Flex Your Soft Skills While Everyone Else Trains Their Bots

We are currently halfway through the year and I am halfway through what I’m calling my personal “rebrand” summer. 

I feel like as a collective we are standing between two worlds right now. The human world and the ai world. And while we’re all hanging out here and congregating marketing is shifting.  I went into a whole thing about it over in this BLOG.  

As difficult as it is to tell businesses apart physically it is now getting EXTREMELY difficult to tell businesses events apart because whatever prompts people bought or searched from some leading ai expert is kicking out the same garbage that looks like it was designed at 2:42 a.m. when someone sat up straight in their bed because they forgot to do it, and were passed out from a raging party night with 3 percent battery left on their device.

And the worst part is someone else definitely looked at what got kicked out and said “Yeah, post it.” But I’ll talk more on that another time- pinky swear.

But while we are standing at this marketing crossroads of Wall- E or the Humans I think it’s a good time to remind you about your marketing soft skills and that it might be time to begin to flex those muscles again while other businesses are enthralled with the ai agents they are building. 

So let's talk about it. While everyone else is out here fine-tuning prompts and outsourcing their personality to a chatbot, here's your permission slip to get weird, get human, and get good at the stuff that can't be automated at 2:42 a.m.

The Marketing Soft Skills Worth Flexing Right Now

Storytelling that doesn't sound like it came out of a template
AI can generate copy. It cannot generate your story, your brand's actual voice, or the specific, slightly unhinged way you talk about your product because you actually care about it. That's not a prompt. That's a personality.

Reading the room (aka emotional intelligence)
An algorithm doesn't know your audience is tired, distracted, or scrolling past their fifth "AI-powered" post of the day. You do. Or you can, if you're paying attention. That's the whole game right now — noticing what people actually feel, not what the data says they should feel.

Actual, real-life relationship building
DMs, comments, follow-ups, remembering someone's name after a networking event — none of that scales in a spreadsheet. It scales in the "oh my god she remembered" department, which is where loyalty actually lives.

Handwritten cards (yes, actual paper, actual pen)
I send handwritten cards to clients for their birthdays and our work anniversaries together. Not an automated email that says "Happy Birthday from all of us at Maven & Muse!" — an actual card, with an actual sentiment in my actual handwriting, that I put in an actual mailbox, that took me actual minutes I could've spent doing something else. That's the point. In a world where everything can be generated in half a second, the thing that took time is the thing that means something. No AI is licking an envelope for you.

Creative risk-taking
If everyone's output looks the same because it came from the same five prompts, the fastest way to stand out is to do something a machine wouldn't think to do. Weird headline. Unexpected format. A badly lit phone photo. A joke that only your audience gets. That's you. That's not replicable.

Judgment — knowing when to say "no, don't post that"
This is the one nobody's talking about enough. Somebody has to be the person who looks at the ai output and says "yeah, this isn't it," instead of "yeah, post it." That instinct — taste, basically — is a soft skill, and it's becoming a rare one.

So here we are, at the end of my thoughts and still standing at the crossroads. Wall-E or the humans. And honestly? I feel like you don't have to pick a side to win this one. Use the AI. Use the tools. Just don't let them replace the parts of you that were never meant to be automated in the first place.

Because your audience isn't just scrolling past sameness — they're craving the opposite of it. They want to feel like a real person made this, thought about this, cared about this. They're starving for it, actually, whether they could name it or not.

These soft skills are how you get remembered in a sea of sameness. Not because you outsmarted the algorithm, but because you gave people something the algorithm never could the opportunity to feel seen. 

So here's your homework: this week, do one thing a machine wouldn't think to do. Send the card. Make the call instead of the auto-reply. Write the weird headline. Let's see who actually remembers it. Then drop what you did in the comments so we can all learn and be supportive of each other.

Go be memorable my friend. The algorithm will catch up eventually. Your people are waiting on you now.

