold onto.

Faith, Hope, and Love were the cornerstone of our wedding. They’re the cornerstone of our marriage. They sit underneath everything.

But hope might be the one the world is hungriest for right now.

If four words and an image can offer it, then so can the words and the talents the rest of us are walking around with.

And here’s the part I keep sitting with.

The response gave me hope.

Readers don’t just want to follow influencers.

My writing isn’t all for nothing.

And that part of me that felt unworthy of taking up the space?

I’m realizing I’m worthy of it.

Always Editing,
Leslie

P.S. And yes — to answer the question that sent me to Threads in the first place: my subscriber base grew too. So if you’ve wondered whether it’s worth finding your way over there, it is. Find me when you do. I’ll follow you back.

P.P.S The writer. The one who unknowingly became my expander. She deserves a shout out too. Thank you Sasha Brown-Worsham. Your truth is the feral cat in the room, and the one that keeps me coming back to your words.

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