Someone Told Me I Write Too Much. They Unsubscribed. And I’m Weirdly Fine with It.

You don’t have to be everyone’s cup of tea. But you DO need people in your corner.

I got an email this week.

It wasn’t mean, exactly. It was more passive-aggressively constructive.

You know the tone. The one where someone says something critical but adds a smiley face at the end so technically it’s friendly.

It said, and I’m paraphrasing: “You send too much. Twice a week is too many things. I’m unsubscribing.”

Ok.

I’d love to tell you I read that email, shrugged, and went about my day like a totally well-adjusted adult who doesn’t need external validation to feel OK about his life choices.

I did not do that.

What I actually did was stare at it for about 45 seconds, feel a tiny knot form in my stomach, and then immediately start mentally drafting a version of next week’s blog that was shorter, less frequent, and more palatable.

For about 90 seconds, one person’s email almost rewired and dictated my entire content strategy.

One person. Out of thousands.

And then I remembered something that both my therapist reminds me, and what I tell every single nonprofit professional I work with:

You are not for everyone. And that is a superpower, not a flaw.

Here’s what I know about you, because I know you do this. And because we’re the same kinda person:

You can get 98 positive emails, 12 social media comments saying “PREACH” or “This!”, three phone calls from EDs saying your blog changed how they run their board meetings, and one – JUST FREAKING ONE - person who says “this isn’t for me” and guess which voice lives rent-free in your head for the rest of the week?

The one.

It’s always the one.

And this isn’t just a guy-creating-fundraising-content problem. This is a fundraiser problem. This is an ED problem. This is a nonprofit leader problem.

The one board member who rolls their eyes at your idea. The one donor who doesn’t renew.

The one event attendee who complained about the temperature in the ballroom that not even the most technically sound HVAC professional could every fix without demolishing the building and starting over.

The one comment on your Giving Day post that says “why should I give to you when there are so many other needs?”

The random anonymous person on a survey you send to the community who gives you a “1” out of 10 because they were having a bad day, and were hell bent on making everyone else’s life as miserable as they were typing furiously on the computer.

One voice can drown out a chorus if you let it. And most of us?

We let it.

You Are Not Everyone’s Cup of Tea (and Thank God for That)

I need to write something out loud to you that I also needed to hear out lout this week:

If everyone likes your content, your message, or your approach, you’re not saying anything interesting.

The blogs that get the most replies, the most forwards, the most “holy crap this is so us” responses? Those are also the ones that occasionally make someone hit unsubscribe.

Because they’re specific. They’re pointed. And oh boy, they have an opinion.

And opinions (even though like certain parts of the human body that everyone has), aren’t for everyone.

Your fundraising works the same way.

If you try to be everything to every donor, you end up being nothing to all of them.

If your annual appeal is so generic that literally no one could object to it, it’s also so generic that no one feels moved to give.

The organizations that raise the most money aren’t the ones that offend no one. They’re the ones that connect deeply with their people - and accept that “their people” isn’t “all people.”

Same goes for you, your brand, your voice, and your Tuesday morning emails that apparently come too frequently for some people’s taste.

That person unsubscribed. And dozens of people replied with their own struggles or celebrations of what good they did?

I know who I’m writing for.

Why This Hits So Hard When You’re Alone

Here’s the part I’m going to push all my poker chips in on.

That email wouldn’t have bothered me AT ALL if I’d read it while sitting in a room with colleagues who get it.

If I’d been at a nonprofit consultant conference, or in a Slack group with other consultants, or at a table with other nonprofit nerds, I would have read it out loud and we would have laughed about it and moved on.

But I read it alone.

At my desk.

On a Saturday morning no less. In the quiet.

And in the quiet, one voice gets LOUD.

This is why isolation is the most dangerous thing in our sector.

Not the economy. Not the grant freeze. Not the disengaged board. Isolation.

When you’re the only development person on staff, there’s nobody to say “that’s one email, let it go.” When you’re the only person at your org who thinks about fundraising, there’s nobody to say “you’re doing the right thing, keep going.” When you get the critical email, the lost donor, the bad board meeting - there’s seemingly nobody in your corner.