Card Images bought from: : Viola and Beatrice and Ginger P. Designs

It's Not You, It's July (And January. And June.) Let's Talk About The J Month Slump

Every year, like clockwork, it happens.

January rolls in and the DMs slow down. June hits and the inquiries dry up. July? You're practically refreshing your inbox hoping for something. If you've been running a business for more than a year, you already know this feeling — and you've probably started to wonder if you're doing something wrong.

You're not.

Welcome to the J Month phenomenon.

January, June, and July are historically the slowest sales months for small businesses, service providers, and product-based brands alike. The pattern shows up so consistently across industries that marketers and business owners have quietly started calling it the J Month slump.

And while it might feel personal when your sales dashboard looks like a flatline, it's one of the most universal rhythms in consumer behavior.

Understanding why the slump happens is the first step to marketing your way through it — or around it entirely.

January: The post-holiday hangover Consumers are recovering — financially and emotionally — from the holidays. Credit cards are maxed, budgets are reset, and buying behavior shifts into a more cautious gear. People are making resolutions, not purchases. There's a lot of "new year, new me" energy and very little "add to cart" energy.

June: The summer transition June sits in an awkward in-between. School is just ending, families are recalibrating, summer travel is ramping up, and discretionary spending starts shifting toward experiences over products or services. Attention is scattered — and scattered attention doesn't convert.

July: Full summer mode July is the peak of the summer mindset. People are checked out. Literally — they're on vacation, at the beach, or sitting poolside ignoring their phones. Buying decisions get pushed. Emails go unopened. Launches that perform brilliantly in other months land with a thud.

So what does this mean for your marketing?

Here's where most businesses make the mistake: they panic.

They slash prices, flood their audience with desperate content, or go completely dark because "nobody is buying anyway." Both extremes cost you.

The J months are not a sign that your offer is wrong, your content isn't working, or your audience doesn't want what you sell. They're a natural dip in the consumer calendar — and your marketing strategy should account for them before they arrive.

You gotta work with the J Month Slump, Not Against It

1. Plan for it in your revenue projections. The worst thing the J months can do is surprise you. Build them into your annual financial plan so a slow July doesn't send you into a spiral. If you know it's coming, you can make intentional decisions — rather than reactive ones — about how you spend, save, and market during those months.

2. Use the slow season to fill your pipeline. The J months are when your audience is quieter, but they're still watching. This is the time to show up consistently with value-driven, relationship-building content — education, behind-the-scenes, community — so that when they are ready to buy (hello, August and September), you're the first name that comes to mind.

3. Launch before and after, not during. If you have a signature offer, a course, or a service package, do not plan your biggest launch for mid-July. Use January to launch to your most warm, motivated audience. Plan your June and July content to build anticipation so that your late summer launch lands with a waitlist already in place.

4. Create J-month specific offers thoughtfully. If you do want to generate revenue during slow months, make it intentional. A lower-commitment, lower-price-point offer can lower the barrier to purchase when consumers are in a more cautious mindset. Think: a workshop, a digital product, a short-term intensive — something that doesn't require a lot of buy-in but keeps cash flowing and your audience engaged.

5. Invest in your brand. Slow months are a gift for the brands willing to use them. Refresh your content strategy. Film content in batches. Update your website. Write those email sequences you've been putting off. The businesses that win the fall are the ones who spent their summer building — not panicking.

I’ve been in this space for what seems like forever and the J month slump isn't going anywhere. Consumer behavior is predictable in that way. What isn't predictable is how your business responds to it — and that's where the opportunity lives.

The brands that come out of the slow season stronger are the ones who stopped treating it like a problem to fix and started treating it like a season to plan for.

Build your strategy around the calendar. Know your slow months. And remember: quiet months don't mean your business is broken. They mean it's time to build.

We Are Living Through a Digital Renaissance — and Most People Haven't Noticed

The word renaissance gets thrown around loosely. A skincare brand relaunches and calls it a renaissance. A musician drops an album after a three-year hiatus and the internet declares a renaissance. We've diluted the word into meaninglessness.

