PrologueWho are you writing your newsletter to?
If I read what you write, will I know?
I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve been deep in editing mode this week or because it’s just on my mind, but I’d like to address why you need to match your voice and tone to the specific audience you’re writing for.
It sounds so easy, right?
But it’s actually hard.
And I think it’s because people sit down to write and they imagine a college lecture hall of readers about to read what they’ve written and it prompts some sort of academic knee jerk response to elevate the language to a tier worthy of a stodgy professor’s tenured opinion.
But… is that who you are writing to?
Maybe we accidentally imagine a boardroom of potential investors pulling apart our words and crushing our dreams?
Maybe we picture CEOs nitpicking our word choice and start writing on the defense, protecting our decisions to cover specific topics with bland language.
It’s natural to experience this.
But, unless your newsletter is actually for those specific audiences, it’s probably time to step back and read what you’ve written aloud. As you do, decide if the words you chose and the way you delivered the message sound more like a formal presentation than a letter from one human to another.
The best way to actually get to the point where you sit down to write and it comes out more… REAL is to talk to people you write to, understand them, and then imagine them as you draft.
If you’re reading this and we’ve spoken before, there’s a good chance I thought of you as I wrote this. (30 minutes before sending it out, by the way. It’s been that kind of week.)
There’s some good stuff in this issue, though. Let’s check it out.
Let’s think about how your newsletter can be what someone didn’t know they really needed.
If you want readers who open and engage with each issue, then you’ve got to create something worth the effort it takes to do that.
In fact, you’ve got to create something that makes it feel like it’s NOT EVEN EFFORT.
This past weekend, my youngest daughter was determined to walk the neighborhood on Sunday afternoon looking for treasures. We’ve discovered that this is when everyone puts out quality stuff they want to get rid of (trash pickup is Monday morning).
The previous weekend my husband had taken the girls and their cousin out and they found a set of elongated souvenir pennies. Score!
Some people make an effort to post pictures of what they’re putting out in a Buy & Sell neighborhood Facebook group. They title the post “Curb Alert,” and if you time it right you might snatch up something good. Our next door neighbors grabbed a bouncy house this way.
But others just put it on the curb and let the vultures scavenge.
Josie, 9, was obsessed with getting out Sunday and finding something.
So off she and Sal went—she on her scooter and he on foot—scouring boxes of junk that might have something worthwhile. Treasure hunting, they called it.
Meanwhile, I relaxed at home, searching Amazon for a pineapple lamp to go in her new room. Her bed was due to arrive this week and her comforter has pineapples on it, so I thought it would be fun to get a lamp that matched, but I wasn’t having much luck. Nothing was just right.
Turns out they went around the entire neighborhood and didn’t see anything good. They’d even had to hang out under a tree during a quick summer storm and decided to call it a loss and head in after.
Then, as they turned on our street, they saw a pile of little girl room goodies that hadn’t been there earlier. And—get this—one of the best things was a light pink pineapple lamp the color of her new bed!
She was ecstatic.
It was perfect.
After a quick cleaning and drying session (the rain!), they tested it and IT WORKED!
Days later, she is still giddy. “It matches sooooooo good!”
Are you creating a newsletter that prompts this level of contentment?
Imagine your newsletter is my neighborhood on Sunday.
Is it worth exploring?
Walking in the rain for?
Treasure hunting?
Is it an adventure readers continue to take because they know there’s a pink pineapple lamp (or something more fitting) waiting for them in the next issue?
If not, can you make it one?
Now, let’s shed some light on the newsletter world.
Ever watched The Godfather Trilogy?
You know how at the end of each film all the storylines get wrapped up at once?
Sal (my husband) and I refer to these endings at moments in life when everything seems to be coming together at once.
That was my life this week.
If you recall, our family made a big move from Florida to Mississippi (Sal and I grew up here) in June.
We immediately listed our Florida house for sale, enrolled the girls in summer activities in a state that seems to think Covid-19 is a nuisance, nothing more, and spent a few months with Sal driving back and forth to Florida to move our stuff out of the house.
There was an offer that fell through. Unpacking to do here. And an upstairs air conditioner that wasn’t up to actually working in the Mississippi heat.
In other words: life happened.
But, somehow, we made it to the first week of school for our daughters, who started 6th and 4th grades this Monday.
