The Truth Vs The Hype! 💰 How Much Does YouTube Really Pay Me With 2.3K Subscribers?

If you’ve ever wondered whether you can actually make decent money on YouTube with just a few thousand subscribers, then this video is for you.

I’ve now reached 2.3K subscribers, and there’s plenty of hype online about how much money YouTube creators can make. But what does it actually look like in the real world?

Well, I’m going to show you the truth rather than the hype.

I’ll be sharing the earnings from some of my individual videos, including what certain videos have actually made, and then I’ll reveal my total YouTube earnings over the past 365 days.

No guesswork, no inflated figures, and no “YouTube made me £10,000 this month!” nonsense.

Just the actual numbers from my own channel.

So, with 2.3K subscribers, how much money does YouTube REALLY pay? Let’s find out.

When Does a YouTuber Need Help?

I've been thinking about something lately. At what point does a YouTuber actually need help?

Is it when they reach 10,000 subscribers?

50,000?

100,000?

A million?

Or is it nothing to do with subscriber numbers at all?

The more I think about it, the more I believe it probably isn't about how many people have subscribed to your channel.

It's about how much time, effort and pressure goes into keeping the channel going.

And I can certainly understand how that could creep up on you.

When you first start making videos, it's usually quite simple.

You have an idea.

You get the camera out.

You go somewhere, or do something you're interested in, and you film it.

Then you sit down and edit it, upload it, and that's it.

At least, that's how it feels when you're starting out.

But gradually, things change.

People start watching.

People start subscribing.

People start commenting.

And suddenly, there are people waiting for your next video.

That's when I think YouTube can start becoming a very different animal.

When people start expecting the next video

I actually think it's lovely when someone tells you they're looking forward to your next video.

There's something quite rewarding about knowing that somebody you've never met has enjoyed something you've created enough to want to see more of it.

That's one of the things I like about YouTube.

You're creating something from your own interests and experiences, and somehow it reaches people you've never met.

But I can also see how that could create pressure.

If you've always uploaded once a week, people start expecting a video every week.

If you normally upload twice a week, then two videos become the expectation.

And if you don't upload?

Someone might ask:

"Where's the next video?"

They probably don't mean anything by it.

But when you've already spent days filming and editing, you might find yourself thinking:

"I know. I'm trying!"

And that's when something enjoyable can start to feel like an obligation.

I've realised just how much work goes into a video

I think one of the things people sometimes don't realise is that the finished video is only a small part of the process.

Take one of my own outings.

I might decide to go somewhere and make a video.

That sounds simple enough.

But there can be planning beforehand.

Where am I going?

What am I going to film?

What cameras am I taking?

Do I need the DJI Pocket 3?

Do I take the drone?

What about batteries?

Then there's the journey itself.

The filming.

Getting the shots.

Trying to remember what I wanted to say.

Sometimes filming something two or three times because I didn't quite say it the way I wanted.

And then I come home.

And that's when another job begins.

I have to go through all that footage.

Find the good bits.

Put everything in the right order.

Edit it.

Add music where appropriate.

Sort out the audio.

Create a thumbnail.

Write the title and description.

Upload it.

And then, of course, people start commenting.

And I want to reply.

Because for me, that's part of the enjoyment.

I'm not just throwing a video onto the internet and walking away.

There are real people watching it.

And if someone has taken the time to leave me a comment, I like being able to respond.

But I can also see how, as a channel grows, that could become a job in itself.

Imagine having hundreds or thousands of comments

At the moment, replying to comments is something I enjoy.

But I've sometimes wondered what it would be like if I suddenly had hundreds of comments on every video.

Then thousands.

How would you keep up?

Would you sit there for hours every day answering them?

And if you didn't, would you feel guilty?

That's the difficult part.

Because once you've built that relationship with your audience, I think it would be very hard to suddenly say:

"Sorry, I don't have time to reply anymore."

But realistically, there must come a point where you simply can't.

There are only so many hours in a day.

And that's where I think a creator has to make a decision.

Do you carry on trying to do absolutely everything yourself?

Or do you accept that perhaps you need a little help?

Then there's the pressure to earn money

This is probably the part I find most interesting.

For someone like me, making videos is primarily about enjoying what I'm doing and sharing it with other people.

