PrologueI made a mistake last week and I’m still dealing with the aftermath.
Nora, my 6th grader, rocked her first 9 weeks at her new school and made all As.
This meant she received an invitation to join an honor society.
The invitation came with a letter encouraging students to review the expectations of members on the school website and have a parent pay a fee online.
While this invitation was very exciting, it was shared with me while I was in the middle of work (she walks home from the bus stop and, on occasion, I’m in a Zoom meeting). Hello, 2021.
When I reviewed the page and saw a November due date, I sighed in relief that I didn’t HAVE to focus on it right that moment but could set it aside for a few weeks (it must have been mid-October).
And then… I forgot about it.
Until November 3.
At which point I did a 6 a.m. scramble, found the paper, and realized we’d missed the deadline.
OH NO
We’d reviewed the website, learned the honor society required community service, and had decided this would be an amazing opportunity for my little do-gooder who’d completed a 20+ hour-project for her Girl Scout Bronze award last year. It would also be a wonderful way for her to meet friends.
But I’d let the chaos that was attending 2 carnivals, 2 gymnastics classes, a birthday party, and trick-or-treating the week leading up to the deadline distract me from paying the fee.
So I sent an apologetic email to the sponsor and Nora said she’d ask one of her teachers.
We got mixed messages.
The response I got was a firm no, 24 hours later.
Nora was told she’d still be allowed in, but would miss initiation.
I responded to the email immediately to ask if there was truly no possible way for her to join, waited 4 days for a response, then tried again.
And again it was a solid no, with a fair explanation that even if I’d forgotten that the students had been reminded daily.
Nora says she remembers one reminder, but that her teacher is checking it to see if it’s really a no-go.
I’ve had ALL THE EMOTIONS about this.
I get that it’s an attempt to be fair.
And we’ll live with the consequence if there’s really no chance.
I’ve debated hand delivering a complaint to the principal’s office, but I’m not so much interested in making noise (and causing drama) as I am in undoing the mistake that now robs my child of an opportunity.
She’s less upset than I am.
And if it needs to be a lesson learned, she and I will have both learnt it:
The moment she gets an invite at the beginning of the next school year, I will be paying the $35 fee. No setting it aside.
But I’ve also told her something she’s not learning from this experience that is true in the real world: you can occasionally make a minor mistake like missing a deadline, recover with a sincere apology, continue to do good work, and still salvage the project.
Enough with my middle school moaning—what’s the newsletter lesson hiding in here?
As a creator, you’re going to make mistakes.
Don’t shy away from sharing your failures if they can serve others.
The intimacy of a newsletter—which IS A LETTER, right?—allows for moments of vulnerability.
What are you doing to help your readers see you as a flawed human being?
Check out this week’s Opt In Challenge (near the end of this issue) for more on failing in public… and enjoy all the good bits between here and there for your weekly dose of newsletter news and tips.
On Sunday we drove almost 2 hours each way to basically exist somewhere else for 2 or 3 hours.
And I don’t regret it.
In fact, I look forward to more of it.
Let me explain:
We bought a fixer upper fishing camp in Louisiana.
I even launched a newsletter about it (yes, using Curated).
The plan is to fix it up, enjoy it a bit, rent it, then eventually sell it.
But, one month in, we still haven’t stayed the night.
The first time we tried the power hadn’t officially been turned on (fun surprise), so we made it a day trip and pushed some of the furniture left by the previous owners around until we had a new layout.
I pretended to be the star of an HGTV show.
That’s been a little dream of mine ever since I visited the set of Trading Spaces when Laurie Smith was on it. She gave a great interview and I learned “toile” is not spelled “twall”… after the article was published.
We’ve been oversheduled the past few weekends and haven’t had an opportunity to stay there since. One simply does not ask children to trade in trick-or-treating in their new neighborhood for an overnight at Camp Lagniappe—yes, I named it.