And we closed on selling the house to buyers who did not fall through (also on Monday).
And a part finally came in to fix the downstairs air conditioner just as the motor began to moan its death song (Saturday).
If you’ve watched The Godfather Trilogy, besides recognizing Fredo’s unwarranted confidence in his mob leader aptitude in my email subject, you know that the neatly tied up ending of one movie quickly unfolds with the beginning of another.
Our next narratives:
How long will it take for both daughters to retest into the gifted program? We came with very impressive paperwork, but the state requires they go through its testing process to be in the program. This involves me being “that mom” who is filling out forms and doing whatever it takes to expedite the process. Let’s hope it’s not too long.
Why aren’t girls here encouraged to participate in STEM courses? My 6th grader managed to get her schedule changed so she can take robotics and she’ll be one of two girls in the program. I realize I could be making a generalization, but I hope she doesn’t have to do this every step of the way. I was the only girl in my AP Calculus and Physics classes so this frustration is a bit induced by the loneliness I experienced in feeling like an oddball for wanting to take them. High school haunts me.
Will we be able to travel to England for a metal detecting holiday next month? It’s a hobby Sal turned into a career and I’m eager to hop the pond and find really old stuff. So far, it looks like we’ll get to go, but I won’t believe it until we’re on a plane. And, by the way, where the heck is my passport? Moving is so disorienting.
What about you? Do you tie off storylines and open more loops?
Do you share them in your newsletter?
Even if you’re not sharing quite as much personal information as I do, your audience likely craves episodic content.
Make sure you’re building a narrative that warrants opening the next issue.
And if you’re hoping to launch a newsletter, check out Curated News because I’m launching a challenge next week for a small cohort of creators.
Now, let’s talk newsletters.
When we moved from Florida in June, I had a bit of regret about a thing I should have done but didn’t when we lived there.
I really wish I had taken the time to go to our beach entrance and watch the sunrise over the Atlantic more often.
It was lovely when I did.
It set the pace for the day.
But I didn’t actually do it very often and I have no one to blame but myself.
An interesting thing happened after we moved, though.
A friend who lived nearby started posting daily sunrise photos from her beach entrance on Instagram/Facebook.
So now, each morning when I check my feed, I see and like her photos.
It feels like they’re for me.
This friend went through A LOT last year, and though we were in touch in a get-things-done-for-our-daughters sort of way, I had no clue about her heaviest heavy stuff. It’s stuff she’s moving past, and I think the morning beach walks are part of her healing.
They’re part of my healing, too.
They’re a taste of something I meant to do but didn’t, and now I get to enjoy what should have been in a different way.
These vicarious sunrises are becoming a new ritual for me.
If we think of this in terms of newsletters (because, I know, I know, that’s social media—not email), I think it hits close to the most important goal of the genre: to build connection by sharing.
Above all else, a newsletter is an outlet for creating and sharing something important to you/your brand with people who agree it’s important and welcome it into their lives.
It can be you inviting them into a world you build for them to inhabit.
It can be therapeutic and ritualistic.
It can be the sunrises they want to make time for.
Now, let’s see what newsletter news we can shed some fresh light on today.
I’ve got a problem.
I really, really hate creating something that isn’t considered unique and memorable.
If you want to watch me spiral into misery, tell me to go do a thing the way someone else did a thing.
It
drives
me
insane.
I dread mediocrity.
And, even more, I NEED whatever I create to stand out.
Which brings me to a current project that I’ve decided to share with you because I think you can help me:
Curated’s website is now on Webflow and I can actually make changes to it (it used to be inside the app’s codebase).
We went ahead and added our free tier to the site to communicate that loud and clear via CTAs (calls to action buttons like “Start for Free”).
Next, I’m planning to update the Features page. Here’s where my problem comes into play: I don’t want a boring list of features with meh descriptions.
I want to focus on the results those features help newsletter writers achieve.
I want narrative.
AND I want site visitors to feel like it’s easy to navigate to the features that would most benefit them (it’s not the same for every persona).
So before I just go write and design it the way I think it should be communicated, I thought I would ask your opinion. It’s really important to me that we don’t just assume you value a feature for what we think it does for you, but that we understand what you use it for and why you like or don’t like it.
So I’ve created a Google Form that asks you to rate how important a feature is to you and explain why you like having it.
This is NOT EXCLUSIVELY FOR CURATED USERS.
