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The Things You Have to Do to Get There.

There are a few different ways to become a PGA Tour member, but the most direct is by being one of the top players on the Korn Ferry Tour, which is the top minor league circuit for men’s professional golfers. Just making it to the Korn Ferry Tour itself is hard enough — it requires first going through a series of qualifying tournaments, and then life on the Korn Ferry is a grind. While the PGA Tour offers massive checks, the Korn Ferry’s prize money is relatively paltry. (The player who finished in third place in yesterday’s PGA Tour event won $885,000; the prize money for the entire field at last weekend’s Korn Ferry event was $850,000.) But to get to the PGA Tour, you have to go through the Korn Ferry Tour, so those with dreams of playing on the big tour have to go through the minors first.

And yesterday, the PGA Tour announced the 25 golfers who played well enough during this Korn Ferry Tour to qualify for PGA Tour’s upcoming season. I was reading through their bios and found myself amazed by some of their stories.

Among the qualifiers are Paul Haley II, who qualified for the PGA Tour back in 2012 but played poorly in his one season on Tour. He spent a decade bouncing around the minor leagues of golf, but will be back after a strong season on the Korn Ferry. “Maybe if you were younger, you stress out about really small things and when you play bad, it seems like the world is coming to an end,” he told a PGA Tour reporter. “You’re not going to have your best stuff every week. You’re going to miss the cut. You’re going to shoot over par. But just taking that step back and realizing everything is still pretty good.” This time, he’ll aim to stick around on the top circuit in golf.

There’s Ben Griffin, who quit golf and was working as a mortgage loan officer — until his grandfather died, and Griffin decided to give golf one last shot. (A line in his grandpa’s obit: “His motto was ‘Hit them long and straight,’ having loved golf.”) A year later, Ben qualified for the PGA Tour.

There’s Erik Barnes, who had to take a job stocking shelves at a grocery store during the pandemic (base pay: $17/hour) to make ends meet when the Korn Ferry Tour went on hiatus during the early part of the pandemic. He’s 34 years old, but after more than a decade as a pro golfer, he’ll finally make it to the PGA Tour.

And there’s Kevin Roy, who once missed the cut in five straight events, which meant that he went more than a month without collecting a paycheck. Scrolling through Instagram one day, he saw a hat with the words “Have More Fun” and bought it. While other golfers wore hats with sponsor logos on it, he wore his “Have More Fun” hat as he turned his season around and qualified for the Tour. He’s 32 and will be a PGA Tour rookie.

It’s remarkable the things that people will do to achieve their dreams — the sacrifices they’ll make, the work they’ll put in, the challenges they’ll overcome. Even people at the top of their field struggle. But sometimes, reading stories like these reminds me that it’s possible to reach the top of your field — even if it takes a little bit longer than you expected.

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At the top, that’s a video of the 25 Korn Ferry Tour members who officially qualified for next year’s PGA Tour.

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The One Thing I Really Hope People Learn from Not a Newsletter.

Here's a recent screenshot from Not a Newsletter

Not a Newsletter will turn four in January. It started as a weird little side project; now it’s the single most important driver of business for Inbox Collective. Over the years, I’ve written more than 175,000 words for the Google Doc, built an audience of 8,000+ monthly readers, and stretched the Google-Doc-as-publishing format about as far as any one person can.

I can confidently say this: Google Docs aren’t meant for publishing. I get no data from them, they don’t show up in search (even though it’s a Google product!), and they don’t work well on mobile. This format has worked for me, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a publishing platform to anyone else.

But if there’s one lesson I hope people take away from my experience publishing the Google Doc, it’s this: Whenever you can, start small.

The Google Doc was one of the best minimum viable products I’ve ever created. It was small enough for me to quickly prove out the concept and the audience need; it was flexible enough that I could build a half-decent product from Day 1. I didn’t spend a dollar to launch this project, but still could create something that attracted an audience.

I never expected to turn Google Docs into a long-term publishing platform. (That being said, I’m probably stuck with the Google Doc format for as long as I write Not a Newsletter. It’s part of my personal brand now — I’m “the guy with the Google Doc”!) But I hope others learn from the strategy if they’re thinking of launching something new. Start small, start simply, start quickly — and see if you can prove out your concept. If it works, great. Upgrade your tech, invest in the project, and keep it moving forward.

And if not? Move on. There are always going to be other ideas for you to explore.

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That’s a screenshot of a recent Not a Newsletter. If you’re not on the email list, sign up here.

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Go Big.

Paul Simon plays to the crowd at Newport Folk Festival in 2022

One more story from Newport Folk:

We’d been told that at Newport, special guests sometimes show up. And then on Saturday night, Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats came out and played two Paul Simon songs in a row, and we realized: Paul Simon might be tonight’s surprise guest!

An hour later, after a half-dozen artists had played Simon’s music, Paul himself came out and played five songs with the band.