Our neighborhood held trick-or-treating on Saturday, so that left Sunday open for a day trip to check in on things, turn the heat on, and prepare for my next HGTV session. Closet that should be a master bathroom, I’m coming for YOU.
I packed a few board games to keep there and we picked up some discounted pumpkins to carve. It was the one Halloween tradition we hadn’t managed to wedge into the previous week.
An almost 2-hour drive later, the girls were carving pumpkins on the back deck while Sal and I measured things and removed some large hanging racks in the kitchen. Just call us Chip and Joanna.
I also played my 9-year-old in a fierce game of Scrabble Junior and she beat me fair and square.
There’s no cable or wifi, so I intentionally planned to have some boredom relief options. Pumpkins and Scrabble Junior were part of that.
The cell reception is pretty lousy, too.
And, here’s the thing: after spending a few hours cut off from good connectivity, I’m not sure if we’re going to “improve” any of that.
What if this is a place we can go and literally cannot get sucked into the Internet?
It was unsettlingly peaceful.
The quiet.
The creativity that started sparking.
The fact that I held onto all the good letters until the end of our game and then couldn’t play any without giving away a wordscore to my delighted opponent.
I’m thinking that we—and anyone we rent to—could use the digital detox.
The newsletter lesson in this?
Can your newsletter create a space readers think of as an escape?
A reason to slow down?
Can you make it slightly unsettling in a good way?
A chance to pause and choose to ignore all the other noise?
Challenge: Create a newsletter your readers think of as a good habit. It should feel like a getaway they want to repeat.
Now, let’s learn from some people who create these types of experiences.
Is less more?
Recently, Josh Spector posted on social media (I think it was in his Newsletter Creators Facebook Group but I can’t seem to track it down) that he thinks we might all be making our newsletters too complicated.
His theory, which you can learn more about by watching our interview, stems from launching a short, daily version of his newsletter For the Interested and getting more engagement with the to-the-point, single-idea content he sends in it than his weekend digest version.
So he tested that theory in his longer newsletter and shortened that commentary, too, and my suspicion is he’s onto something.
Before you cringe, I want you to think about why considering “going short” may cause a bit of anxiety (mainly because I’m in the middle of this roller coaster of emotions myself and want to be transparent): IT’S BECAUSE WE ARE VERY EMOTIONALLY TIED TO ANYTHING WE CREATE.
No amount of “it’s just business” makes it feel better when an editor tells you to turn 5 paragraphs into one.
The phrase “It’s good, but I just don’t have time to read it,” burns.
So we tell ourselves we’re really writing for the people who read every word.
And then we make it easy to skim because we know some people might be skimming.
But, think about your own email reading habits.
How often do you slow down and read every word?
I have a few writers I bestow that honor to.
The rest I definitely skim.
So, this week, horror of horrors, I’ve decided to run my own test and minimize my commentary (but to keep my Prologue longish, because I’m still precious about it, ok?).
And I’d really love to know what you think.
If you make it to the end (please make it to the end), click yes or no to let me know if I should continue with this format or return to longer commentary.
Now, let’s dive into (or skim the surface of, actually) some relevant newsletter news and advice.
My oldest daughter (11) is going to be one of those wacky inflatables with waving arms businesses use to get attention from passing traffic for Halloween.
The costume arrived last night and we tested it.
She’s thrilled, albeit not sure she’ll be able to walk very well.
And I’m even more thrilled than she is.
Why?
Because she had a firm idea of what she wanted, we found one, ordered it, and now there’s no looming anxiety of figuring out what she will be.
Decision made.
Purchase complete.
Tiny screwdriver found to add the 4 AA batteries and we’re pretty much set for Halloween in the new neighborhood.
If you’re thinking, “So what?” I can explain.
This child is notorious for making decisions about clothes and costumes almost unbearable.
I wince at the thought of taking her shopping.
She’s slow.
She’s picky.
She’s too… emotional about her decisions.
