Let Them Leave

Every unsubscribe feels like a small verdict.

Someone read enough to decide they'd heard enough.

There's usually no note.

Just a number that went down by one, and a quiet urge to write something softer next time so it doesn't happen again.

That urge is worth resisting.

A list isn't more valuable because it's bigger.

It's more valuable because the people on it want what's being sent.

Someone who stays subscribed and never reads isn't an audience.

They're a line in a spreadsheet that drags the open rate down and makes the list look healthier than it is.

When they leave, the list gets smaller and more honest at the same time.

It helps to look at when people leave, not just that they do.

A few after every email is normal.

A cluster after one particular email is information.

Was it the subject line? The pitch? A change in tone?

That's worth a look.

But if the email said something true and useful and a handful of people decided it wasn't for them, that's the email working.

It sorted.

The thing to avoid is writing to hold on to the people who were going to leave anyway.

That's how a clear voice turns careful and bland, aimed at everyone and landing with no one.

The readers who wanted the original version notice, even if they never say so.

Some people are going to walk out.

Hold the door.

Don't chase them down the street.

The ones who stay chose to.

And that's what matters.