I am astounded by how many great newsletters there are—and how few I know about. We recently reviewed hundreds for a project. Yet every time I ask, I find dozens more.
They offer bewildering variety and freedom. It’s the only truly unmoderated mass channel. You can say or do anything. Are you thinking about writing one? I say, ignore anyone telling you there is a “right way.” They are only peddling comparison and anxiety.
Instead, just do you, clearly, on a cadence.
To that end, I won't say what you should do in this issue. I’m only going to tell you what you need not worry about. In that void, I hope you find permission.
(By the way, the team and I created an online writing course. We'll announce it tomorrow, you're hearing about it early. Join me in that first cohort?)
Observation 1: You needn’t be lengthy
Most newsletters are long. According to our research, those aimed at leaders are 2,200 words on average. (Really. Go check. It’s also true of Morning Brew and The Hustle.)
That said, they need not be.
If you are uniquely useful or entertaining, you can be vanishingly brief. See the humorist Bess Kalb’s The Grudge Report. It’s often just bullet points. (Hat tip to Natalie Taylor.)
Bess's style:
Bess’s brevity brings to mind Seth Godin. He got his start by committing to write one blog post every day. And while that deadline proved terrifying and insatiable, he hadn’t specified a length. He quickly grew into the prophet of the bite-sized business proverb.
It takes big brains to write such small things. But in Bess and Seth’s work, you can also see the key to getting your start: Write about what you do daily daily.
Observation 2: But you needn’t be brief if there’s that much to say
There is also that curatorial class of writer who likes to compact a whole niche into a series of choice links each week. That is one of the highest services you can do for others—in effect, saying, “This is all you need to focus on right now.”
What a gift.
And you can do this while still being quite long. See Ben Dietz’s SicWeekly (paywall, but you should be able to view one issue free). I don’t know if this is every single thing he encounters each week or just a selection, but I can only imagine the chaos that is his desktop. His hard work allows me to browse the edges of the known internet. (Hat tip to Jasmine Takanikos.)
Observation 3: You needn’t commentate
Consider this your permission: You do not need to opine, moralize, criticize, satirize, quip, remark, lecture, yak, york, or indulge in any form of punditry. You can offer zero opinions and just links.
Although, you do see how Conor’s still commentating without commentating, don’t you? He’s chosen his links very carefully, and that in itself is a story. They cleave to a certain political ideology that I do not share, though I’m able to enjoy the service nonetheless.
Observation 4: You needn't hold back
Okay, maybe you hated my last point. Maybe punditry is your thing. In which case, update your headshot and let loose. Those who are for you will find you, and it’s a bit like talk radio. Tuning in is basically hanging out with you.
And if you’ve got the gift of storytelling, they’ll hang out for all 4,743 words, as people do for Matt Levine at Bloomberg. (Paywall; Hat tip to Maya Spivak.)
Or, hang on, they might even hang out for all 6,821 words, as is the case with The Hot Sheet, the much-loved literary world newsletter by journalist Jane Friedman. (Hat tip to Linsey Knerl.)
Observation 5: You needn't conform
Emily Sundberg, author of Feed Me, posts selfies with her cultural commentary. (Hat tip to Sylvie Carr.) Emily starts the story anywhere and leaps anywhere next. It lacks transitions. It pirouettes from “Good morning” to TikTok scams to a hard upsell on a paid subscription.
But it’s sort of delightful in that way. Like a meandering long-distance call with a friend.
For similar informality, albeit more words, is Rachel Karten’s Link in Bio, a newsletter about working as a social media manager. I love how she doesn't kowtow to the brands she features.
Observation 6: You needn't perform
What I love most about Carina Rampelt’s newsletter Reverdie is Carina. It’s pure her. Kind. Thoughtful. Clear. Uncommonly articulate. Subversively relaxed and upbeat for startupland. Every issue is a master class in the art of the anecdote.
Similarly, what I love most about Elliot Aronow’s newsletter minor genius is Elliot Aronow. The letter is him and the news is his. And he doesn’t always present his best self. In the issue linked, he starts with a story about being a terrible person and just when you think he’s serious, he acknowledges what you’re both thinking.
It’s lightweight, enjoyable, no big taxing thing to pick up and read.
Observation 7: It needn’t be about work
The newsletter “Why is this interesting” by Noah Brier and Colin Nagy delivers that discovery euphoria of the early internet. And it’s not about work. It’s not really about anything. Just guest contributors or the authors explaining a random topic and in personal terms, why it’s interesting. (Hat tip to Elliot Aronow.)
That’s a great gift, people: Inspire readers with ideas outside their context.
Observation 8: You need not spare readers’ feelings
Did I pick BrandHuman’s newsletter The Antidote because Amanda designed it or my wife wrote it? Can the answer be neither? I chose it because it is a genuinely stunning monthly jolt of visuals and poetry to remind us that we’re all better off when we accept that we’re emotional beings at work—and love each other for it.
(So, is this a double hat tip to me?)
Speaking of feelings, the mental health newsletter Wondermind is also great. What is it about newsletters about mental wellbeing that they’re always well-designed? (Hat tip to Amanda Tennant.)
How to apply today's story
Two important takeaways here. One, that I clearly ran out of time on this newsletter because I was working on the writing course. But it still worked, right? Curation demands little and offers much.
And two, nobody cares if you miss something. I advertised nine “things” in the subject line and delivered eight to illustrate the fact that email audiences are forgiving. I don’t think you’ll be breaking your keyboard over that phantom ninth point; nor will your readers be enraged if you miss a day.
Give yourself grace. Even say so in your welcome email, as we do at Fenwick, as a reminder that we’re all just a bunch of nice people doing our best.
From the Longview welcome email:
Now, a point on consistency, or my lack thereof. I only send the newsletter when we here at Fenwick actually have something valuable to share. Each month, I aim to write two. Sometimes there's just one. That's normal. And perhaps, if you too are on a never-ending quest for inbox zero, it's even appreciated.
My LinkedIn issue. (As in, I'm trying to be there and be effective and fear I'm not getting it. Will share some wins and losses.)
Inside Fenwick
We launch our online writing course tomorrow. Outside work, Clarissa’s watercoloring and Amanda’s shoveling snow. Carina’s welcoming Callie (a stray, and pregnant!) into her home. Inside work, Donnique’s writing for Pathways and Sarah begged an important question about executive coaching. Alas, much of our other work is locked away behind an NDA but if you’re an executive at a large company you may receive it in your inbox.
Unpopular opinion: That Verge article wasn’t about you. Or am I missing something? Anybody who’s mad at the author could not have read until the end, because the author changes her mind. This is the point. It’s a journey of acceptance.
Watch: Eric Doty on being a content team of one. The first few minutes about “starting out trying to do Pulitzer Prize-winning stuff” then growing realistic resonates. There’s a tradeoff. It can’t be all quality, no quantity. Unless you’re Carina, and you can write Broetry, which alone continues to generate 40 percent of Fenwick’s site traffic.
Failure museum. Maintained by a venture capitalist. Reminds me of how Bessemer Venture Partners keeps an “anti-portfolio” of all the investments they missed.
Mixpanel. A nice-ish design system. (Does the logo have too much negative space?)