But I want to use it here in its truest sense.

A renaissance — the original one, the Italian one, the one we still study centuries later — wasn't just a moment of good art or cultural excitement. It was a fundamental reorganization of how humans understood themselves, how they communicated, what they valued, and who got to participate in the creation of culture. It was a rupture between what came before and what came after.

I think that's exactly where we are right now.

And I think most of us are too close to it to see it clearly.

To understand what's shifting, you have to understand what we're shifting from.

The internet's first era — roughly the mid-2000s through the mid-2010s — was defined by consolidation. A few massive platforms became the architecture of online life.

A few formats dominated. A relatively small number of voices rose to the top, and the rest of us consumed what they made.

Social media, for all its promise of democratization, quickly developed its own hierarchies. Follower counts became a caste system. Virality became the primary measure of value. The logic of broadcast media — a few talking to many — simply migrated online and put on a different costume.

Content became a performance. Optimized, polished, engineered for reach. Brands learned to speak in a particular tone.

Creators learned to present a particular kind of life.

Authenticity became a strategy rather than a natural state — something you performed carefully rather than something that simply existed.

And people consumed it, for a while, because it was what was available.

But something has been quietly breaking down. And in its place, something genuinely new is being built.

You can feel it if you're paying attention.

The exhaustion with performance. The mass exodus from certain platforms, or at least the emotional withdrawal from them. The way people talk about social media now — with a kind of wary distance they didn't have ten years ago.

But the more interesting thing isn't the breakdown.

It's what's growing in the cracks.

Niche communities are thriving in ways that large, generalist audiences are not. People are finding their people — deeply specific, highly particular corners of the internet organized not around size but around shared obsession. Pin traders. Vintage cookbook collectors. People who care deeply about local urban planning. Sourdough nerds. Cottagecore philosophers. Amateur astronomers sharing photos of their backyards.

These communities don't look like media empires. They're not optimized for scale. But they are alive in a way that a lot of mainstream content simply isn't.

At the same time, the tools for creation have become genuinely democratized in a way that earlier eras only promised. Not just the ability to publish — anyone could always publish — but the ability to produce. To make things that look and sound and feel considered.

The barriers between "professional creator" and "person with something to say" have dissolved in ways that are only beginning to ripple outward.

And perhaps most importantly: people are choosing depth over breadth. They are trading passive consumption for active curation. They're building libraries instead of just scrolling feeds. They're seeking out the specific over the general, the human over the polished, the real over the performed.

That is not a small thing. That is a reorientation of values.

The Italian Renaissance didn't happen because a few individuals decided to make better art. It happened because a set of conditions aligned — new technologies (the printing press), new economics (the merchant class), new philosophy (humanism), and a population that was ready, even hungry, for something different after a long period of plague and upheaval.

Look at our own conditions and tell me you don't see the parallels.

We've had our own period of upheaval. We've watched institutions crack. We've lived through a pandemic that fundamentally disrupted how we relate to work, to community, to meaning. We've developed a deep and collective exhaustion with things that feel fake.

And the new technologies are here. AI is changing what creation means and who can participate in it. New platforms are emerging with different values than the ones that came before. The economics of the creator economy are still being written, but they're being written faster than most people realize.

What the original Renaissance understood — and what the people navigating this moment are beginning to feel — is that in these ruptures, the people who thrive are not necessarily the ones who were winning before. They are the ones who can read what the moment actually needs and meet it there.

If you are someone who makes things — content, products, community, art, ideas — this moment is asking something specific of you.

It's asking for honesty over optimization. The performance of authenticity is over.

People can feel the difference now between a voice that has been carefully constructed to seem real and a voice that simply is real.

The former creates reach, sometimes.

The latter creates connection.

And connection is the currency of this new era.

It's asking for depth over frequency.

The renaissance wasn't built by people producing as much as possible as fast as possible. It was built by people who cared enough about their craft to go deep, to spend time with ideas, to make things worth returning to. In a world of infinite content, depth is the rarest and most valuable thing you can offer.

