You don’t need to know a thing about these two guitars to connect your audience to your newsletter.
The guitar on the far left is a blacked-out McPherson Sable Camo carbon fiber guitar with space age material inside. The one on the far right is a Lyle classical style guitar made partly from solid wood and partly from laminated wood, aka plywood.
The McPherson is engineered so it will never need a neck adjustment and will play in tune literally whether it is twenty below zero or baking in 105-degree heat. The Lyle needs retuning if you so much as eat hot salsa on your tacos for lunch.
The McPherson is 100 percent made in the USA in 2023. The Lyle was built in Japan back in 1971 (not exactly an era known for Japanese quality).
The McPherson, at the time of purchase, cost $3,902.45. The Lyle was given to me by my Aunt Sue when I was seventeen. New, it costs around $450. The Lyle is worth $175 to $200 in its current condition. You’ll see why.
Finally, the McPherson is a steel string guitar with an electronic pickup. The Lyle is a nylon string guitar. The only electric feature in it is the static generated by rubbing my socks on the carpet while playing, making me, officially, an electrifying guitar player.
As I said, these two guitars couldn’t be further apart, but as you’ll see, they illustrate three important points about connecting with your audience.
1. Perfection has nothing to do with connection.
Obviously, I play guitar, but I’m also a songwriter. The McPherson Sable is about as close to perfection as I could hope for in an all-purpose guitar.
The Lyle has a lot to be desired.
But this might surprise you. When writing songs that connect with an audience, the McPherson doesn’t have a single advantage over the old Lyle.
Not one.
Why?
Like a song, the authentic lyric or story inside it is what connects it to your audience, not the instrument. I have written equally meaningful, emotionally engaging songs on both guitars.
The same can be said for your newsletter.
What you’re reading now could have been written on an old Windows 3.1 computer with Microsoft Works or a 2025 super pixel gaming laptop with Office 365, and you wouldn’t know the difference.
In August of 2023, singer songwriter Oliver Anthony broke a record with his song Rich Men North of Richmond. It debuted at the top of the Billboard charts without any previously charted songs. He bumped Jason Aldean and Taylor Swift off the country and pop charts.
The world had never heard of Oliver before that day.
How did he make music history? With a simple acoustic guitar, an authentic message, and a country boy beard. The beard is optional.
It was the authentic voice and message, not perfection, which reached an audience like never before.
The point is, connecting with your audience comes down to the authentic voice you put inside your newsletter, not instruments of perfection.
Improving your professional credentials and adding more letters behind your name has its purpose. But when it comes to connecting with your audience, those letters offer almost no advantage. They don’t make you different from the next professional who also updated their credentials.
But your authenticity, being yourself and letting your audience know who you are, that matters. There’s only one of you in the world, no matter how many letters you use.
2. Consistency matters.
Both the McPherson and Lyle guitars have frets, strings, a sound hole, and a body. There are many similarities. But the Lyle has a much shorter and wider neck than the McPherson.
From experience, if I play the Lyle only occasionally, every time I pick it up my playing sounds clunky and awkward. I’m not confident.
The finger placement is different on a wider neck. The nylon strings feel looser and more slippery. The shorter neck also changes hand positioning.
If you write your newsletter only occasionally, with wide gaps between issues, it will feel awkward and clunky, too. Consistency produces familiarity, efficiency, and confidence. You’ll develop a system and become more comfortable with the process, much like learning the fretboard of the Lyle.
This doesn’t even account for your audience’s reaction to inconsistency. It affects their trust in you, their familiarity with your voice, and whether your newsletter becomes part of their routine or part of the trash.
When newsletters are published monthly, around the fifth or sixth month you may feel tempted to stop. Stay the course. Keep publishing. It will become part of your business routine.
3. The value is in the relationship.
We’ve seen several differences between these two guitars, and how they relate to your newsletter, but I’ve held something back.
The McPherson is new and in pristine condition. When I got the Lyle, super glue was smeared on the top from a homemade repair.
From the day I got it, it was nicknamed “The Scrub.” Over time, it lived up to its name.
I once lent it to someone. We will call him Steve to maintain anonymity, ignoring the name Mike that my wife and I gave him at birth.
In Steve’s “hey guys, watch this” years, he eventually abandoned the Scrub.
I picked it up off the gravel covered concrete floor of a storage unit in negative 20-degree temperatures.
It had three strings left, just enough tuning pegs to match, two holes in it, a chip in the sound hole, gouges in the back, and broken tuning knobs and pegs.
What did I do with it?
I had it restored.
I know, it should have been kindling for a backyard bonfire. But it was the relationship I had with this guitar that made me invest in it.
All those years learning Willie Nelson songs, playing Classical Gas, and simply spending time with it formed that relationship.
I valued the time I spent with it.
Your newsletter is the Lyle to your audience. Giving them valuable information, tips that help them, and a sense of connection.
Your audience will value spending time with it too.
The Big Picture.
The success of your newsletter is related to your authenticity, consistency, and value. It’s not about waiting for the perfect time to begin.
Just start, which is annoyingly stellar advice.
So, whether you’re working with a McPherson or something closer to The Scrub, it’s not the instrument. It’s what your audience sees you doing with it.