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Building the practice

How to build a content strategy without a content calendar

25 Sep 2026

A person typing on a black typewriter

Last week was P. One offer, with a price, and the question that actually moves a number: what does it cost your buyer if this does not happen.

This week is the letter that gets started first and finished last.

M is Message. Your content, your list, your newsletter.

Ask somebody what they are doing about it and the answer is usually a number. Three a week. Five a week. Daily, for ninety days.

The number is the wrong end of the problem, and I learned that somewhere unglamorous.

At UBS I built an automated process for handling late changes in reward. It cut the email traffic around it by about eighty per cent.

Nobody wrote better emails. Nobody wrote fewer emails on purpose. The emails simply stopped being necessary, because the thing they were all asking about had finally been decided.

That is what eighty per cent of the traffic had been: people asking, in eleven different ways, a question that had no settled answer. Volume was the symptom. The undecided rule was the cause.

Content works exactly the same way.

Volume is what you produce when you have not decided what you are saying.

Twenty posts a month from an undecided position is twenty versions of a question. Twenty from a settled one is the same argument arriving from twenty directions, and the reader starts to recognise it.

Same number. Completely different week.

Two questions, not a content calendar

So the strategy is not a calendar. It is two questions.

Which of the six letters is this week about. That is the theme. It moves once a week, and everything that goes out that week points at it. The six are below.

Which of the four things is this post. Mindset and beliefs. Expertise and tactical education. Building, which for me is building this in public. Social proof and credibility. That is the pillar, and it changes every day.

The letter decides the week. The pillar decides the day. That is the whole content strategy, and it is why the diagram keeps appearing in these emails rather than a posting schedule.

What that looks like on an actual week

I post five times a week. Same shape every week, so there is nothing to design on a Sunday:

Monday, the feeling. Where the reader is. No ask, ever.
Tuesday, the doubt. What would I even do it on, and who would pay me for it.
Wednesday, the teach. This week's letter.
Thursday, the mechanism. The same letter, one real situation.
Friday, the room. Something only I can say, because I was in it.

Start at three, not five

Three things I do not do, and each one gives a week back:

No carousels. No complicated infographics. Text and images, maybe video, nothing else. It needs to be quick to put together. Anything that needs producing before it can go out is where the habit dies.

No mountains of content. Not fewer posts, narrower ones. Everything points at one of the six things I actually sell. Never a topic because it is trending.

No cold outreach, ever. I never message a stranger. I message the people my post already warmed: whoever viewed the profile, whoever engaged. The post does the introduction, so the message is not a first move.

Get them off the platform

You do not own LinkedIn and you do not own your connections there. An algorithm decides who sees you this week, and it will decide differently next week without telling you.

An email address you own. That is the entire argument for the newsletter, and it is why the list is a letter of the method rather than a nice-to-have at the end of it.

It is also what makes the arithmetic work. A workshop once a month is a burst of eighty people and then nothing. A list is the thing that fills the next one without starting from zero.

The whole method, on one screen

S is Situation. Your positioning, one specific audience and problem. What runs it: your chief of staff, the one that knows your practice and briefs all the others.

I is Invite. Design, fill and run a masterclass or workshop. What runs it: your workshop designer skill, the registration page and the email automations.

M is Message. Design your content strategy and newsletter, which is this week. What runs it: your content strategist and your content editing skill.

P is Premium offer. One offer, with a price. What runs it: your offer, locked in and stored, and your finance analyst, so you never quote under your minimum.

L is Listen. Develop your DM and sales call strategy. What runs it: automatic calendar bookings, call prep, note taking and filing.

E is Earn. Get paid. Define your invoice and sales process. What runs it: automatically tracking and recording sales and expenses.

S.I.M.P.L.E. Six key steps. Simple because you're building your workforce aligned to it.

What you actually walk away with

Not a content calendar. Two questions you can answer on a Sunday night in about four minutes: which letter is this week, and what is open right now that it should point at. The four pillars and the five days then fill themselves in.

Everything else follows from that. If you cannot name the letter and the pillar, do not write the post.

And where the AI comes in

M is where the time actually goes. Two things make it work, and they are not the same kind of thing. One of them thinks. The other one does not, and that is the point of it.

An agent thinks. It owns one job, it reads before it answers, and it can disagree with you.

A skill does not think. It regulates how one thing gets done, the same way every time.

So in M you build one of each.

Your content strategist is an agent. It decides what the week is for. It knows which letter you are on, which pillars you have leaned on this week, what is open, and what you posted about last time, so you are not choosing a topic from a blank page at nine on a Sunday evening. The blank page is what produces twenty posts about nothing. And because it thinks, it will tell you when the topic you want is the wrong one this week.

Your content editor is a skill. It drafts to the same standard every time. Your structure, your rules, your banned words, the length you actually post at. You do not want it having opinions about your house style. You want it applying them.

And it drafts from your own material. Not from the internet. The file you built in week one, the notes from your last three calls, the thing you said out loud to somebody that landed.

That last part decides whether any of it is usable. An editor that has read your situation writes something only you could have written. An editor that has read nothing writes what a competent stranger would write about your industry, and you can tell in one line.

And what comes back is a first draft. That is all it is.

Then you read it properly and decide what actually makes sense, cut the half that does not, and add in the specifics no AI is ever going to have: the room you were sitting in, and the thing somebody said in it that you have never written down anywhere.

That part does not get handed over. It is the whole reason anyone reads you rather than somebody else.

Which is S again, doing the work three letters later. Build the thing that knows you before you build the thing that writes for you.

What would people pay me for

Ten minutes, five questions, and an answer built out of things that already happened to you. Free.

What would people pay me for