It’s for newsletter creators.
So I can understand and serve you better, even if you don’t use Curated.
I would be insanely grateful if you took a few minutes to fill it out and doesn't require an email address. You can rank and type responses, just rank, or just type a few–it’s up to you how detailed you want to get.
Here’s a list what’s included:
The newsletter lessons in this?
Thank you for indulging me in this request.
I’ll be back to more relevant storytelling next week.
I think my husband is having a midlife crisis.
Why?
Because he’s got our whole family creating vision boards.
Like, poster boards we are supposed to decorate with things we want in life.
Not only are we creating these boards, he had us watch The Secret: Dare to Dream last weekend to inspire us to focus on what we most want.
This is not within the realm of anything he’s ever done before.
He’s usually very anti anything hokey or “feel good.”
But here I am staring at a blank vision board in my office because he heard about the movie and the vision board concept in a podcast.
Since when does he listen to podcasts?
The concept is that you have to know what you want to get what you want.
And maybe that’s what paralyzes me.
Because what I want tends to change.
I have some solid desires: our family’s health, financial stability, etc.
And then I have some materialistic ones: a new SUV, magazine photo-worthy home decor, and a luxurious European vacation.
My youngest daughter quickly filled hers up with birthday present ideas: a drone, a teacup pomeranian, hair dyed like a rainbow that shows only on the underside.
But something in me feels embarrassed to create that type of wish list.
What I really want is moments.
Experiences that happen when you do things.
That feeling when you climb a mountain (literally).
Or go somewhere new together for the first time and explore.
I want adventures and the unfolding of narratives that can’t be manufactured or even predicted.
It took drafting this prologue to figure that out.
Life’s key moments are those of realization, I suppose.
That’s what sitting down and writing does for me.
It sharpens my vision.
Does forcing yourself to write to your readers do that for you?
Is your newsletter the type that takes them on a little mental journey?
If it is, I suggest starting with this prompt:
What’s troubling me and might also be troubling my subscribers?
For me it was the blank board and my husband’s unnerving positive-thinking kick.
Chances are, whatever is troubling you could turn into a way to connect and further the sender/recipient relationship a newsletter so fittingly supports.
Plus, you could figure out what you want.
This issue is brimming with inspiration, from newsletters you might want to turn to for inspiration, to conversational copywriting, to how influential the genre is becoming.
I hope you like it.
Let me know if you do.
A few weeks ago Zoom was glitchy and my all-remote team decided to meet using Slack for our video meeting.
You should have heard the groaning.
It was unbearable.
Everything was in a different place.
Like when you drive someone else’s car and you keep washing the windshield instead of using the turn signal.
We were all a little dramatic about it.
Me, especially.
I like to think I’m more funny than annoying, but I’ll leave that to my co-workers to decide.
Anyway, we pushed through the meeting, but when we next met, on Zoom, it was refreshing to have everything where it was “supposed” to be.
It’s the concept of a “lived-in digital experience.”
This is something I was introduced to by my CEO before I came on staff at Simple Focus Software.
He’d shared this video of Patrick McNeely, VP of Operations at Simple Focus—the agency is different from the software company, but we share a CEO and ideas—explaining how designers should strive to create digital experiences that mimic life experiences.
He uses a pair of well-worn jeans as an example.
You’ve lived in them.
The threads are bare in places that reflect a certain movement you’ve made in them over and over.
And it’s a great way to think about software design.
It explains my team and our Slack video meeting woes.
But it can extend to newsletters.
Are you creating a “lived-in experience” for your readers?
Does your newsletter feel familiar?
Are your sections, your voice, your tone, and your style of delivering information becoming part of their lives?
Or could they replace you with a different newsletter and not really notice?
Today’s issue is a little thought-provoking. I read some articles this week that sent my head spinning in a “what is the meaning of (newsletter) life, anyway?” sort of way.
Let me know what you think.
I shared a special moment with my oldest daughter over the Fourth of July weekend.
No. It wasn’t watching fireworks.
Although, that was nice.
And it wasn’t seeing hot air balloons.
That was cool, too.
It was, instead, during a family meal as we discussed the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner.
My husband was explaining that the reason we shoot fireworks was to remember the battle for freedom, “You know, like in the song. Oh say can you see?”
