Five honest things I want to tell you about your newsletter

I’ve subscribed to hundreds of newsletters over the years. Some because I wanted to read them, some for clients, and some because I clicked a button at 2am and can’t remember why.

Here’s what I’ve learned: most newsletter creators are making the same avoidable mistakes. The kind that make readers hit unsubscribe before they’ve even given you a proper chance.

I’m not talking about minor design choices or whether you use GIFs. I’m talking about fundamental problems that signal you don’t actually care about the experience you’re creating.

So let me be honest with you. These are the five things killing your newsletter before it has a chance to grow.

I have no idea what you write about

Your about page is three paragraphs of flowery language about your “journey” and your “passion for storytelling.” Cool. But what do you actually write about? I’ll be damned if I know.

I shouldn’t have to read five past issues to figure out if your newsletter is about marketing, memoir writing, or medieval history. Your homepage should tell me in one sentence. Your bio should tell me in half a sentence. Even your newsletter name should ideally give me a clue.

If I land on your page and think “this could be about anything,” I’m gone. There are 47 other newsletters in my inbox that didn’t make me work this hard.

Your welcome email is a template and I can tell

You know the one. That standard Substack email that everyone has seen a million times before.

This is the first thing I see from you after I hand over my email address. It’s your one shot at making me excited I subscribed, or a chance to remind me about who you are.

Write something real. Tell me why you started this thing. Share your best post from last month. Give me a reason to open your next email instead of letting it rot in my promotions tab. Anything except that soulless template that basically says “I couldn’t be bothered.”

You never link to your other work

You mentioned you have a podcast. You referenced an article you wrote last year. You casually dropped that you have a portfolio of published pieces.

Where are the links, people?!

I’m interested. I want to see more. I care! But you’ve made me go hunting through your social media or Google your name like some kind of detective. By the time I give up, I’ve forgotten why I was looking in the first place.

If you’ve done work you’re proud of, show me. Put it in your about page. Link it in relevant posts. Share it in a header or footer. Make it easy for readers to go deeper.

You promise things you don’t deliver

Your welcome email said you publish every Tuesday and Friday. It’s been eleven days since your last post.

You told me this newsletter would include actionable tips, case studies, and interviews. I’ve received four personal essays and a recipe.

I know I’m being facetious, and I’m not saying you can’t change direction or take breaks. Life happens. Plans shift. But if you set expectations, either meet them or update them. Don’t just ghost your commitments and hope nobody notices.

Every broken promise is another reason for your readers to tune out. They stop trusting that you’ll show up altogether. They stop opening your emails because they’re not sure what they’re getting anymore.

Your rambling posts go nowhere

Last week you sent me 1,200 words about your trip to the supermarket. There was a bit about the self-checkout, something about organic vegetables, and a tangent about your childhood. It ended with something along the lines of “anyway, just some thoughts.”

Great. And what was the point of that?

If you want to write a casual blog where you dump your stream of consciousness, fine. You do you! Start a personal Substack and call it a diary. But if you’ve positioned your newsletter as a resource, a learning tool, or anything beyond “here’s what happened to me today,” then I at least want something I can take away.

I don’t need every piece to be a masterclass. But I need to finish reading and think “I got something from that.” A new perspective. A useful idea. A laugh. Something! I’m not judging.

Otherwise I’m just watching you think out loud, and I’ve got better things to do.

So what next?

Fix your about page today. Rewrite your welcome email this weekend. Check your last five posts and ask yourself if they actually delivered what you promised.

I know that most people on here aren’t doing this for a living, and perhaps aren’t interested in growth. And that’s just fine!

Your newsletter doesn't need to be perfect. But you should still respect your readers' time and intelligence. Fix these simple issues and you'll improves readability, grow trust, and build an audience who actually cares about your work.

Read this and feel like it didn’t apply to you? Great job. You’re already on the right track to growing a successful newsletter.

---

Still making these mistakes?

Let's fix them!

Book a free 15-minute chat to talk through your newsletter, figure out what's actually holding you back, and see if coaching makes sense for you. No pressure, just honest feedback about your next steps.