Hello my friend,
How are you?
Are you more chocolate than person? I am writing this the day before Easter Sunday so cannot currently ascertain quite how much or how little chocolate has been consumed in our household. Likely not much because we’re not very ‘chocolatey’ people … or at least I’m not.
Although it’s Bank Holiday Monday when you get this letter I am back into the fray; mentally at the very least. The last two weeks of low-gear slow movement have been a much-needed salve to the grind and grate of a furious few months. Lots of outgoing energy and not so much coming back.
That said I've been pressing May's free challenge pretty hard over the last three weeks and, slowly, momentum is gaining.
But, that’s enough rambling. I want to throw a question your way.
Do I have a content problem?
I’ve been thinking a whole lot about this email and my newsletter communication world at large. I want to grow what I do with it over the next year but am feeling quite ‘stuck’ and it’s driving me to question things. A lot. After watching a fantastic talk on newsletter growth by Chenel Basilio of Growth In Reverse I am asking myself that really big question.
Do I have a content problem?
Most newsletters serve a singular purpose; maybe two if they’re really good. They’ll help the reader make time or save time; save money, make money, or utilise their money in profoundly effective ways. The greatest newsletters motivate, inspire, inform, and educate. Maybe not all at the same time but those super-valuable outcomes exist in spades.
Considering what I write - this email and my twice-monthly ‘In Case You Missed It’ round-up - I ask myself where I fit in this universe of value. What is ‘the point and purpose’ of the things I send? I mean, they’re not particularly niche.
So what are they?
For me - and I hope for you as well - I believe I know what this email is for. It is here to keep the conversation moving. To hold the door ajar like the bedroom on a dark night so you can hear my voice and see the landing light just a crack. Whatever I write - from my experience, my expertise, or just a note to check in with you - it’s keeping our communication open.
But then I have to question what the value really is.
What hook do I have within these musings to engage new readers and encourage them to subscribe so I can then reach more inboxed, eyes, hearts, and minds and therefore write even more content?
One begets the other and so the cycles continue…
It’s always going to be a process of learning and iteration.
Looking back over the last couple of years to where I began my approach was modestly different. There was an editorial intro, sure, but then there was hyper-focussed creative coaching content. Valuable maybe but not sustainable because that particular ‘niche focus’ ended up not being exciting for me (and if I don’t find it exciting I imagine you sure as hell won’t either).
Fast forward to today and we get to this: a weekly letter to a friend which starts on pen and paper before meandering onto the digital page. The frame of the ‘letter’ gives this email a purpose. A platform for me to share what’s on my mind; stories from the table of a business-owning parent, carer, coach, and creative. Someone who is - maybe - in the same boat as you.
Sure, I’d love to have scores of new people signing up each week to reap the benefits of being ‘on my list’ because the content is hyper-niche and giving people ‘that one thing’ they need. But then it feels less personal.
I’m happy that I get to talk to you and hope that you enjoy these words as you indulge momentarily in your Monday morning coffee.
And as you get here might I ask a favour of you?
Please may you hit REPLY and tell me what you think of these emails?
Even 10 replies from the 100+ people to whom it is sent will give me a better sense of where I stand. I’ll share my findings (and what I’m going to do with them) in the next few letters.
Now, enjoy your week; be kind to yourself.
’Til later,
Tom