So we weren’t expecting much on Sunday night. How are you going to top a special guest appearance by Paul Simon? Brandi Carlile was expected to play with some friends. (The set was billed as “Brandi Carlile & Friends,” which made that a fair assumption.) We figured she’d bring out the usual group of indie musicians and colleagues. We didn’t realize one of them would be Joni Mitchell! And that a group of musicians would sit around in a circle and play for — and with — her.

What I loved wasn’t just that Newport brought out two icons. It’s that they found new ways to honor them. They’d clearly asked: How do we pay tribute to these legends? What formats can we try? How do we do something that’s never been done in the history of this festival?

Had a group of musicians played a tribute to Paul Simon, that would’ve been something. Had Brandi Carlile played “Blue” from start to finish, that would’ve been amazing. But instead, they somehow did something even more unexpected.

If you’re going to go big, go big.

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That was my view of the stage for Paul Simon’s set. Paul’s up there if you zoom in far enough.

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Everything Changes, and That’s OK. (Part II)

That's a photo I took of The Linda Lindas on stage at Newport Folk on July 24, 2022

57 years ago today, Bob Dylan went electric at the Newport Folk Festival. Reports say the crowd shouted and booed at Dylan — “Like a Rolling Stone” had been released only days earlier, and the crowd at Newport Folk wasn’t prepared for an artist suddenly heading in a new direction.

Yesterday, I went to Newport Folk, and saw an all-girl teenage punk rock band, The Linda Lindas, absolutely rock the festival. Newport Folk is more than folk now — there are acoustic acts, and bluegrass, and country, and even rap. Watching The Linda Lindas reminded me of how much even established brands like Newport Folk can change. The festival that was once synonymous with Dylan and Joan Baez and James Taylor is now the kind of place where a teenage rock quartet can show up and command a stage for an hour. I’d bet that there were more than a handful of people at the festival yesterday who had parents or grandparents at that Dylan show in 1965, and yesterday, those in attendance roared for a band that wouldn’t have fit in fifty years ago at that festival.

It’s OK that Newport’s changed. It’s OK that one of the original American music festivals can now host Joni Mitchell and The Roots on the same stage in the same afternoon. The spirit and mission of Newport remain the same, but the sounds coming off those stages are as different as ever.

And not everything changes. At one point during yesterday’s show, one member of the The Linda Linda, guitarist Lucia de la Garza, pointed towards a voter registration tent just off stage. “Us kids can’t vote,” she said, “but you can!” Their sound didn’t sound like anything from the original version of Newport Folk, but at the moment, if you closed your eyes, their message sounded a lot to me like Newport in 1959.

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That’s a photo I took of The Linda Lindas on stage at Newport Folk. They’re amazing. If they come to your city, go see them!

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Everything Changes, and That’s OK.

people at work on a construction site

College athletics are in flux right now. Teams are changing conferences (Rutgers vs. UCLA and Oklahoma vs. Kentucky will soon be in-conference matchups), and Name, Image, and Likeness rules mean that some athletes are now (legally) collecting checks from sponsors. Greg Sankey, commissioner of the Southeastern Conference, addressed all these changes this week at the conference’s annual media days for football. “It’s never going to be the same,” he said, “but it doesn’t have to be the way that it is”

The same could be said for many businesses. It’s certainly the case for the news world, where I come from. Are we going back to the days when local newspapers employed hundreds of journalists? Probably not. But it’s up to us to build something new moving forward. Just this week, I’ve talked with local news outlets investing in solutions journalism, digital outlets building out new models for revenue sharing with writers, and individual writers who are building an entire business through their own newsletters or podcasts.

Everything changes, and that’s OK. We can fight it, or we can accept it and try to figure out how to build the best possible future for ourselves. The choice is ours.

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That photo of a construction site comes via Shivendu Shukla and Unsplash.

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Introducing… Inbox Collective’s New Website.

That's what the new website looks like

One of the great lessons from BuzzFeed was to launch stuff quickly. Put it out there in the world, try to build an audience, and then decide what to do next. The simpler and faster, the better!

It’s why when I launched a website for Inbox Collective in 2019, it wasn’t a website — it was a set of Google Slides. Put it out there, see what happens, then figure out what’s next. If you have enough to start, then start.

Over the past three years, what’s happened is that the business has grown and grown. And it’s become obvious to me that I didn’t just need a better website to explain how I consult with brands. I needed a place to share more stories to further serve the email community.

So here we are: Inbox Collective is officially a real website. We’ll be publishing a few times per month, with case studies, how-tos, feature stories, and more. You can check it all out here.

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A Story About the Time I Interviewed for a Job at The New Yorker.

a photo of a rainbow, as seen from The New Yorker offices

In the summer of 2017, I interviewed for a job at The New Yorker. As part of the interview, I was asked to come in and interview with David Remnick, the editor of the magazine. And I’ll confess: I was nervous.

Not because I was meeting with David. (He was lovely, kind, and incredibly supportive.)

I was nervous because I’m scared of heights.

