(The sound of a kettle screaming, then being yanked off the burner. The familiar, angry sigh. A stool scrapes across the floor.)
Alright. Let’s talk about the most unsexy, terrifying, essential piece of all this.
You’re making your art. You’re following the advice. You’re on the platforms, you’re doing the dance, you’re finding your little corners. And it’s working. Kinda. You get a little hit of dopamine when you get a notification. A like, a comment, a share. It feels like something is happening.
Then one Tuesday, you wake up and the platform you’ve poured your soul into for two years… has changed. The algorithm has flipped. A new button. A new policy. Your reach, that little trickle of connection, dries up overnight. You are now shouting into a brick wall that you helped build, on land owned by a billionaire who thinks your existential paintings about moss would be better as a dance trend.
It feels like a betrayal. Because it is. You’ve been building on rented land.
Social media is a fantastic party. Email marketing? That’s your house. You own the deed. You make the rules. No one can turn off the lights, change the music, or kick out your guests. If the internet collapses and we’re all back on ham radios, you’ll still have your list of addresses. It’s the one piece of digital real estate that is truly, irrevocably yours.
And I know what you’re thinking. “Email? Andy, that’s for coupons and spam and annoying newsletters from my uncle about politics. It’s a dead zone. A graveyard of unread promotions.” I get it. I resisted it for years. It felt corporate. Grovelly. Like standing on a digital street corner with a megaphone shouting “DEALS!”
But that’s not what it is. Not if you do it right. For an author, an artist, a creator, it is the single most powerful tool you have. It’s not marketing. It’s a direct line into the quiet room of someone’s life. It’s a tap on the shoulder, not a scream in the plaza.
Think about it. On Instagram, you’re competing with someone’s baby photos, their vacation, their political rant, and a video of a sloth eating a cucumber. In an inbox, you’re competing with… work memos, bills, and other newsletters. The competition is less fierce. The attention, when given, is more focused. More intimate.
This isn’t about selling. This is about inviting people into the process. It’s about building a sanctuary for your most invested fans. It’s the difference between a tourist snapping a photo of your mural and someone who buys a print, hangs it in their living room, and lives with it every day.
So, how the hell do you do this without feeling like a car salesman or a machine? Let’s break it down, with the cynicism dial turned to 7, but the practical hope dial cranked to 10.
PART 1: THE WHY – THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE INBOX (Or, Getting Over Yourself)
1. Permission is Everything.
This is the crucial, beautiful difference. On social media, you’re imposing. You’re showing up in someone’s feed, unasked for, thanks to an algorithm. An email subscriber? They raised their hand. They said, “Yes, I want to hear from you. Come into my sacred digital space and talk to me.” That’s a sacred trust. It’s not an audience; it’s a tribe of volunteers.
2. The “So What?” Finds Its Home.
Remember that “So what?” we talked about? Email is where it lives. Your art isn’t just a product; it’s a consistent experience. Your newsletter is the ongoing subscription to your creative brain. The “so what” is: “I will regularly give you a moment of beauty, a spark of an idea, a behind-the-scenes look that you can’t get anywhere else.”
3. You Own the Relationship.
Mark Zuckerberg does not get to stand between you and the person who loves your ceramic goblins. Elon Musk doesn’t get to throttle your reach to the people who wait for your next chapter. You hit “send,” and it goes. It’s the closest thing we have to digital sovereignty.
PART 2: THE HOW – BUILDING YOUR HOUSE, BRICK BY BRICK
Okay, you’re convinced, or at least morbidly curious. Here’s the step-by-step, from a guy who started with a list of 12 people (all relatives).
Step 1: Choose Your Tools (The Foundation)
Don’t overthink this. You need an Email Service Provider (ESP). This is not your Gmail. This is Mailchimp, ConvertKit, Substack, Beehiiv. They handle the ugly stuff: sending, unsubscribes, spam laws.
- For the absolute beginner, terrified of tech: Start with Substack. It’s built for writers. It’s a blog and newsletter in one. Super simple. The culture is “reader-first.”
- For the artist/creator who wants more control and automation: ConvertKit is the darling of creators for a reason. It’s visual, intuitive, and built for selling digital products. Their free plan is very generous.
- The old standby: Mailchimp is fine. It can feel clunky, but it works. It’s like the Honda Civic of ESPs.
Pick one. Sign up. Spend 30 minutes poking around. That’s it.
Step 2: The Bribe – Your “Lead Magnet” (The Welcome Mat)
You can’t just have a sign-up form that says “Subscribe to my newsletter!” People are stingy with their inboxes. You need to offer a clear, valuable trade. This is your “lead magnet.” It should be irresistible to your specific Brenda.
- For Authors:
- A short story set in your novel’s world.
- A deleted chapter.
- A character backstory PDF.
- A curated list of “Books that inspired my writing.”
- For Artists:
- A high-resolution desktop wallpaper pack of your art.
- A time-lapse video of your process.
- A digital coloring page based on your work.
- A PDF guide: “My 5 Favorite Cheap Art Supplies.”
- For Podcasters/Musicians:
- A secret, unreleased demo track.
- A PDF of show notes/links from an episode.
- A curated playlist of your influences.
Make this thing. Make it good. This is your handshake. Your first impression. Give real value away for free.
Step 3: The Sign-Up Form – The Front Door
Put this EVERYWHERE.
- Link in Bio: The single most important place. “Get a free short story” with a link.
- Your Website: In the header, footer, sidebar, on a dedicated “Newsletter” page.
- Social Media: Mention it regularly in your posts and stories. “The deeper dive on this painting is in my newsletter this week.”
- At the back of your book: “Liked this? Get a free prequel story by signing up here.”