If the channel earns a bit of money along the way, that's a bonus.

But imagine if YouTube became your main income.

That's when everything changes.

Because now you aren't simply making videos because you fancy making one.

You've got bills to pay.

Perhaps you've got sponsorships to fulfil.

Perhaps companies are expecting videos.

Perhaps you've got employees.

Perhaps your mortgage is partly being paid from the income your channel generates.

Suddenly, taking a few weeks off isn't quite so easy.

You can't simply say:

"I'm not in the mood for making a video this week."

There are financial consequences.

And I can imagine that creates an enormous amount of pressure.

So when does a creator actually need help?

I don't think there's a magic subscriber number.

You could have 5,000 subscribers and be struggling to keep up.

You could have 500,000 and have a team doing most of the work behind the scenes.

I think the real question is:

Is the channel becoming too much for one person to manage?

Maybe you're spending more time editing than filming.

Maybe you're spending hours answering comments.

Maybe emails are taking over your day.

Maybe you're constantly worrying about the next video.

Maybe you're checking your analytics every few hours to see how the latest upload is performing.

Or perhaps you're simply not enjoying it anymore.

For me, that last one would be the biggest warning sign.

Because surely the whole point of creating content is that you actually enjoy creating it.

But who helps a YouTuber?

I've often wondered about this too.

When we watch some of the really big YouTube channels, we might see one person on screen.

But behind that person could be an entire team.

They might have an editor.

Someone creating thumbnails.

Someone managing social media.

Someone answering emails.

Someone dealing with sponsorships.

Someone handling the accounts.

And perhaps eventually somebody managing the whole operation.

The person we see on screen may still be doing what they love — creating the content — while other people take care of the things that have grown around it.

And actually, that makes perfect sense.

If you're brilliant at making videos but terrible at administration, why spend half your day doing administration?

If editing takes you ten hours but someone else can do it in three, perhaps paying that person is actually buying yourself back seven hours.

And time is something you can never get back.

You don't necessarily have to employ anybody

I think there's probably a misconception that getting help means suddenly having a full-time team.

It doesn't.

You could employ a freelance editor.

You could pay somebody to create your thumbnails.

You could have someone help with emails for a few hours a week.

You might not even need the help permanently.

Perhaps you simply need someone during particularly busy periods.

And then there are management agencies.

They can take care of some of the business side — dealing with brands, negotiating sponsorships and commercial opportunities, and generally helping a creator manage the business they've built.

But again, there's a cost.

And that means the creator has to ask:

"Is this worth it?"

If somebody takes a percentage of your income, are they saving you enough time and stress to make that worthwhile?

I suspect, for many successful creators, the answer eventually becomes yes.

I think saying "no" is probably one of the hardest things

There's something else I've thought about.

When people watch your videos, they naturally have ideas about what they want you to make.

"You should go here."

"Why don't you try this?"

"Can you make more videos like that one?"

And that's great.

It's part of having an audience.

But eventually, you have to remember that it's your channel.

You can't make everything everybody wants.

If you try, you'll probably end up making videos you don't even particularly want to make.

And what's the point in that?

I think I'd rather make a video about something I'm genuinely interested in and have 500 people enjoy it than make something I don't care about simply because I think it might get 5,000 views.

Maybe that's easy for me to say because I'm not relying on YouTube to pay my bills.

And that's an important distinction.

If YouTube is your income, the decisions become much harder.

Perhaps the biggest help is giving yourself permission to slow down

The more I think about this, the more I wonder whether sometimes the help a YouTuber needs isn't another person at all.

Maybe it's simply permission to slow down.

To say:

"I'm not making a video this week."

To take a break.

To spend time with family.

To go somewhere without taking a camera.

To do something purely for yourself.

And not worry about what the algorithm thinks.

Because I suspect that once you start looking at views, watch time, click-through rates and subscriber numbers, it's very easy to become obsessed with them.

One video gets 1,000 views.

The next gets 2,000.

Brilliant.

Then the next only gets 700.

And you start wondering what went wrong.

But sometimes nothing went wrong.

That's just YouTube.

Some videos find an audience.

Some don't.

And I think it's important not to let those numbers determine whether you think you've made a good video.

So, when would I say a YouTuber needs help?

I wouldn't say it's when they reach a particular subscriber number.