The New Yorker’s office are about a third of the way up in the World Trade Center. The view is spectacular from up there — 360-degree views of New York, from the harbor and Statue of Liberty all the way to Midtown. On any given day, you might have meetings looking out over New Jersey or Brooklyn or the Empire State Building. Over time, I got used to the idea of working in the sky.

But not on the day I interviewed with David. On that day, I was terrified.

I remember not knowing how to handle the situation when I walked in. David’s office had massive windows, with incredible views of the city. I decided to compliment him on the view as I walked in — it seemed like a harmless icebreaker. It seemed like a thing that someone who wasn’t terrified of heights would do.

Then he invited me over to the windows to look. (Naturally, he thought I’d mentioned it because I wanted to see it up close.) So I inched over to the edge of the room, all the while telling myself, “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.” I tried to remember to breathe. I reminded myself that if I fainted, I probably wouldn’t get the job. (Being unafraid of working in the building seemed like a prerequisite for the job.)

We sat down, and the giant windows were right behind him. I decided to do the one thing that would allow me to avoid looking at the windows and thinking about being 40 floors above New York City: I made eye contact — and never broke it for the hour or so we talked. 

In all the years I’ve been alive, I don’t believe I’ve ever made continuous eye contact the way I did that day. I probably should’ve been nervous about interviewing with the magazine, or meeting David, but I was so scared that I’d look over at the windows and panic that I couldn’t really think about it.

So I made eye contact, and we talked, and a few days later, I got the job.

What happens if I’m not scared of heights? Maybe I get distracted by the view and drift off, and seem like I’m not focused on the role. Maybe I get nervous about interviewing and come across as unprofessional. I have no idea what might have happened.

Because on that day, I was so nervous about being in a tall building, I accidentally had one of the best job interviews of my life.

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That’s a photo I took from The New Yorker offices in October 2018, after I’d gotten over my fear of working in the sky.

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Little Coincidences Are Everywhere.

Red Rocks, in Morrison, Colorad, on June 28

Two of the first people I told about Inbox Collective were my friends Dan and Ryan. I’ve known them since college — we lived on the same floor of the same dorm. We met our very first night at Mizzou. We’ve been close ever since, and they’ve been huge supporters of mine through work ups and downs over the years.

I remember telling them in Chicago three years ago — we’d met up and were en route to a Cubs game. They were surprised by the news, but also excited, and absolutely sure that I’d be able to build this business.

We met up this week in Denver to go to a concert together, and I was reminiscing about our memories of that Chicago visit. It felt like we’d all come a long way from that day.

And then I looked back at my calendar. I felt like I’d told them right before July 4th, so I looked on my calendar for the date when I’d told them the news.

It was exactly three years ago.

The universe is funny like that. Sometimes, by chance, you end up in the same places or with the same people on the same dates, and it feels a little like fate. You just need to keep your eyes open for those little coincidences. They’re everywhere, if you take the time to look for them.

Here’s to good friends, and to good things happening with friends on June 27th.

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That’s a photo of the rocks at Red Rocks, where we saw the show last night.

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We’re Going to Make It Better.

that's a screenshot of the new Inbox Collective site

The new inboxcollective.com will be launching soon. I’ll be the first to tell you: It’s not perfect. There’s a lot it doesn’t do that I want it to do. There’s a lot we still need to figure out around photography, art, and site navigation.

But it’s going to be enough to start. It’ll have interesting stories and sign-up boxes for the newsletter — the essential parts. It’ll have a page explaining how to work with Inbox Collective. It’ll be enough.

It’ll go live, and then we’ll make it better. That’s how projects like these work. You launch, you listen, and then you start working to improve things. 

There’s no need to wait until the site is perfect. If I wait for perfect, I might be waiting a long time. Good enough is good enough for now.

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That’s a screenshot of what the new site will look like.

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When Will You Get To Do This Again? (Part II)

That's a photo my friend, Ian, took at the show. Ian had better seats than we did.

A few months ago, I wrote about living in the moment. “Sometimes,” I wrote, “you’ve got to try something because, honestly, when are you going to get to do it again?”

Sunday was one of those days.

A few months ago, Paul McCartney announced that he was going on tour. One of the dates on a Sunday night in Baltimore. A few childhood friends texted me: Was I in for the show?

Sally and I were — but there was one complication. We’d be coming from a wedding in Connecticut, six states and 300 miles away. It’s a 6-hour drive in normal traffic, but on a summer weekend on I-95, six hours becomes 10 quickly.

We said yes anyway.

Was it a lot of driving? Yes. Did we somehow make it on time? Yes. Were we exhausted by the end of the night? Yes.

Was it worth it to see freaking Paul McCartney play a three-hour, 37-song set? Oh, absolutely.

Sometimes, you have to do something just because you might never get the chance to do it again.

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That’s a photo of Paul on stage in Baltimore. My buddy Ian took the photo. (We had pretty good seats, but Ian had amazing seats.)

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