And I get it.
Try to be patient.
Bring something to read while she tortures herself trying on and price comparing.
So her Halloween costume confidence this year almost rattled me.
It’s a full week and a half until we trick or treat and she’s past decision mode.
The mental weight of not being ready—which we felt very strongly last year when she decided at the last minute to be Luna Lovegood, but no costumes were left that would arrive in time so we had to make our own by buying separate, similar items, including DIYing the glasses as a craft project—isn’t there this year.
Will it be her favorite costume ever?
Maybe not.
Will it last the night without ripping?
Possibly.
Will she bring home a substantial candy loot?
Highly likely.
But why should a newsletter creator care about this story?
The lesson, as I see it, is that sometimes you have an idea and you just need to launch.
Maybe that’s the newsletter you’ve been mulling over.
Maybe that’s a new section of your newsletter.
Maybe that’s a brand new revenue stream you want to go after.
I’ve worked with several people in pre-launch mode recently whose ideas for what they want their newsletter to be change daily.
My advice: pick an idea and soft launch it to your existing audience.
If you don’t try something, you’re not really going to know what you’d change or do differently.
Your audience will tell you what they think in responses, clicks, and staying subscribed.
So go order a silly inflatable costume and try walking around in it, metaphorically—or literally, if you’d like. Wave your arms around and see what kind of attention you get.
This issue brings you stories from creators who are sharing their journeys, a few ideas to use in your marketing to achieve growth, and an explanation of why you might want to start using creator coins.
Enjoy.
My husband cannot stand when strangers strike up conversation.
Recently, on a flight, I caught him smirking as two strangers met and began an endless exchange.
I’m somewhat neutral about the endeavor.
Mainly because I recall occasionally meeting really interesting people that way. But (gasp!) those memories all predate social media and the ability for someone to look you up and ask you to be more than temporary friends.
So he’s obviously influenced me to save the “here’s who I am and what I do” for more structured scenarios, like attending Content Marketing World a few weeks back and intentionally interacting with people in my industry.
It was unexpectedly exciting, especially since COVID began, to have these sorts of in-person conversations.
And, of course, I’m going to tie this into newslettering. Ready?
One particular conversation was with a man who’d actually lived in the SAME EXACT Manhattan apartment building I’d lived in for 10 months during graduate school 17 years ago.
It took some ramp up conversation to get to this fact. Maybe 10 minutes?
And when we discovered it I experienced a flood of emotions and memories of that period of my life:
Suddenly there was more than “here’s who I am and what I do” going on.
There was a deeper connection.
He’d lived in the building years after I did, but it held significance to both of us for different reasons.
I write (and talk) a lot about the value of being human in your newsletter.
Of being a little vulnerable, even.
What I want us to think about is what we can include that draws our readers in, makes them feel closer to us, and, just maybe, opens the floodgates of memories and emotions for them.
I get that injecting personal stories into a newsletter isn’t for everyone.
But it’s powerful for those who are comfortable doing so.
For everyone else, you’re welcome to smirk with my husband.
This week’s issue highlights creators who have some unique insights on how they connect, create, and stay consistent. Plus, it prompts you to ask if you indulge in pluralistic ignorance. Nod your head if you get it.
Are you embracing the exquisite pain of newsletter unsubscribes?
Dennis Shiao thinks you should.
And I agree.
We co-presented last week at Content Marketing World, and his point is sticking with me:
Don’t let yourself get numb to unsubscribes.
Dennis takes it very seriously.
He wants an email notification for each unsubscribe.
So he can process them individually.
Mourn their loss.
Experience the hurt.
And consider the why.
Similarly, I keep up with mine in a dashboard and make a point to review the reasons given after each issue.
Depending on your list size, this could require a significant time commitment.
But the point is this:
There is value in taking unsubscribes a little personally.
In considering each goodbye and the reason behind it.
Your newsletter is often a significant chunk of your relationship with your audience.
