Born in Wiltshire in 1991, Joe Sugg is a former roof thatcher turned social media star, actor and author. Inspired by his vlogging sister Zoe, otherwise known as Zoella, he won a place in the Brit Crew – a cohort of UK content creators who dominated YouTube in the 2010s – thanks to his peppy personality and pranks on his long-suffering roommate. With more than 26 million followers across his social media platforms, he has since become a finalist on Strictly Come Dancing, launched emerging talent agency Margravine Management, and performed in London’s West End and the BBC drama Syndicate. His book Grow, about the importance of connecting to nature in a digital world, is released on 15 September.
This is me on set for the BBC period drama Cranford. My aunty or mum must have taken the photo. We’d heard that the film crew was coming to our village, Lacock, and wanted extras for the show, so my whole family went back to the 1800s for the day. I was only in one scene, standing in the background looking shocked as a man with a broken arm walked in to see a doctor, but it was very exciting. Especially as Harry Potter was also filmed in our village a few years before – I’d tried to get picked as an extra for that, too, but didn’t make the cut.
Though I was absolutely devastated that I didn’t get to be in one of the biggest movies of all time, I soon realised I was rejected because I looked so young and probably didn’t fit the age bracket for the scene. I was the shortest in my year at school, so much so that under the photo in my yearbook I wrote: “Good things come in small packages.” Throughout secondary school I got teased a bit because of my height, and all the girls thought I was cute – although not in an “I want to be your girlfriend” type of way. Just: “Ahh bless!” Thankfully I was also one of the quickest at running, and often being sporty means you’re safe and respected at school.
I was always a well-behaved boy. I have a vivid memory of being in primary school and smashing a pot with a basketball by accident. The teacher sat our class down and said: “Despite my saying that nobody was allowed to play in the corridor near the pot, some of you ignored me. I’m very surprised at the boy who did this.” While it wasn’t a massive telling-off, it was enough for me to think: “I’m never misbehaving again.” Naturally, I had a slight rebellious streak at 15 or 16 – around the time I had Tomb Raider and Avril Lavigne posters on my wall. I’d play knock-knock-run on people’s front doors, or hit pears with golf clubs from the garden into the road, not knowing if they would hit a passing car or not. It’s such a country version of mischief compared with what people probably get up to in a city, but whacking pears was my thing.
Before leaving sixth form, we had to write down what we wanted to be when we left school: I chose “working in the media” or “thatching roofs”. I was pretty certain I was going into the latter, and I did, but I thought it might be worth thinking of something else just in case I fell off a roof one day and decided thatching wasn’t for me.
I joined YouTube in 2011, using the name ThatcherJoe, even though my content wasn’t going to be all about my job. It was unknown territory and I launched straight into it without understanding how big it might become. Back then there was no tried-and-tested trajectory for YouTubers – it wasn’t like joining the music industry or becoming an actor, where you can plan out your path. The only things I was good at were being myself and editing. I thought I’d do it for a year and, if it fizzled out, then I’d go back to thatching. Two years later I had six million subscribers.
I’ll never forget my first paycheck from YouTube views – I spent it on a round of drinks in the pub for my friends. It was only £30, but at the time it was impressive that I’d found a new source of income. When things really started taking off, it was hard not to get fixated on numbers – the subscribers and views per video. I’d create a competition in my head with other YouTubers who were doing well, wondering how many subscribers they were getting – and if they missed a week of uploading content I saw it as my chance to try to get ahead. That self-made competition helped me keep a momentum and got me working as hard as possible.
Nothing could prepare me for the fame that followed. Seeing the numbers from videos translated to real-life attention – people who would normally leave comments under a video stood in front of me in real life saying they love what I do and how it benefited them – was incredible. The number of people who told me that my silly videos helped them with their mental health was overwhelming. I guess my tomfoolery is a bit of a distraction and a form of escapism. I never wanted to be serious or say anything that would divide people. My purpose was always to entertain.
With that success came more pressure, and soon I felt as if I needed to keep up that pace and growth, and to make every video better than the one before. I didn’t know it then, but I was setting myself up for burnout. Around 2016, trying to up my game stressed me out so much that I started feeling nervous about filming videos. I kept thinking: “What if it’s not as good as the last one? What if my audience drops off? What if I’m not relevant any more?” It was like stage fright, and I started to second-guess everything. I stopped liking the work; I stopped throwing myself into opportunities because of the overthinking and stress. Thankfully my sister paved the way for me not only creatively but emotionally, too. She could help me with the problems I faced and related to what I was going through with my anxiety. I was very lucky I could reach out to her.
These days, I’m starting to enjoy a slower pace and taking a back seat to consider my options for the long term. Social media is a much more saturated place than it used to be, and being an influencer or an online personality is such a sought-after career. I can see why: you get to be yourself, or the character you’ve always wanted to be, and make a living from it. But the turnover now is so fast – young people are blowing up overnight, and as quickly as they are getting fame, they’re forgotten about. If I was a 16-year-old starting all over again, I’m not sure how I would deal with those kinds of extremities.
It’s something I think about when it comes to my future children. If they were to choose a similar career path, I’d want to keep an eye on what’s going on online, make sure they’re OK. At the same time, I’m open-minded and would like to stay curious and unafraid of new things, just like that little boy in the picture. He wasn’t scared to take a risk, be an extra and do something he’d never done before. I hope to have that kind of inquisitiveness for ever.
