Quick heads-up before we dive in: this one’s longer than my usual post. I thought about trimming it, but the topic didn’t feel right to rush — so grab a coffee, or save it for later. Either way, I think it’s worth the read.
I have several friends who have recently started consulting businesses after long, successful careers inside established firms. They are smart, experienced leaders with genuinely valuable perspectives. They have sat in difficult client meetings, guided teams through complex decisions, helped win major projects, and learned lessons that could save someone else time, money, or heartache.
I love seeing them begin to share what they know.
I read their posts and understand the depth behind every word because I know them. I know the projects they have led, the rooms they have been in, the problems they have solved, and the people who have trusted them. I can fill in the gaps between what they wrote and why it matters.
But their future clients may not.
Someone encountering them for the first time may see a thoughtful post but still not understand who it is for, what problem it addresses, or why this person might be the one to call. The expertise is there. The connection to the reader is not always as clear.
At the same time, I know other leaders who have spent decades accumulating knowledge but have not started sharing any of it. They tell me they would like to write, but they do not know what to say. They assume they need a completely original idea, a polished content strategy, or a profound point of view before they can begin.
Some people are writing but not reaching the people who need them. Others have something important to say but cannot figure out how to start.
I think these are two versions of the same problem.
You probably do not need more ideas
Most experienced leaders do not have a shortage of things to say. Their ideas are already hiding inside the conversations they have every day.
They are in the advice they repeatedly give clients. The questions they wish someone had asked earlier. The mistakes they see organizations make over and over again. The meeting that stayed with them on the drive home. The moment they realized the client was asking one question but needed the answer to another.
The challenge is learning how to translate those experiences into something another person can recognize and use.
When you have lived inside your expertise for years, it is easy to write from the inside out. You begin with what you know, what you do, what is changing in your profession, or what other experts should understand.
Your potential client is reading from the outside in.
They are not necessarily thinking about your methodology, discipline, or professional vocabulary. They are thinking about the difficult conversation they need to have with their leadership team. They are worried about the project that is falling behind, the client relationship that feels uncertain, or the growth plan that has not produced growth.
They may need your expertise, but they are experiencing it as a problem.
Make it easy for them to see how your expertise answers their problem, so they can connect the two.
Your peers may understand you. Will your future clients?
This is where thoughtful content can quietly miss its audience.
We naturally write for the people already around us. They understand our terminology, recognize our experience, and appreciate the nuances of what we are saying. When they like or comment on a post, it reassures us that the content is working.
Peer validation is meaningful, especially when you are stepping out on your own. But agreement from people who do what you do is not the same as recognition from people who need what you do.
You may be writing for people who understand your expertise instead of people who need your expertise.
There is a subtle but important difference between a peer reading your post and thinking, “That is so true,” and a potential client reading it and thinking, “That is exactly what is happening inside our organization.”
The second response begins a different kind of relationship.
It tells the reader that you understand their world. It helps them name something they may have been struggling to articulate. It gives them a reason to remember you, follow you, share your work, or begin a conversation.
That does not mean every post needs to produce a phone call or turn into a client. Relationships rarely work that quickly or neatly. Someone may read your work quietly for months. They may forward it to a colleague, bring the idea into a leadership meeting, or remember your name when the need becomes urgent — actions you may never see, but real ones all the same.
Your future clients are reading
In the last year, I’ve reviewed dozens of LinkedIn profiles for leaders launching consulting practices. The ones getting inbound inquiries all had one thing in common — and it wasn’t more followers.
It’s a common misconception: that visibility is the goal, and the algorithm will sort out the rest. But follower count and inbound inquiries turned out to be almost unrelated. The profiles generating real conversations weren’t the loudest or the most frequent posters. They were the ones where, within thirty seconds, you knew exactly who this person helps and what problem they solve.
Your future clients may already be reading what you write. The question is not simply whether they see you.
The question is whether what they see helps them recognize that you understand them.
That is good news because you do not need to become louder, post every day, or manufacture opinions just to remain visible. You may simply need to look at what you are already saying through the eyes of the person you hope to reach.
The shift can be surprisingly small. A thoughtful post that currently speaks to your peers may only need a clearer audience, a more recognizable problem, and a stronger connection between your expertise and something your client cares about.
I put together the exact audit I run on my own writing — six questions I ask before I hit publish, plus two real before-and-after rewrites showing how a “true but forgettable” sentence becomes one a client actually recognizes themselves in.
Because here’s the uncomfortable part: most of the leaders I know aren’t failing to build a following. They’re building the wrong one. And by the time that becomes obvious — six months of posting, plenty of peer applause, still no client inquiries — it feels a lot harder to change course than it would right now.
Here’s the six-question audit that keeps me on the right side of that line — and how to know, before you hit publish, which one you’re actually writing.
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