So… apparently I’m ruining lives. By sending emails. I know Kate.
This is serious.
Here’s a sampling from the “fan mail” I've gotten over the years:
“OMG. WAY too many emails. Go away.”
"I signed up for business tips, not politics. SHUT UP!"
"UNSUBSCRIBE!!! You’re a disgrace.”
"NOBODY CARES! Stop emailing me. I don't even know how I got on this list."
(All said about a newsletter they signed up for voluntarily… in case you thought I murdered someone’s puppy.
And yes, those aren't AI generated. They are truly verbatim copy paste. People are unwell.)
This month alone, I got called:
“gross, tone-deaf, and lazy. A remarkable disappointment. BYE”
It wasn’t enough for her to scroll down, find the unsubscribe link (which is right there, in plain sight), and quietly disappear like a normal person.
Nope.
She needed me to know—needed me to feel it in my soul—that my emails about running a soul-led, sustainable business had personally ruined her day life!
(Also... why are they always in ALL CAPS? Is it a cry for help? Did they just discover the caps lock key and now they can’t turn it off? So many questions.)
But get this...
…two hours later, someone else replied:
“Your emails are my favorite part of my day. Never stop.”
Same emails. Wildly different reactions.
Honestly, the rage replies crack me up. The people who write entire manifestos about why they're leaving. It’s like announcing you’re leaving a party by grabbing the microphone to explain, in detail, why the music sucks and the snacks are disappointing.
Just... go?
(I personally am a big fan of the Irish goodbye)
One guy even threatened to “report me to the authorities.”
The authorities! I’m picturing the FBI’s Unprofessional Email Division kicking down my door. "Ma'am, we have a report of... feelings... being shared in a marketing newsletter. Put your hands where I can see them."
I digress Kate. I actually do have a point here.
My point is... here's the thing about emailing 9,000 people multiple times a week—some of those people are going to have opinions.
Strong ones. Loud ones.
Opinions they feel compelled to share at 6 AM on a Sunday, apparently.
I get it. Your inbox is sacred real estate. Mine too. I'm ruthless with the unsubscribe button when something doesn't serve me anymore.
And listen, I’m not saying the hate mail doesn’t sting a teeny bit (promise I'm still human even if I get help from AI sometimes).
Or that I don't, for a split second, have that familiar thought: Should I be more buttoned up? Should I just give the ‘5 Ways to Optimize Your Funnel’ and cut the stories about my kid's meltdown over his Sonic drawing?
But then I remember: If you’re for everybody, you’re for nobody.
Trying to be universally liked is the fastest way to become forgettable.
Think about it. Not everyone likes sushi. Or Wes Anderson movies. Or the undeniable genius of King of Queens. (Their loss, frankly.)
My personal "not for me" list includes:
- Waking up at 5 a.m. (My body physically rejects this.)
- The phrase "crush it." (Sounds violent, vaguely sweaty, and like something a frat boy would yell before doing a keg stand.)
- The thirsty Gen Z-ers at the pool last week who spent 45 straight minutes taking selfies. One or two pics? Fine. But a marathon of duck lips and “candid” hair flips for the male gaze? Hard pass.
Other people live for these things. That's okay. To each their own.
And when it comes to emails, well, if everyone likes your emails, they're probably boring as hell.
The same energy that makes someone write "UNSUBSCRIBE ME NOW!" makes someone else forward your email to their best friend with "OMG THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER."
And I don't know about you Kate, but I'd rather have 100 people who genuinely connect with my weird mix of business strategy and oversharing than 10,000 people who think I'm "fine."
Fine is forgettable.
Fine doesn't build million-dollar businesses.
Fine doesn't change lives.
And also, here’s the thing about people who rage-reply or announce their dramatic exits from your email list:
It says way more about them than it does about you.
👉 Maybe they’re having a bad day. They sure do sound miserable.
👉 Maybe they feel personally victimized by my font choice.
👉 Maybe their love language is "writing a strongly-worded letter to the manager" and I am simply today's unsuspecting barista.
👉 Maybe they’re allergic to the idea of successful women with opinions (a common condition, I hear.)
My point is, it's rarely about you. So you do you. And keep emailing your list.
Because the other thing I know to be true: the more emails I send, the more people I help and the more money I make.
OK. Rant over. For now.
Thanks for being here Kate. And if you ever want to leave? There's a button for that. No manifesto required.
P.S. If you’re secretly scared of sending “too many emails” because someone might get mad, let me save you the suspense: they will.
But the only thing worse than sending an email that makes one person hit unsubscribe? Not sending the emails that would change someone else’s life. So let the unsubscribers go. Bless and release. They’re making space for the people who are here for YOU.
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