When someone opts out, acknowledging that individually and considering why will shape your future content in a more meaningful way than thinking of unsubscribes as a business metric.
It stings less when you turn people into numbers.
But if you pay attention to the individual names and reasons, you commit more fully to serving those who’ve stuck around.
Dennis challenged both independent creators and large brands to adopt this approach:
Intentionally humanize the relationship between sender and recipient.
Let it fuel our desire to earn trust in every issue we deliver.
Yes, sometimes an unsubscribe indicates the reader is not a good fit for you (or your brand). But, as tough as it is to accept, sometimes it’s good to wallow in the frustration of a farewell so we can improve going forward.
Subscribe to Dennis’s newsletter, the always insightful Content Corner, here.
This week’s issue includes the inspirational stories of some successful newsletter creators, advice for re-engaging subscribers, and ideas for improving your newsletter process (whether that’s automating tweet curation or building a community with purpose).
Let me know what you think.
Do you know how onions are harvested?
It’s a smelly process.
Involving one tractor that unearths them and lines them up in mounds on the field.
And another that sucks them up and spins them in a barrel that sifts out the dirt.
AND another tractor pulling a big open trailer, carefully staying nearly side-by-side to the one that sucks them up. Sifted onions are sort of shot off the one and into the other, piling into the massive trailer.
Each of these processes makes lots of noise.
And leaves heaps of perfectly good onions on the field to rot.
All very technical, I know.
And maybe not something you care to know?
But I want you to feel like you are in this field. To imagine a giant brown swath of recently harvested onions and that this process is taking place on the end rows while you are in the middle of the field. This section has already been harvested but there are plenty of onions they missed. You breathe in the potent smell, eyes tearing up and nose running as you slowly metal detect your way across it.
Yes. You are metal detecting.
For fun.
Surrounded by modern tools doing modern things (loud, efficient, sloppy) while you swing a modern 2-pound detector in hopes of finding something interesting.
And, by the way, you are in England, because there’s way more history of metal use there than in the US and you’ve taken multiple expensive COVID tests to be here among the onions.
Are you with me? Walking slow, swinging that detector with your right arm? Holding a shovel in your left hand? (Sorry, lefties.) Listening for beeps just begging to be dug and then turning out to be chunks of soda cans or lead blobs?
Every time you hear a signal worth digging you repeat the process of pinpointing it, digging until it’s out, then isolating whatever clump of metal is waiting to be discovered.
99 times out of 100 you dig up junk.
Like, absolute trash.
New trash. Old trash. Trash you can’t even tell what it is trash.
And then…
You unearth a clump of dense bronze.
It’s a strange rotty green.
You think, “Well, that’s old. Only ancient bronze is this color.” (Yes. You know that at least.)
And then you clean all the dirt off of it and discover that this really old piece of bronze isn’t just a blob. It kind of comes to a point. And if you turn it...
“OMG it’s a socketed axe head.”
Like, the broken tip of a Bronze Age axe head.
As in, this thing broke and was discarded sometime around 850 B.C.
It could be that the last person who touched it touched it THEN, likely cursing the broken tool.
Still with me?
It’s a surreal feeling. Finding what someone else lost. Recognizing it and connecting with the past.
Holding history.
Physical history.
Crafting a narrative in your mind as you blow your onion irritated nose and imagine the ancient landscape of a modern field.
It happened to me last week.
My first axe head tip.
And I loved the moment. I indulged in it.
Cut to the present: These days we’re leaving a different trail.
A trail of digital content.
Articles, videos, and newsletters, perhaps? All waiting to be discovered and experienced.
Is yours identifiable? Does it bring people into a story they want to be a part of?
Is it creating meaningful moments for them?
Think of your newsletter as a reason to detect that onion field.
But cut right to the valuable substance without making your subscribers dig up trash.
Get straight to the good stuff.
Psst: If you’re a curator, it’s your job to sort the trash from the treasure.