And without that corner? You start believing the one voice. You start softening your message. You start playing it safe. You start becoming bland.

There’s actually research on this: you’re 60% more likely to achieve your goals when you have a peer group supporting you. Sixty percent. That’s not motivation. That’s math. And science. It’s math science.

So What Do You Actually Do About It?

Here are three things you can do this week to stop letting the one voice win and start building the corner you need.

1.     Join Something (Anything) Where People Get It

Your state nonprofit association. A local nonprofit coalition. A professional development group. A Rotary club with nonprofit leaders. An online community of fundraisers. A group text with three other EDs who are in the same fight.

I don’t care what it is. I care that you’re not doing this alone.

Because here’s what happens when you join a group of peers: the first time someone says “oh my God, our board does that too,” your entire nervous system relaxes.

You’re not broken. You’re not bad at this. You’re just in a hard job that most people don’t understand, and you need to be around people who do.

That’s not a luxury. That’s professional survival.

2.     Stop Measuring the Wrong Things

Unsubscribes are a vanity metric. Open rates are a vanity metric. Social media followers are a vanity metric.

You know what’s not a vanity metric? The donor who renewed because you called them on a Friday. The board member who made an introduction because you took them to coffee. The annual appeal that raised 20% more because you actually rewrote it.

Impact is the metric.

Relationships are the metric.

Everything else is just noise that makes you feel good or bad for no reason.

The person who unsubscribed was never going to become a client. They were never going to join DGYOU. They were never going to implement a single thing from these blogs. They were going to scroll, scan, and eventually leave.

And now they have. And nothing changed.

Literally nothing changed

But the folks who did respond? Some of them are going to join. Some of them are going to call me. Some of them are going to change how they run their organization because of something they read on a Tuesday morning.

Those are my people. That’s the metric.

Know who your people are. Write for them. Fundraise for them. Measure THEIR engagement.

Let the rest go.

3.     Get Out of Your Head and Into a Room (or a Community)

We talked about this a few weeks ago - the hallway is where the real work happens. But the hallway is also where the healing happens.

The critical email heals in a hallway. The lost donor heals over coffee with a colleague. The board meeting from hell heals at a happy hour with someone who’s been through the same thing.

You cannot process this job alone. You were not meant to carry it by yourself.

And I’m not just saying this because I’m about to pitch you something.

I’m saying this because I watched myself almost change my entire approach based on one email from one person, and the ONLY reason I didn’t is because I have people in my life who reminded me who I am and who I’m writing for.

If you don’t have that - if you’re reading this alone at your desk on a Tuesday and the one voice is loud – well, you need a place.

And Yes, This Is Where DGYOU Comes In

I’m not going to be subtle about this. You know me better than that by now.

Do Good YOUniversity is not just pathways and blueprints and trainings. It’s a community. A room full of fundraisers who get it. Who’ve gotten the unsubscribe email. Who’ve lost the donor. Who’ve sat in the bad board meeting. Who’ve worn 10,000 hats and wondered if anyone notices.

They notice. Because they’re in the same fight.

This is the hallway conversation that doesn’t end when the conference does. This is the peer group that makes you 60% more likely to actually implement the things you already know you should be doing. This is the corner that every solo-shop fundraiser deserves but almost nobody has.

Doors open June 1st. And I want you in - not just for the blueprints, but for the people.

And these people are awesome.

Ok! Your Turn!

Tell me:

When’s the last time one voice almost made you change course? And who (or what) pulled you back?

Maybe you’ve got a peer group that saves your sanity. Tell me about it - I’ll share it (with permission of course!) because someone reading this needs to know it’s possible.

Maybe you’re the one sitting alone at the desk right now and the one voice is winning. That’s OK. Name it. Hit reply. I’m right here.

Send me your answer: patrick@dogoodbetterconsulting.com

Reply EARLY ACCESS to be first through the door June 1st.

Reply TELL ME MORE to get the full breakdown before launch.

Together, we’ve freaking got this.

-Patrick

P.S. To the person (hell, people! It’s really not just one) who unsubscribed: no hard feelings. Genuinely. I hope you find what you’re looking for. To everyone still here: you’re my people. And I’m just getting started. June 1st. Let’s go.