It's happening in a conversation you'll never hear about. Your name comes up, somebody says five or six words about you, and the person listening decides whether to look you up.
Those five or six words are the business.
We build the version of you that shows up instead: a full quarter of LinkedIn, written from your own work, handed over in seven days.
We build your audit before we speak, walk you through it on the call. It's yours to keep whether you buy or not. Thirty minutes. If we don't think this is right for you, we'll say so and leave it there. The price is further down this page, where it belongs.
of B2B deals go to the vendor the buyer already preferred before they ever spoke to a seller.
6sense, 2025 Buyer Experience Report, 4,510 B2B buyers surveyed.
Most of it happens somewhere you aren't. What they find standing in for you is whatever you left lying around.
Across the 9,128 founder posts we measured, the thing that predicted performance best was whether the founder shows up in their own sentences. Topic came nowhere near it. Neither did the hook.
Generic writing is free now, and everybody has it. The one thing nobody can copy off you is something that happened to you.
People don't wait for you to explain yourself. They fill the gap with whatever is nearest. Your job title. Your company name. A half-remembered thing somebody said at a conference.
That gap is where the deal goes. Usually to somebody worse than you.
That's what makes this so easy to keep ignoring. Nobody writes to say they checked your profile, found a job title and a repost from two years ago, and went with the other firm. It arrives in your life as a quiet quarter.
Somebody vouched for you. The buyer went and looked. Nothing they found matched the recommendation, so the introduction cooled on its own and you were told they went in another direction.
You spend the first twenty minutes establishing that you know what you're talking about. The founder they have been reading for six months skips that part entirely and opens at price.
When a buyer can't tell you apart from the other three on their list, the only thing left to compare is price. That's where discounting starts, and it starts with them, not with you.
There's a call in your calendar you didn't chase. You don't recognise the name.
They open by telling you they have been reading you since October. Then they quote a line back at you, from a post you barely remember writing, and ask a question about it, about the argument, not about your process.
Nobody asks what you do. Nobody asks for case studies. There's no part of the hour where you have to establish that you're worth the hour.
Twenty minutes in, they ask when you could start.
You didn't send a proposal, build a deck or chase anybody down. You wrote four posts a week for six months, and one Thursday in January one of them found the right person on the right morning.
The quarter after that, it happens again. It isn't luck twice. The thing that produced it is still running, and you're the one running it.
Six questions, then an honest answer, including the one where we tell you not to buy this. Answer for how things are today, not how you intend them to be next month.
Ninety seconds. Nobody sees your answers, including us. There's no email field anywhere on this page.
None of them are stupid. They're what a sensible person does about this, and they fail for the same reason in three different costumes.
The writing takes ten minutes. Deciding what the post is even about takes forty-five, every week, on top of running the company. This is where almost everybody stops, and it never arrives as a decision to stop, it arrives as a fortnight where you were busy, and then another one.
They write well, and they write from nothing. So the posts come back technically yours and arguing nothing in particular, because nobody ever decided what you were arguing. Then they leave, and it's back to the start with a folder of old drafts and a habit that was never yours to keep.
They take the company page and fill a calendar with industry observations. But a logo can only publish a claim. Only a person can take a position, be wrong in public, and still be standing, which is what a buyer is reading for. A year later there's a feed nobody reads and an invoice nobody can quite justify cancelling.
Nobody ever decided what you argue. So nothing stacks.
In that order, and the order is the whole point. Most people sell you the middle one on its own, which is exactly why it stops working the moment they leave.
Before a single post gets written, we work out what you believe that your category doesn't, and whether you can prove it. We read your competitors to find the ground everybody is already standing on, then we take the gap. You get one page that says who you help, what you argue, and the through line every post traces back to. This is the part that makes post fifty-three as good as post one.
Thirteen weeks, four posts a week, written from your clients, your numbers and your stories. No swipe file. Forty-three of them arrive with the carousel or the card already designed in your colours. Your profile gets rewritten and printed beside the old one so you can see what it was costing you. And two hundred named people who could hire you, researched, with the message written for every way a conversation starts.
The part nobody else sells you, because it ends their revenue. Six post shapes, each worked through on your own material, and the one hour a week that produces the next four posts forever. Plus a recorded walkthrough in short sections you can rewatch in month six when you've forgotten how the rotation works. In week fourteen you don't need us, and that's deliberate.
The actual list, with the actual counts. Nothing outside it is included or available to be added later on a call, a fixed list is the only reason a delivery date can be put in writing at all.