At this point, I remembered what I ALWAYS remember when this song is sung:
That Ramona Quimby (beloved Beverly Cleary book character) thought that the next line of the song, By the dawn’s early light was actually by the dawnzer lee light.
When I mentioned this, my daughter had a lovely moment of respect for the fact that I actually remembered something I must have read when I was around her age.
Plus, it felt like a shared secret.
Dad and sister just didn’t “get it.”
Although I enjoyed reading aloud to my daughters before they could read themselves, I take great joy in the concept that when we’ve each read something individually, we’ve shared an experience.
Writers have the ability to create communities of readers that don’t need Facebook groups or Slack chats to know they belong to each other. All they really need to do is speak in code, using a term or phrase from the world that the writer built, realize they are members of that community, and bond over the excitement of the shared mental experience of reading that particular book or series.
I tend to gravitate toward friends who have overlapping reading tastes with my own. At times, it feels snobbish, but I can sometimes catch myself thinking, “If you haven’t read X, you probably don’t get me.” It’s a strange phenomenon.
Does your newsletter create this sense of mental community for your subscribers?
There’s a bit of chatter about community lately and the value of creating one (which I don’t discount), but I think some of the best communities are the ones built by sharing experiences that trigger almost sentimental memories.
Powerful writing, disruptive ideas, anything that sticks with others forms this sort of community. The experience of consuming the same content creates the bond.
A newsletter can BE community.
It’s a powerful thing, the dawnzer lee light.
Today’s issue offers ideas for preparing for Apple Mail’s upcoming privacy changes, a prompt to discuss what makes a newsletter “need to have,” and tips for enjoying the process of publishing.
Enjoy.
So I signed my daughters up for a day camp that I would want to go to myself.
It’s called a Young Filmmakers Workshop.
Doesn’t that sound AMAZING?
They’ll spend a week working in small groups to write, film, and produce mini movies to premiere the Saturday after it wraps.
They’re really excited.
The closest thing I did to this was a creative writing camp.
But I can remember the fun of spending a week learning about a craft and dorking out with other kids who cared about writing.
There’s something pretty magical about finding “your people” and really connecting as you work on a project together.
That happens for me with work projects sometimes. Those moments when it’s just so cool that you get paid for doing whatever you’re doing.
I know I’m not the only one.
That feeling also hits with Opt In Weekly, too, when readers respond and the newsletter feels a bit like a community. There are times when I get all the good feels from truly serving you.
Does your newsletter feel that way? Do you want it to?
Don’t be afraid to get a little vulnerable with your readers and welcome them into your world.
Invite them to your version of a young filmmakers workshop.
Give them a reason to be really excited to connect with someone who “gets them.”
Do it by really understanding what they care about and being helpful.
Learn what it’s like to be them.
Today’s issue is a nice mix of tips and insights from creators, marketers, and publishers who would be wonderful guest presenters for a newsletter creators workshop.
I’ll step aside and let their voices guide you.
Let me know what you think… and if you’d be interested in attending a small group newsletter makers workshop at some point. I feel a new project coming on.
Oh, and if you want to listen to me babble about newsletters on a podcast for industrial marketers, check that out here.
Let’s think through newsletter evolution.
I don’t care if they do or don’t teach it in schools in your state.
I’m here to say, “Newsletter evolution is real.”
And that we all need to be active participants in this phenomenon.
What do I mean?
Don’t be afraid to retire a segment, category, or whatever you call a content section of your newsletter.
It’s ok to change anything and everything.
The format.
The layout.
The way you deliver sections of content.
Magazines do this all the time.
Segments play out.
And that’s ok.
When you launch a new section, it may fail fast, or it may have several years in it.
Either is ok.
Your purpose is to keep your reader engaged.
That could mean changing things up.
I promise that very few people will respond in vehement anger, complaining you stopped publishing their favorite bit.
...But if they do, there is no rule that you can’t bring it back.
A newsletter is a wonderful way to test content to see which stories and formats your audience likes and which ones get a little action but then go stale.
Let your newsletter evolve.
Add, subtract, rearrange, and redecorate.
It’s all ok.
Today’s Prologue was inspired by the amazing content strategy mastermind I ran with Russ Henneberry, Founder of theCLIKK, last Friday. We had a blast helping people come up with ideas and this topic of evolution was a fun one to address. Now I’m thinking… “What will I change next?”
I hope you enjoy this issue.