Now, let’s get to the links I’ve collected for you this week. It’s good to be back from vacation, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was back amongst the onions.
My Bronze Age axe head tip.
“I’d rather have 1 new email subscriber than 1,000 more followers on Facebook.” —Rand Fishkin, SparkToro.
I’m assuming this quote is going to resonate with you, dear newsletter creator. Because you understand how wonderful it is to know the message you want to share will be seen by at least 20%, maybe even 60 or 70%, of the people who expressed interest in seeing it.
Editorial email newsletters win inbox attention. Period.
And part of the reason is because big tech and algorithms have stifled creator incentive to publish outside of platforms.
Rand recently published this piece on just how frustrating it is to try to use social media to drive traffic to a website. And he’s right.
The options he offers to navigate our current plight are helpful: find ways to benefit from platforms, link off-platform less frequently, FOCUS ON EMAIL SUBSCRIBERS, and try to achieve amplification from established brands/personalities with large followings.
It’s not that he’s saying SEO is dead. But he does seem to be saying it’s not your strongest play right now if you’re hoping to build an audience.
I, a newsletter sender, obviously want to lean into the idea that newsletters are a way to combat the algorithm giants we love/hate. But I think it’s important to understand that a creator has to balance the challenge of being discovered (aka marketing, which all but requires we have a social strategy of some sort) and publishing something worth discovering.
That means learning to adhere to the finicky demands of social platforms: like placing links to your site in a comment so that the post performs better or choosing to forgo site traffic and delivering a valuable message in the feed.
At the same time, you’ll need to exert the effort required to actually reward the people on that email list you’re building with reasons to open and engage.
They don’t necessarily have to be drastically different actions. You can repurpose and adapt content from email to platforms and vice versa.
Both serve a purpose.
Social helps you build a brand presence and engage.
The newsletter should deliver content they don’t want to miss.
Does yours?
My life news that impacts you: I’ll be away for the next 2 weeks in England metal detecting. We’re going to skip next week (Sept. 16) and Seth is going to send an issue on Sept. 23 that includes links but minimal commentary. I have full confidence he’ll include some goodies to hold you over until I return.
Now, on to the interesting thoughts I’ve pulled together for this week.
Have you created a newsletter creation workflow that keeps you on track?
Here’s my weekly curation process:
1) I follow keywords using good old-fashioned Google Alerts, scan them once a week, and collect any headlines that seem like they might serve you, a newsletter creator.
2) I subscribe to newsletters from people/companies who create and share content. I scan them once a week (in a separate mailbox) and collect any headlines that seem like they might serve you, a newsletter creator.
3) I use automations to collect links to articles from people/companies who consistently produce quality content that might serve you, a newsletter creator.
4) I use a similar automation to collect links to new content from YouTube channels and podcasts created by people/companies who consistently produce quality content that might serve you, a newsletter creator.
5) If I read something on social media or in my day-to-day life that might be a good fit, I collect the link because I think it might serve you, a newsletter creator.
6) I use Curated (yes, a brand I market—this newsletter is intended to show you how it can be used) to review those links I've collected to it and import the ones that seem the most relevant into the next issue. Some were already categorized into the sections they fit into as I collected them, some need categorizing.
7) I look at the mix of content for each section, dive into each piece, and reorder them within my established topic categories based on how well each one will serve you, a newsletter creator.
8) I delete the ones that fall short of serving you, a newsletter creator.
9) I then force myself to do more rounds of cuts until I have only the best.
10) I write my commentary for the pieces that made it through the last round of curation. The prompt for that commentary is "This piece of content will serve a newsletter creator well because..." I write my intro, subject, and preview text last.
Let me know if this is anything like your own workflow or helps you with yours. I’m always looking for ways to improve it.
And, yes, it is Friday. Thank you for noticing that I changed my send day (just for this crazy week!).
Shall we proceed to the part where I share the best stuff I found?
