Puppy buses and care packages
What we can learn about effective storytelling from four organizational newsletters that are so great you’ll actually read them
When I was pregnant, the doorbell frequently rang to announce package deliveries from friends or family. Even without the return address, I could immediately tell which packages came from one of my relatives.
A package from my clan always came in a USPS flat rate box, and while never large, was heavy enough to require reinforcement from several layers of packaging tape. Inside each of these packages, I’d find the “core” gift—baby clothes, say, or dried persimmons, which supposedly boost fetal development—buried at the nucleus of a dense nest of seemingly miscellaneous items ranging from old hand towels to triple packs of men’s socks.
The magic of a flat rate box is that it costs a flat rate, no matter how much you put inside! That’s a deal my family just can’t resist. They will fill every nook and cranny of that box. And while to the untrained observer, it may look like they looted random cabinets and closets of their house to do so, my relatives certainly felt that every item in the box was useful—the towels would come in handy for the messes that inevitably come with a baby, and the men’s socks would accommodate my swelling feet.
But from my perspective, the socks and towels just felt like clutter. My husband and I were frantically in the process of cleaning out the house to make room for the endless equipment that our tiny human would need. So I put the baby clothes away in the nursery, the persimmons in the pantry, and everything else in a growing heap of donations to cart to Goodwill.
We might not all feel a primal urge to stuff a flat-rate box to capacity, but I’ve noticed that social sector professionals sometimes have a tendency to approach storytelling with the same mindset of stuffing as many items as possible into an allotted space, without considering the cohesion or value of those items to our audience. If we’re allotted five hundred words per response in a grant application, we will squeeze as many points as we can into those five hundred words, even if we can get our key point across in two-hundred-and-fifty. If we’re allotted three minutes per question on a panel, we’ll avoid the facilitator’s eye and take just under four.
And then there’s that favorite social sector storytelling tool: the org newsletter.
Most of the partners with whom I work want to launch a newsletter. When I ask them what they’d like their newsletter to be about, they start rattling off a list: project case studies, volunteer spotlights, partner profiles, impact stories, longform op-eds, org announcements, links to sector news, a calendar of upcoming events, etc… The wish list grows longer. Then, they ask: “But wait! How much content can we include without our newsletter being clipped in Gmail?” Or, “How much content can we get through to the audience before they lose interest? What’s the optimum word count for audience engagement?”
I always respond truthfully that I’m not an email marketing expert. I don't know what technical tricks or formatting gimmicks will optimize readership. But I do know the principles of good storytelling, and they do not include compiling random items and then deciding how much I can fit into a flat-rate box.
Rather than starting with what items we find worthwhile to share, good storytelling requires that we start by defining what our audience will find most worthwhile to consume. I’ll read something if it’s interesting and engaging, no matter how long it is. For what it’s worth, my longest newsletter (2,100 words) has three times as many views on Substack as my shortest (1,300 words). I’ll also read a newsletter if I get something out of it, like a free template or a research report. I won’t read a newsletter if it’s poorly written or boring or self-promotional (which usually goes hand-in-hand with boring), even if it’s short and gorgeously designed.
for example…
I put together a list of some of my favorite org newsletters. Because each of them is written from the starting point of what the reader would find worthwhile, they come off as riveting reads rather than spammy self-promotion.
Emotional Support Animal Registration of America newsletter
This newsletter is ugly. In fact, it looks like it might have been designed in a word processor twenty years ago. But its content is delightful. It offers pet treat recipes, lists of pet-friendly hotels, and articles rating the cutest dogs. And this video of dogs riding a puppy bus is pure sunshine. I’ve been a subscriber for five years, and enjoy reading this newsletter while my own formerly licensed ESA, a supercilious house rabbit named Soybean, stares at me coldly and tramples on my heart. This newsletter leans on the short side, employing a lot of lists and bullet points, images, and embedded videos.
The Management Center newsletter
This newsletter is more up-to-date in design, but it’s not fancy. Doesn’t matter. Giveaways are the name of the game here. I’m usually skeptical when org newsletters promise giveaways, because usually the “giveaways” are just clutter. Nobody has time to read five generic tips that don’t offer any substantive help. But I love The Management Center newsletter because I can count on regularly getting tools that I can use immediately in my day-to-day work from these newsletters. In this issue on feedback alone, I get a 2x2 feedback protocol, prompts for guiding a difficult conversation with a colleague, and a feedback structure. All available in either google doc or Word Doc form! I’ve used all three.
A People Person, by the founder of ethena
A slick and well-designed newsletter, and written by a friend, but I’d read it even if it wasn’t. I’m really hammering home a point here! It runs quite long, but I read it faithfully to the end because it is reliably a well-written first-person narrative. It’s always got a personal story arc. It’s got a distinct and charming voice, a unique combination of dry humor and vulnerability. I also read it because usually it ends up making me think about application to my own life as a woman entrepreneur. It’s worth taking the time to peruse the archive, if you’re interested in taking a founder-authored approach to your newsletter. Start with this issue, which debunks all the commonplace BORING platitudes and self-promotional new year’s tidings of usual January newsletters.
The Screenshot, by JUV Consulting
The hippest design of the lot, with catchy subheadings and titles. If you read my post “Hopecore, normcore, corecore,” you’ll already know that I’m a huge fan of this newsletter from a marketing firm founded by three sixteen-year-olds in 2016. I read it faithfully because I learn a lot about how “the youth” are talking and what they are thinking about. And as someone who often works with youth, I like to keep somewhat in the loop. Among other things, I’ve learned new acronyms (iykyk, tl;dr, wyd), vocabulary (hopecore, corecore, nichecore), cultural allusions (gymtok, boygenius, scrumdilly yum yum), and some of the debates that GenZ are having about college.
long story short…
These org newsletters run the gamut in scope and length and style, but they all are on the mark in that they offer me something that I find worthwhile to read during a busy workday: some warm and fuzzies, a practical supervision tool, an intimate peek into the life of a woman entrepreneur, or real insights into a demographic with which I work.