I'd say it's when the channel starts taking more from them than they're getting back from it.

When they're constantly under pressure.

When they're working late into the night.

When they're worrying about the next upload.

When answering comments becomes a chore.

When the editing never seems to end.

When the business side starts overwhelming the creative side.

And, most importantly, when they stop enjoying it.

Because that's the point at which I'd be asking myself:

"Why am I doing this?"

Getting help isn't admitting you've failed.

Quite the opposite.

It probably means you've created something that's grown beyond what one person can comfortably manage.

And perhaps that's actually a sign of success.

But I think there's a danger in becoming so focused on growing the channel that you forget why you started making videos in the first place.

For me, the enjoyment is the important bit.

Going out.

Seeing something interesting.

Learning something new.

Taking the cameras with me.

Coming home and putting the story together.

And then sharing it with people who might enjoy it too.

That's the bit I wouldn't want to lose.

Because ultimately, whether you have 500 subscribers, 50,000 or 5 million, I think the question is still the same:

Are you still enjoying making the videos?

If the answer is yes, then you're probably doing something right.

And if the answer is no, perhaps that's when it's time to get a little help — whatever that help might look like.

Are Rivers Alive?

I've spent quite a lot of time around rivers over the years.

Walking alongside them, paddling on them, filming them, and sometimes just sitting quietly beside them and watching the water go by.

And recently, I found myself wondering about something that sounds quite simple.

Are rivers alive?

Now, if you asked a scientist, the answer would probably be quite straightforward.

No. A river isn't a living organism. It doesn't breathe, it doesn't have a heartbeat, and it doesn't reproduce.

But I'm not sure that's the whole story.

Because when you've spent as much time around rivers as I have, it's difficult not to feel that there's something alive about them.

Take the River Darent, for example.

It's a river I've walked beside many times, and it's one of those places where, if you slow down and actually take notice, there's far more going on than you might initially realise.

You can stand beside the water and think you're simply looking at a river.

But look a little closer.

There's movement everywhere.

The water is flowing over stones and around bends. Plants are growing along the banks. Insects are moving above the surface. Birds are feeding in and around the water. Fish are moving beneath it, even if you can't see them.

And then there are all the things that we don't see at all.

Tiny organisms living in the water and sediment. Roots growing into the riverbank. Decomposing leaves becoming food for insects and other creatures.

It's an entire little world.

And the river is at the centre of it.

I've always enjoyed being outdoors, whether I'm walking, cycling or getting out on the water in a kayak.

And I think kayaking has probably changed the way I look at rivers.

When you're walking beside a river, you're looking at it from the bank.

When you're sitting in a kayak, you're actually part of it.

You're sitting just above the water, moving with the current, and suddenly you notice things you might otherwise miss.

The speed of the water.

The reflections.

The way the current changes around a fallen branch.

The little ripples that you wouldn't notice from the bank.

And sometimes, you can paddle along a stretch of water and barely see another person.

It's just you, the river and the countryside.

Those are the moments when I think rivers can feel almost like another living presence.

Of course, I know they're not alive in the biological sense.

But perhaps that's not really what I'm asking.

What I'm really asking is whether something has to be technically alive for us to have a relationship with it.

Because rivers have character.

Some are fast and energetic.

Some are slow and peaceful.

Some change dramatically after heavy rain.

Others can become little more than a trickle during a dry summer.

And they are constantly changing.

Visit the same river in spring, summer, autumn and winter and you'll see four very different places.

In spring, everything is coming to life around the banks.

Summer brings lush vegetation and insects above the water.

Autumn fills the river with fallen leaves.

And then winter comes, and suddenly you can see the structure of the landscape that was hidden beneath all that summer growth.

The river hasn't changed its identity.

But it has changed its appearance.

And that's another thing I find fascinating.

A river is never actually the same river twice.

The water you're looking at today won't be there tomorrow.

It will have travelled downstream, perhaps eventually reaching the sea.

And new water will take its place.

The river is constantly moving through the landscape.

And perhaps that's where the idea of a river being alive becomes interesting.

It has movement.

It has change.

It reacts to what happens around it.

Rainfall changes it.

Drought changes it.

The seasons change it.

Human activity changes it.

And, perhaps most importantly, it supports life.

That's something we sometimes forget.

