You spent 45 minutes on a four-line post last week.
And you probably rewrote the first sentence at least six times before posting. Then you checked your phone eleven times in the first hour.
You got three likes out of the 1,400 people who already follow you, who already know you exist, who already showed up to see what you have to say. You think the problem is you don't write well enough.
Reality? You lie. All the time.
Most posts don't get shared because they're not true. Full stop.
They're competent. They're well-formatted. They hit the right length and use the right hashtags. Annnnnnnnnd they are completely, utterly forgettable — because they sound like every other post from every other person in your space trying to sound like an expert.
The lie? The shit you refuse to admit about your industry, your special way of working with people and why it works so.much.better.
Expertise doesn't get shared. Honesty does.
Think about it. Would you remember something that talks about the precision of words that sell, or an email about how peeling a gecko is the same as pulling at your perfectly bold posts - both potentially leading to bad things?
One is good. It will do. It’s technically true, though boring AF. The other drops someone in the moment with you and allows them to live an honest experience they are not likely to forget.
When someone reads something and feels the specific, uncomfortable sensation of being seen - not inspired, not informed, seen - she sends it to someone. This is even better when it’s a surprise. (I mean, captions and Fluff? Come on.) Plus bonus points if you make them laugh.
These are the things that expand your reach.
The DM. The forward. The “oh my god, this is you” text at 9 p.m. The chuckle at the absurdity that actually works in your metaphor.
You cannot engineer that with a template. You can, however, engineer it with honesty - specific, deliberate, structurally sound honesty. And maybe a twisted sense of humor.
That’s what this ebook and workbook series teaches.