- In your Instagram “About” section.
- At live events: Have a physical notebook or an iPad for sign-ups. Offer a QR code.
Step 4: The First Date – The Welcome Email
This is automated. Someone signs up, they get your free thing IMMEDIATELY, plus a short, warm email from you.
- Subject Line: “Thanks! Here’s your [Free Thing]” or “Welcome to the studio…”
- Body: Be human. “Hi [Name], thanks so much for signing up. It means a lot. Here’s the link to download your [Free Thing]. I usually send an email every [Tuesday] with [what they can expect: behind-the-scenes, new work, interesting links]. Really glad you’re here. – [Your Name]”
Set this up in your ESP. It’s like setting a trap for goodwill. It works.
PART 3: THE WHAT – WHAT THE HELL DO YOU SEND THEM?
This is the panic point. You have a list. Now what? You don’t want to annoy them. The key is to be a person, not a corporation. Imagine you’re writing to a friend who’s interested in your work.
The Golden Rule: Provide Value First, Sell Last (or Almost Never).
A good ratio is 90% value, 10% “ask.” Your “ask” can be soft: “I’d love you to check this out,” not “BUY NOW!”
Types of Emails You Can Send:
- The “Behind the Scaffolding” Email: This is your bread and butter.
- “Here’s the messy sketch that led to the final painting.”
- “I cut this whole subplot from Chapter 4. Here’s why it hurt.”
- “A photo of my desk right now (it’s a disaster).”
- “The three songs I looped while painting this.”
- The “Curator” Email: Share other people’s work you love.
- “Here’s an amazing article I read about color theory.”
- “A book I just finished that blew my mind.”
- “An artist you’ve probably never heard of who inspires me.”
This builds trust. You’re not just a vending machine for your own stuff; you’re a guide.
- The “Ask Me Anything” / Question Email:
- “I’m stuck on naming this character. Option A or B?”
- “What’s a topic you’d love me to paint next?”
- Polls are great for engagement. It makes them co-creators.
- The “Personal Story” Email: Connect the work to your life.
- “This painting was inspired by the weird, gnarled tree I see on my morning walk.”
- “Writing this villain made me think about my own childhood grudges. It got weird.”
- Be vulnerable, but not therapy-level oversharing. Relatable, not traumatic.
- The “Launch” Email (The 10%):
When you have something new—a book, a print drop, a course—your list is your first stop.- Don’t just blast “IT’S LIVE!” Tease it. Tell the story behind it.
- Email 1: “I’ve been secretly working on something for 6 months…”
- Email 2: “Here’s the cover/the first look…”
- Email 3: “It’s out. Here’s why I’m so proud of it, and a special thank-you link for you, my inner circle.”
This feels like an exclusive invitation, not an advertisement.
Formatting Tips for the Visually Weary:
- Keep it short. Walls of text are intimidating. Use paragraphs. White space is your friend.
- Use a clear, bold headline at the top to tell them what this email is.
- Images are good. One or two relevant photos of your work or process.
- Your voice. Write like you talk. Use contractions. Make jokes. Let your personality bleed through. This is your greatest asset.
PART 4: THE GRIND – THE UNSEXY REALITIES
1. Consistency Over Frequency.
It’s better to send one great email a month, like clockwork, than four rushed ones that feel like chores. Pick a schedule. “First Tuesday of the month.” Stick to it. Your list will learn to expect it, maybe even look forward to it.
2. The Subject Line is the Moat.
This is what gets the email opened. Be intriguing, not clickbaity.
- Bad: “Newsletter #45”
- Good: “The painting that almost broke me,” “A weird thing I learned about 14th-century ink,” “Turns out, my character was right.”
- Use their name sparingly. It can feel creepy.
3. The Scariest Button: “Unsubscribe.”
People will leave. It will hurt your feelings. Get over it. It’s not a rejection of you; it’s a curation of their inbox. A clean list of 500 people who care is better than 5000 who forgot who you are. Make the unsubscribe link clear. It’s good manners.
4. Track, But Don’t Obsess.
Your ESP will give you stats: open rates, click rates. Look at them occasionally. Did a subject line with a question get more opens? Did people click on the personal story link more than the product link? Learn. Adjust. But don’t stare at the numbers after every send. It’ll drive you mad.
(A long pause. The sound of a laptop closing, not with a slam, but a definitive click.)
Here’s the truth they don’t tell you: Building an email list is profoundly validating.
When you see that list grow, one name at a time, from a stranger in a country you’ve never visited… it’s a concrete, tangible signal that your work matters. It’s not a like, it’s a commitment. It’s someone giving you a tiny, precious piece of their attention, the most valuable commodity in the world.
It turns the scream into a conversation. The monologue into a dialogue. It’s the antidote to the loneliness of creation.
So start. Today. Go to ConvertKit or Substack. Make your free thing. Put a sign-up form on your Instagram. Send your first email to the five people on your list (hello, Mom).
Build your house, one brick, one subscriber at a time. Because when the next digital party gets shut down, or the algorithm flips again, you’ll be sitting in your own warm, well-lit home, talking directly to the people who matter most.
And you won’t have to pay rent to a billionaire to do it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go write an email to my list about the profound anxiety of choosing a new brand of coffee. It’s gonna be a thriller.
(The mic picks up the faint, determined tapping of a keyboard beginning.)
If you found this useful, then you might be interested in my book “Digital Marketing for Creatives” – it’s over on Amazon and its aim is to get creatives marketing effectively so they can spend more time making that creative thing they make and not losing hours doing marketing. You can find it here.
You can also subscribe to this blog and get notified everytime I post. Zero spam, guaranteed.
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