Issue 40: What an Unsubscribe Taught Me

Dear reader,

Every unsubscribe is a small door closing somewhere in the building. Mostly you don't hear it. The little counter goes down by one, you tell yourself people's lives change, and you get on with the week.

Last Tuesday the door closed and the person left a note. The form offers an optional box for a reason, and almost nobody fills it in. This reader did. I'll paraphrase, because they didn't give permission to be quoted: they had enjoyed the letter for a long time, but lately every issue seemed to end with me being modest about my own advice, and they'd begun to feel they were reading apologies rather than ideas.

The sting

I'm going to be honest, since that's the whole point of this letter. My first reaction was defensive. I drafted a reply, in my head, explaining what the modesty was for. I was rather good, in that reply. Persuasive, even. I got as far as imagining the reader changing their mind.

Then I reopened the last six issues and read their endings in a row. It's true. Five of the six close on some variation of "but what do I know" or "take this with salt". I hadn't noticed because I wrote each one on a different day, in a different mood, and each time the line felt like a harmless kindness.

What I think was happening

Hedging is a way of staying safe. If I tell you something and then step back from it, nobody can say I was wrong. But the cost is that you never quite learn what I think. A letter that keeps retreating from its own point isn't humble. It's evasive in a polite coat.

I'd mistaken one for the other for the better part of a year.

What I'm changing

Nothing dramatic. For the next few issues I'll finish on the actual last thought, not on the apology. If I'm unsure, I'll say what I'm unsure about, which is different and more useful. Let me know if the letters feel sharper or just more annoying.

The part I find most interesting

That person will never read this. They've gone. And still they did me a better service than the dozen replies telling me the letter was lovely. Praise tells you what's working. A quiet exit with a reason tells you what's hiding.

I've started wishing for more of them. Not unsubscribes exactly, but the honesty that sometimes comes with one. So if you're ever about to leave, and you have a spare minute, tell me why. I'll take it better than you'd think, once the sting wears off.

Yours, Hollis

P.S. Next Friday is Issue 41, which turns out to be a good moment to talk about finishing things.