Back when I first started writing online, a mentor shared some well-intentioned advice with me.
He said that my email newsletter looked “too plain.” It lacked graphics, a brand image, or even color. It was just plain text.
“He’s got a point,” I thought. To jazz things up, I hired a designer to create some fancy branding and sprinkle graphic magic on each weekly edition.
The result? Visually stunning. Sleek. Professional.
But something unexpected happened. Audience engagement plummeted, and unsubscribe rates climbed.
After weeks of observing a steady decline in readership, I realized I had made a mistake. The new corporate look masked the personal touch that my readers loved. It even affected the way I wrote—the tone of my emails became less like a cozy fireside chat and more like a corporate presentation.
The truth is, I’d been tempted. I wanted to look like I belonged—like a “real” writer with a “real” brand. But in trying to fit in, I erased what made me stand out.
“Originality consists of returning to the origin,” Antoni Gaudi said. So I went back to my origin, stripped away the gloss, and returned to the basics: writing like I was chatting with a friend. No branding, no graphics, just me and you having a personal conversation.
This wasn’t just a stylistic choice. It was a way for me to reclaim my voice and my approach.
The impact was immediate. Average open rates—the percentage of people who click on and read my emails—soared to over 50%, a number that would make any seasoned marketer’s jaw drop. And when I shared my creations—a book or a course—readers eagerly jumped on board.
What does this mean for you?
We often get swayed by advice, especially from people we admire. It’s easy to think that their way is the only way. But what works for one person may not work for you.
After all, we create things—whether it’s art, a business, or a simple newsletter—because we’re dissatisfied with the status quo.
So why fall back on the very conventions you’re trying to reimagine?
Here’s the thing: People notice things because of contrast. Something stands out because it’s different from what surrounds it. If you blend into the background—if you turn your idiosyncratic emails to yet another glossy newsletter—you become invisible. You become the background.
Your journey, your narrative, your perspective—that’s your superpower. That’s what makes people stop scrolling, read your email, or buy your product. People connect with stories and individuals, not just polished content.
My informal, no-frills emails resonated because they were real. And it turns out, people like real. Sure, some readers prefer glossy newsletters, but they aren’t my audience. Trying to please everyone only weakens your magnet.
If you find yourself lost in the copy-and-paste culture, return to your origin. Remember why you started.
It’s not just about choosing the path less traveled.
It’s about choosing your path.
And that makes all the difference.
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