When we look at a river, we tend to think of the water as the river.

But the river is much more than that.

It's the banks.

The trees.

The plants.

The insects.

The fish.

The birds.

The mammals.

The microscopic life.

Even the people who walk beside it, paddle on it or live near it.

All of those things are connected.

And rivers have shaped our history too.

So many towns and villages grew up around rivers because rivers provided water, food, transport and power.

Look at somewhere like Farningham.

The River Darent isn't just something that happens to pass through the village.

It's part of the reason the village is what it is.

The river helped shape the landscape, supported the mills and influenced where people lived and worked.

And when you walk through an old village like that, it's worth remembering that you're not simply looking at old buildings.

You're looking at a landscape shaped by water.

People have been walking alongside these rivers for generations.

They've crossed them.

Worked beside them.

Fished in them.

Built mills beside them.

And depended upon them.

And the river just keeps flowing.

Long after individual people have gone, the river remains.

It continues its journey through the landscape.

That, I think, is one of the things I find most fascinating about rivers.

They give us a sense of time.

We tend to think about our own lives in years and decades.

But rivers operate on a completely different timescale.

The river was here before us.

It will, hopefully, still be here after us.

And when I'm walking beside one, particularly somewhere quiet in the countryside, I sometimes find myself thinking about all the people who must have stood in exactly the same place hundreds of years ago.

They would have heard the same sound of flowing water.

Seen the same valley.

Perhaps watched birds on the river.

And then gone about their lives.

The river simply carried on.

So, are rivers alive?

Technically, no.

But perhaps I've come to realise that isn't really the question I want to ask.

Because when I'm standing beside a river, I don't really care whether it meets the scientific definition of life.

I care about what it makes me feel.

The sense of movement.

The sense of history.

The wildlife.

The changing seasons.

The quietness.

And sometimes, simply the feeling of being somewhere away from the noise of everyday life.

Perhaps that's why I keep coming back to rivers.

Whether I'm walking along the Darent, exploring somewhere new, or sitting in a kayak with the water gently carrying me along, there's something about rivers that makes you stop and think.

They remind us that everything is moving.

Everything changes.

And yet, somehow, the river remains.

So maybe the answer to the question "Are rivers alive?" depends on how you look at it.

If we're talking scientifically, then no.

But if we're talking about a constantly changing environment that supports countless forms of life, carries history through the landscape, and connects one place with another...

Then perhaps the answer is a little different.

Maybe rivers aren't alive.

But they certainly give life.

And after spending so much time around them, I think that's close enough for me.

Our Prisons Are Full. So What On Earth Are We Going to Do About It?

I know this isn't an outdoorsy article, but it is something that could ultimately affect our safety, so I thought it was worth talking about.

In light of the news that PC Harper’s killers will not be released early and that the government has amended the Sentencing Act 2026, this has led to calls for further changes to the new Act.

And I think this raises a much bigger question.

Why are our prisons nearly at maximum capacity in the first place?

Because whether we like it or not, we have reached a point where something has to change.

The prison population in England and Wales is now approaching 86,000, while there are fewer than 82,000 prison places considered safe and decent. And official projections suggest the prison population could pass 100,000 within the next few years.

So how did we get here? Well, there isn't one simple answer.

Over the years, sentences have generally become longer. More people are being sent to prison, and more prisoners are being recalled to custody when they breach the conditions of their release. At the same time, the prison population has continued to grow faster than the prison estate.

And then there is another problem. We quite rightly expect people who commit serious crimes to be punished. If somebody commits murder, rape, serious violence, or another grave offence, most people would expect a substantial prison sentence.

But not every person who enters prison presents the same level of danger to the public. That is where I think we need to have a sensible conversation.

Prison should be for those who really need to be there

One possible solution is to look very carefully at who we actually send to prison. There are offenders who are dangerous and need to be kept away from society. But there are also people who have committed less serious offences who might be better dealt with through community sentences, rehabilitation programmes, unpaid work, electronic monitoring, or other forms of punishment.

That doesn't mean letting people off.

A community sentence can still be demanding, restrictive, and punitive.

The question should be whether putting somebody behind bars is actually the most effective way of protecting the public and reducing the chances of them committing another offence.

What about short prison sentences?

