Barely Holding It Together? Good. You Might Be Closer to List-Building Success Than You Think.
There’s this strange moment, maybe you’ve felt it, where you look around at all the “gurus” screaming about 10K lists in 30 days and think:
“Am I the only one crawling while everyone else is sprinting?”
It’s not a fun feeling. Kind of like walking into a party late, with mismatched socks and a half-buttoned shirt, while everyone else looks like they were born camera-ready.
That’s how I felt trying to build an email list. Everyone had multi-layered funnels, smart automations, branded gifs in their emails. I had… a Google Doc. That I forgot to format.
But somewhere, between the comparison hangovers and the mental spreadsheet spirals, I realized something ridiculous:
Maybe the bare minimum is all I ever really needed.
Not as a cop-out. Not as some rebel strategy. But because the truth is, my brain? It’s tired. My energy? Leaks faster than my phone battery on low-power mode. And still, I wanted a list that worked.
So I stopped aiming for empire.
And started building… a lemonade stand. One with crooked signs. But real people still showed up.
Here’s how that looked.
1. One Magnet. One Message. One Lane.
I don’t even know where my old Canva lead magnets went. I think one had a forest background for some reason? Anyway. They’re gone now.
Now, it’s one PDF. Super specific. Not beautiful. But it works. It’s titled something painfully direct, “7 Subject Lines That Got Me Replies” or something equally unsexy.
But here’s the thing: it converts. Not at 80%. I’m not a sorcerer. But a clean 42%? I’ll take that over burnout.
I send people there every time I post. I’ve used the same link for like… 9 months. No A/B split-testing nonsense. Just a link and a purpose.
2. My Landing Page is Boring. Like, Purposefully.
It has one font. Arial, probably. Or whatever font ConvertKit defaults to. The button is blue, I think.
But you know what? It loads fast. It makes a promise. It doesn’t confuse people with 17 different CTAs or a parallax background of my face faded into a sunset.
People don’t need to be impressed. They just need to not be overwhelmed.
Design fatigue is real. Keep it boring. Keep it honest. They’ll thank you later, if not with their words, then with their inbox.
3. A Welcome Sequence That Doesn’t Pretend We’re Best Friends
Once, I wrote a 14-part email series. Fourteen. And I somehow still managed to say nothing.
Now I send four emails. They’re like little awkward handshakes.
Email 1: Here’s your thing.
Email 2: Here’s why I made it.
Email 3: Here’s what most people mess up.
Email 4: Here’s what I can help with, if you’re into that.
That’s it. No name-dropping. No fake urgency. No “secret frameworks.”
Just… me, typing like I talk. Some jokes hit. Some don’t. It’s okay. People reply. Real ones. They use phrases like “this felt grounded” or “thanks for not shouting at me.” That’s the bar now. And I love it.
4. I Picked One Traffic Channel and Gave It a Fighting Chance
Oh god. The whiplash of trying to be everywhere. Twitter thread one day, TikTok the next, then trying to figure out why Pinterest hates me.
Now? I’m weirdly obsessed with LinkedIn. I know. It’s not sexy. But it’s… linear. And people read. Like actually read.
I show up three times a week. Sometimes I skip a day. I post thoughts that don’t go viral, but they don’t rot either. They linger.
And guess what? They click. They opt in. No dancing. No captions synced to beats. Just words. Imperfect ones.
Sometimes, I end a post mid-thought.
Like this.
5. I Let People Go. With Grace.
Unsubscribes used to feel like heartbreak. Like someone ghosting me after a third date. “Was it something I said?” “Should I use more emojis?”
Now, I delete them from my head as quickly as they delete themselves from my list.
Because if you build something honest and slow, people who stick? They want to be there.
It’s kind of like hosting a dinner party and only the chill guests stay after dessert. They’re the ones you can talk to barefoot, no filter, wine stains and all.
So Does This “Bare Minimum” Stuff Actually Work?
Short answer? Yes.
Long answer? It depends on what “work” means to you.
If you mean will it get you 5,000 subscribers in 5 weeks? Nope. But if you mean will it get you 15–30 engaged, curious, real people every week? Yeah. Steady as a heartbeat.
And those people? They open. They reply. Some even send money.
You don’t need a viral moment. You need a repeatable moment.
This system, if we can even call it that, isn’t fancy. But it shows up even when I don’t feel like I can. It’s patient. And it keeps going when I take a break. Which is the entire point.
The Glorious, Messy Conclusion (That Isn’t Really a Conclusion)
We think the goal is to win.
But more often? The goal is to not quit.
That’s it. Keep the light on. Keep the link working. Keep writing when your voice feels shaky. Keep building when the foundation’s only half-poured. Keep sending even if only 41 people open the thing.
One day, 73 people will open it. Then 107. Then maybe, you’ll forget what the number was and realize: it never mattered as much as you thought.
It’s okay to do less.
Let others chase the algorithm. You? You’re building a list that will last longer than the trend cycle.
Like a weird, loyal plant that grows sideways but never dies.
That’s something.
Want help turning this philosophy into a simple setup that doesn’t devour your sanity? Let me know. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll still be here. Quietly doing the bare minimum. And getting just enough results to keep going.
Because sometimes? Enough is better than perfect.
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