Headline, About, skills, services, experience. Banner and photo done. Printed beside your current one so you can see the difference.
What you argue, who for, and the map of where every competitor overlaps. Plus three or four pillars to write inside.
The six you hear on sales calls, each one answered by a post before the call ever happens.
Thirteen weeks, four a week, dated. Written from your clients and your numbers, not a swipe file.
Thirteen carousels and thirty cards, finished in your colours. Nine posts run as text alone.
A live spreadsheet you work in. Who they're, their company, and why they fit you specifically.
Every way a conversation starts, written out. Plus the daily routine and the conversion loop.
The weekly hour that writes your next four posts. Six post shapes. A two-minute measurement sheet.
Short sections, not one long call. Rewatch it in month six when you've forgotten the rotation.
What each week should feel like, and what to do in it. Week three is the one that matters.
Each piece appears the moment it's finished, so you watch the quarter get built instead of waiting on it. The workspace copies into your own Notion account, so nothing here depends on us staying around. Lists come as spreadsheets. Where a number above is a minimum, that's what you're owed.
One rule, and it settles most questions before they're asked. We do everything that takes judgement and everything that takes a machine. We stop at the two things that need you in the room.
Four things you can weigh before a single dollar moves. The second one takes ninety seconds from where you're sitting.
We read your profile and your last ten posts before we speak, and the call opens on what we found, not on a pitch. Three things, specific to your account, that you can't see from inside it.
Not your follower count, you already know that one. The gap between what your headline claims and what your posts argue. How many of your last ten you appear in. And the best thing you ever wrote, which you never went back to.
The diagnostic above runs the same reasoning on answers you give yourself. Six questions, no email field, and nobody sees them, including us.
If your answers say you're already doing this well, it will tell you so and suggest you keep your money.
Every rule in your manual comes from something measured across that set. It's why we can tell you that how a post is written accounts for roughly seventeen percent of how it lands, and why nothing here's argued from taste.
On day three you receive your positioning spine, the sheet of all fifty-two angles, and three finished posts, one carousel, one image post, one text post.
That's where you say what's off. The angle sheet is yours to edit until the end of day five, and the remaining forty-nine are written only against what you approved.
You shouldn't have to sit through a call to find out whether this is even in your range. It's one number, one invoice, and it's the same number for everybody who reads this page.
One fee, invoiced after the call if you decide to go ahead. The complete build above, delivered in seven days, and yours to own outright.
A retainer only pays the person holding it while you still need them. That gives them a reason to keep the deciding on their side of the desk, which is exactly the thing that has to end for this to work.
So the whole quarter is built, handed over and explained once. In week fourteen you either run it yourself, which is the plan, or you don't and you've still kept everything.
We aren't going to tell you what a ghostwriter would charge, because we'd be guessing and you'd know it. Here's the arithmetic on our own number instead.
The thirty-nine hours is the honest one. Working out what a post is even about takes about forty-five minutes, every time, and fifty-two of those is most of a working week you won't get back. That cost never lands on an invoice, which is why it's so easy to keep paying it.
In writing, in the contract. The clock starts when your Founder Session and your vault reach us, not before, so a busy fortnight on your side costs you nothing.
Not a draft by day seven. Not most of it. Not conditional on you replying to anything in between. The whole build, complete in your workspace, on the day we said.
We can put that date in writing for one reason: the list above never changes, so we always know exactly what we're promising.
All three are true, and you'd find them out anyway. It seems better to say them here than to let you discover them in week three.
Illustrative shape of the quarter, not measured client data. The flat stretch is what the first month looks like while the posts are still young, because nothing under thirty days old has finished competing yet.
How a post is written accounts for roughly seventeen percent of how it lands. The rest is the idea, your standing, and who's already in your network. We get that seventeen percent right every time. We don't own the other eighty-three.
A post that's four days old has barely competed. Most of what looks like a bad week is just a young one. Read nothing before day thirty.
Nothing will appear to be happening. That's what week three looks like when this is working. It's also where most founders stop, because nobody warned them. We email you that week for exactly this reason.
Two lists, and the second is the more useful of the pair. If you recognise yourself on the right, this isn't the thing to buy.
Thirty minutes to decide, and after that nothing to schedule with anybody. You talk once, on camera, whenever suits you. Nothing in the seven days waits on you.
Before we wrote a word for anybody, our team went and measured. 9,128 founder posts, scored against the size of the audience each one actually reached, so an account with 40,000 followers wasn't automatically beating one with 900. Another 6,059 we scraped and scored ourselves. 53 profiles pulled apart line by line.
