📧 AI For People Who Hate Writing Emails

Nobody hates email. Confirming a time takes nine seconds.

What people hate is five specific emails. The ones that sit in drafts generating dread out of all proportion to their length. The words are easy. The feelings are hard.

Connect Gmail first (two minutes)

1. Settings → Connectors, click the + in the header.
2. Find Gmail, click +, sign in and approve.
3. Desktop app not showing it? Quit and reopen.

Now Claude can find the email you’re dreading instead of making you paste it, read the thread, and draft the reply for you to send. You press send yourself, which is good practice anyway: nothing leaves your outbox that you haven’t read.

No connector? Every prompt works if you paste the email in instead.

1. The reply you’ve put off

Nick this one:

You're helping me answer an email I should have replied to weeks ago, without making the reply about my guilt.

Find it in my inbox: [e.g. "from Rachel at Hollis, about the March dates"]. If you can't see my email, ask me to paste it.
Roughly what I want to say: [bullet points are fine]
How late I am: [e.g. "three weeks, no excuse"]

Give me:
1. The reply. Acknowledge the delay ONCE, then answer properly as if the gap were smaller.
2. Final version only, ready to send.

Rules: British English, warm and direct, no grovelling, no invented excuse. Ask me up to three questions before you start.

The bit that matters: once. Left alone it apologises in the opening, the middle and the sign-off, which reads as far more awkward than the delay ever did.

2. The bad news

Price rise, cancellation, changing the terms.

Nick this one:

You're helping me deliver unwelcome news by email without padding it.

The news: [e.g. "my day rate goes up 15% from January"]
The honest reason: [e.g. "I've not raised it in three years"]
Who it's going to: [e.g. "a client of two years who has never once quibbled"]

Give me:
1. The email. News in the first two sentences, reason given once and briefly, then exactly what happens next.
2. Final version only, ready to send.

Rules: British English, under 150 words, calm. Don't ask them to make me feel better about it, and don't add "I hope you understand". Ask me anything you need to know first.

The bit that matters: the no-reassurance rule. “I feel awful about this” hands them your feelings to manage on top of the news.

3. The mistake you have to own

Nick this one:

You're helping me own a mistake by email before it gets worse.

What happened: [e.g. "I invoiced them twice and the second one got paid"]
What I'm doing about it: [e.g. "paying it back today, and changing how I raise invoices"]

Give me:
1. The email. What went wrong, what I'm doing, by when. No excuses, no blaming anyone else.
2. One line on anything I should NOT put in writing yet.
3. Final version only, ready to send.

Rules: British English, under 120 words, one apology maximum. Don't promise anything I haven't told you I'll do. Check with me before you guess.

4. The complaint that actually gets resolved

Nick this one:

You're writing a complaint that gets sorted rather than filed.

What happened: [dates, order or reference numbers, what I was promised, what I got]
What I want: [e.g. "the £90 back, not a voucher"]

Give me:
1. The email. Facts and dates first, then the specific thing I want, then a date I expect a reply by.
2. What to do if they don't reply, in one line.
3. Final version only, ready to send.

Rules: British English, firm and unemotional, under 200 words. No threats, no sarcasm, and don't claim any legal right you can't be sure of. If you're missing something, ask me rather than guessing.

The bit that matters: naming what you want. Complaints that describe the problem get an apology. Complaints that name the outcome get the outcome.

5. The ask to somebody you don’t know

Nick this one:

You're writing a cold email that a busy stranger would actually answer.

Who they are: [e.g. "runs a small letting agency I'd like to do photography for"]
What I want: [e.g. "one paid trial shoot"]
Why me: [one honest line, no puffing]

Give me:
1. The email, under 100 words, with the ask in the first three sentences.
2. A subject line that isn't "Quick question".
3. Final version only, ready to send.

Rules: British English, no flattery, no "I hope this finds you well", and don't invent credentials or clients I haven't mentioned. Ask me what you need before you start, rather than filling the gaps yourself.

The two-minute habit that stops the pile

Nick this one too:

You're clearing my inbox backlog. Search my unanswered email from the last two weeks and sort it into: needs a real reply today, answerable in one line (write me the line), can wait until Friday, needs no reply at all. Be ruthless with the last one. British English throughout. Save the one-liners as drafts so I can check and send them. Anything you'd have to guess, ask me first.

Two minutes, and half of it is sitting in drafts waiting for you.

A dose of honesty

It drafts, you send. Read the difficult ones aloud first: your ear catches what your eye forgives.

It only knows what you and your inbox tell it. The complaint is only as good as the reference numbers you give it.

And some emails shouldn’t be emails. Third round of a misunderstanding? Ring them.

These work in a fairly neutral voice, on purpose. Sounding like you is Teach AI To Write Like You. The chase and the polite no live in The 10 Prompts That Do Your Admin.

Tonight

Find the oldest unanswered email in your inbox. Yes, that one. Prompt number one. It takes the same ninety seconds as a two-day-old one.

That’s five emails handled. The Claude Kickstart teaches Claude your voice and hands over the five worst jobs in your week, inbox included. £47, one weekend.