The question worth answering here is not what belongs in the letter. It is whether the list you wrote is binding, and the answer is more interesting than "no."
Start with the general rule. A will can pull an outside document into itself by incorporation by reference, and the condition attached to it is one of timing. Minnesota's section 524.2-510 is the uniform text: "Any writing in existence when a will is executed may be incorporated by reference if the language of the will manifests this intent and describes the writing sufficiently to permit its identification." The writing must already exist at signing. A letter written afterwards cannot be incorporated, no matter how carefully the will gestures at it, which is precisely the shape of a letter of instruction that gets updated whenever something changes.
Then comes the exception, and it is the one thing on this subject a reader can act on. Minnesota's section 524.2-513, headed "Separate writing identifying bequest of tangible property," provides that a will "may refer to a written statement or list to dispose of items of tangible personal property not otherwise specifically disposed of by the will, other than money and coin collections, and property used in trade or business." To operate, the writing must be referred to in the will, must be either in the testator's handwriting or signed by the testator, and must describe the items and the devisees "with reasonable certainty." And then the timing condition disappears: the statute says in terms that the writing "may be prepared before or after the execution of the will," that it "may be altered by the testator after its preparation," and that where writings conflict, "the most recent writing controls the disposition of the item."
So a state that has this provision gives you a second document that is legally operative, that you can rewrite without going back to a lawyer, and that beats the earlier version of itself. It is not the letter of instruction. It is a narrower thing sitting beside it, and the two are constantly conflated in general-purpose guidance.
The exclusions in that sentence are where the trap sits. Money is out. Coin collections are named separately and are out, which surprises people precisely because a coin collection feels like the paradigm of a tangible chattel. Property used in a trade or business is out. And the list reaches only items "not otherwise specifically disposed of by the will," so it cannot contradict a gift the will already made. A memorandum that says "my sister gets the $9,000 in the credit union account, my coin collection and the espresso machine from the shop" carries exactly one of those three items, and the other two fall into the residue and go wherever the will sends the residue.
Which leaves the informal letter doing the job it is actually good at. Everything above is about moving property, and moving property is a small part of what an executor struggles with. The reliable failures in estate settlement are informational: an account nobody knew existed, a life insurance policy from a former employer, a safe-deposit box whose key is in a drawer, a storage unit on autopay, a domain name renewing annually against a card that has been cancelled. None of that needs legal force. It needs to be written down somewhere findable, and to be current, which is the one thing a witnessed document is bad at.
Two practical boundaries. Digital accounts have their own legal machinery, because an online provider's own tool for naming who may access an account generally outranks anything written in a will or a letter, and published digital estate planning covers that. And the letter should record where things are rather than the credentials themselves, because a document whose own contents are a security risk is one nobody can safely store where the executor will find it.