I expected the answer to be about hooks. It wasn't, and most of what gets taught about LinkedIn didn't survive the scoring at all.
What did survive is a bit boring. How a post is written explains about 17% of how it does against that person's own audience, and the biggest single thing inside that 17% is whether the founder shows up in their own sentences. Not what the post is about. Whether there's a person in it, doing something, on a particular day.
We went looking in the first place because of something I kept seeing and couldn't explain. Founders who were obviously good at the work, losing jobs to founders who weren't, because the second lot were easier to describe to somebody else.
Publishing more doesn't fix it. I've watched people post four times a week for a year and stay invisible, because nobody ever sat down and decided what they were arguing.
So that's the order we work in. Decide the argument, build the quarter out of it, hand it over and go. By week fourteen you don't need us, which I'm aware is an odd thing for an agency to build on purpose. I'd rather be the firm you recommend than the firm you renew.
No buyer has ever left a meeting and gone off to check what a company page thinks. They look up the person.
Every post is written against a document called your Voice DNA, built from your recorded Founder Session and your own material: your sentence lengths, the words you use, the arguments you keep returning to. We use tools in the process the way a studio uses a camera, and we aren't going to be coy about that. What we won't do is hand you something generic and call it yours. That's exactly why you read three finished posts on day three, before the other forty-nine exist, so you can tell us it doesn't sound like you at the point where changing it costs nothing.
One call, thirty minutes, and that's the only meeting there will ever be. After it comes the Founder Session: about ninety minutes on camera, recorded whenever suits you, with the questions already recorded so there's nobody waiting on the other end. Then a short second link for your colours and your competitors, and your vault: the podcasts, keynotes, proposals, recorded calls and long client emails you already have, sent as links, no uploading. That's it. After that, you press publish four times a week.
Worth knowing before you sit down: the session is the whole of it. Every post, your positioning, all of it comes out of what you said, so a founder who talks properly for ninety minutes gets a sharper quarter than one who gives short answers in twenty. Nobody is grading you. There's just more to build from.
We build your audit first, your profile and recent posts measured against the research set, with your own writing quoted back at you, and the first half of the call is us walking you through it. You keep it either way. Then what your build would argue, what it costs, and whether you're a fit. Thirty minutes, and no follow-up sequence if you say no.
There's no checkout on this website and nothing is paid before we've spoken. You book, we talk for thirty minutes, and you find out whether this is a fit. If it is, you get one invoice for $4,997 and a contract with the delivery date written into it. Your channel and your workspace open the same day. The seven days don't start until your Founder Session and your vault reach us, so a busy fortnight costs you nothing.
No, and we never ask for your login. Every post is dated by week and day and ready to paste. We do not answer your comments or your messages either, but the loop for those is written out, step by step, so you or somebody on your team can run it without guessing.
Day three is where that gets settled. You receive your positioning spine, the sheet of fifty-two angles and three finished posts, one of each format, before the volume exists. You say what's off, the angle sheet is yours to edit until the end of day five, and the remaining forty-nine are written only against what you approved.
On the delivery date, yes, and it's written into the contract: seven days, or the fee comes back. On reach, followers, leads or revenue, no. Nobody can promise those honestly, and we would rather lose the sale than pretend otherwise. If someone has given you a number, it's worth asking what happens when it's missed.
Nothing about a client goes out under their name unless they have said yes, and we write the wording you send to ask. The manual carries a line on where that line sits for your business rather than a generic one.
You do, from the moment you pay, assigned to you in writing. It lives in a Notion workspace that duplicates into your own account, so nothing depends on us keeping anything running. We keep our own methods, our research and our layout files, and that's all.
Yes, but as a second engagement. Everything is built from one person’s voice, positioning and material, because a personal brand belongs to a person, not a company. Two people means two builds, and merging them produces something that sounds like neither of you.
Because arguments travel and formats don't. A position built properly can go anywhere afterwards, but what works on LinkedIn reads badly in a newsletter and dies on video. We'd rather do one surface properly than four adequately, and the manual teaches you the one you're standing on.
Because handover calls exist to make the seller feel thorough. They land on a day that suits us, run an hour, and you remember about a fifth. A recording in short sections can be watched at midnight, rewatched in week six, and forwarded to whoever ends up helping you run this.
We'll have measured your account before we speak, and you leave holding the audit whether you buy or not. Thirty minutes, and if this isn't right for you we'll say so.
$4,997, one fee, invoiced only if you go ahead. Delivered in seven days or the fee comes back.