Short prison sentences are another area worth looking at. If somebody is sentenced to a few months in prison, there may be very little time to do anything meaningful with them. They enter prison, go through the system, and before you know it, they are released again. If the objective is rehabilitation, that isn't necessarily very effective.

There is an argument for replacing some short custodial sentences with properly supervised community sentences, combined with rehabilitation, drug and alcohol treatment where appropriate, and strict monitoring.

The punishment would still exist, but the prison place could be used for someone who genuinely needs to be behind bars.

What about foreign prisoners?

Another option is dealing with foreign nationals who are serving prison sentences in Britain. Where the law allows it, some foreign offenders could be repatriated to serve their sentences in their country of origin. The government is already looking at this as one way of creating additional prison capacity. 

But again, this isn't going to solve the entire problem. It can create some additional space, but it doesn't deal with the underlying reason why the prison population keeps increasing.

Build more prisons

Of course, the obvious answer is to build more prisons. And there is nothing wrong with doing that. If we need more prison places, then we should build them. The government has announced additional investment and plans to increase capacity, including bringing forward thousands of extra places. But building prisons takes time and costs an enormous amount of money.

And there is another danger. If we simply keep building more prisons without tackling why the prison population is increasing, we could find ourselves having the same conversation again in ten or twenty years. More prisons alone aren't the answer.

What about prisoners serving indefinite sentences?

There is also the complicated issue of prisoners serving Imprisonment for Public Protection sentences, or IPP sentences. These sentences were abolished for new cases years ago, but some people sentenced under the old system remain caught up in it. The government has said it wants to address the remaining IPP population, although releasing people who may still pose a risk has to be handled very carefully. This is an area where rehabilitation, risk assessment, and proper supervision are absolutely crucial.

And then we come back to early release

This is where the argument becomes particularly difficult.

Early release schemes are not new.

They have been used because the prison system simply hasn't had enough space. But when people hear that somebody convicted of a serious crime could be released earlier than the sentence they expected, understandably, there is public anger. The case of PC Andrew Harper has brought that issue into sharp focus. The government's latest changes mean that his killers, who were convicted of manslaughter, will not benefit from the early release arrangements. The changes also exclude other serious categories of offenders. And I can understand why. If somebody has committed a particularly serious offence, the public needs to have confidence that the punishment handed down by the courts actually means something.

But there is a problem. Every time we remove another category of prisoner from early release, we put further pressure on an already overcrowded prison system. That means the government has to find the space somewhere else. And that is why I don't think this debate can simply be about whether prisoners should be released early. It has to be about the whole prison system.

So what is the answer?

Personally, I think we need a combination of measures.

Keep dangerous offenders in prison for as long as the courts and risk assessments determine is necessary.

Build additional prison capacity.

Speed up the transfer of eligible foreign prisoners to their countries of origin.

Deal properly with the remaining IPP cases.

Reduce the unnecessary use of very short prison sentences where a tough community sentence would be more effective.

Improve rehabilitation inside prisons so that people leaving prison are less likely to return.

And perhaps most importantly, make sure probation actually has the resources to supervise people when they are released.

Because there is little point in putting somebody through a rehabilitation programme in prison and then releasing them into the community with inadequate support and supervision.

We need to stop treating this as an either-or argument

I don't think we have to choose between being tough on crime and trying to reduce prison overcrowding.

We can do both.

People who are dangerous should be kept away from the public.

Victims should come first.

Serious crimes should receive serious punishments.

But prison should not automatically be the answer to every offence.

We need a system that distinguishes between the person who genuinely needs to be locked away from society and the person who can be punished, rehabilitated, and monitored safely in the community. Because if we don't deal with the underlying problem, we will simply continue going round in circles.

More prisoners.

More overcrowding.

More pressure for early release.

More public anger.

Then, another emergency measure to create space.

And eventually, we'll be having exactly the same conversation all over again.

The real challenge for government is therefore not simply finding more prison cells.

It's deciding what prison is actually for, who really needs to be there, and how we make sure that when somebody does leave prison, they are less likely to come back. Because ultimately, the success of a prison system shouldn't simply be measured by how many people we manage to lock up. It should be measured by how effectively we protect the public, punish those who deserve punishment, rehabilitate those who can be rehabilitated, and prevent people from becoming victims of crime in the first place.