It's asking for specificity over scale. The dream of reaching everyone is a holdover from the broadcast era. The new dream — the one that's actually attainable and actually meaningful — is reaching your people with such precision and such genuine understanding of what they need that they feel, when they encounter your work, that it was made for them.

Because it was.

And perhaps most importantly, it's asking for participation. The renaissance was not a spectator sport. The people who shaped it were the ones who showed up — who made things, shared things, responded to things, built on each other's ideas.

The same is true now.

The communities and creators and brands that will define this era are not the ones waiting to see how it all shakes out. They're the ones who understand that they are the ones shaking it out.

The implications for brands are significant and, for many, uncomfortable.

The old model — define a brand voice, maintain consistency, produce content that performs — is not wrong exactly, but it is insufficient. It was built for a media environment that no longer exists.

It assumes an audience that is passive, that is grateful for content, that will engage with whatever you put in front of them as long as it looks professional.

That audience is gone.

The audience that has replaced them is active, discerning, and deeply uninterested in being marketed to in ways that feel like marketing. They are, however, genuinely hungry for brands that have a real point of view. That create things worth keeping. That participate in conversations instead of broadcasting into them. That treat their community like a community, not a demographic.

The brands that will matter in ten years are the ones building that now. Not because it's a better strategy — though it is — but because it's the only authentic response to the moment we're in.

One thing worth sitting with: we are early.

The Italian Renaissance didn't announce itself. People living through it didn't walk around saying "we are in a renaissance." They were just making things, finding each other, building new ways of thinking and creating in real time. The naming came later, when there was enough distance to see the shape of what had happened.

We don't have that distance yet. We are in the middle of this. Which means it's messy and uncertain and the outcomes are genuinely unclear. Not every experiment will work. Not every new platform or format or community will survive. Some of what looks like renaissance energy right now is probably noise.

But the underlying shift — the reorientation toward depth, authenticity, specificity, and genuine human connection — that is real. That is happening. And the people and brands who understand it, who lean into it rather than waiting for it to pass, are the ones who will look back on this moment as the one that changed everything for them.

We are living through a digital renaissance.

The question isn't whether you'll be part of it.

The question is what you'll make.

The metrics nobody's talking about (but should be)

I'm here to tell you today that you've been chasing the wrong numbers.

Let's yap about one most not talked about marketing things that you need to be paying attention to when you are creating content: Saves and Shares have becoming way more valuable than passive likes and followers.

 Likes feel good - to your ego.

Follower counts look impressive in a deck. 

But while everyone's been optimizing for applause, a quieter, more powerful behavior has been reshaping how content actually spreads — and most brands are completely missing it.

Here's something the marketing industry has been slow to admit: the playbook that worked in 2016 is failing the brands who are still using it in 2026.

The "create for likes" era had a very specific look. 

Perfectly staged flat lays. 

Motivational quotes in branded fonts. 

Trend-chasing content designed to feel familiar enough to earn a quick double-tap. Content engineered for the moment of the scroll — optimized for stopping the thumb, not for anything that came after.

And for a while, it worked. 

Likes drove reach. 

Reach drove followers. 

Followers meant something.

But the game changed. 

Platforms shifted their algorithms away from follower-based distribution. 

Organic reach for like-bait content collapsed. 

And more importantly — audiences evolved. 

People got savvier, more selective, more fatigued. 

The content that used to feel engaging started feeling like noise.

Here's the cultural shift nobody talks about enough these days: people have largely stopped performing engagement for engagement's sake. 

The era of liking everything in your feed is over. 

And you've gotta stop being sad about people not liking your stuff.

We're all just lurkers now aren't we?

Younger audiences especially don't engage publicly the way they used to — they consume quietly, they share privately (hello, DMs and group chats), and they save intentionally.

So if you're still building posts designed to rack up likes — relying on pretty aesthetics with no depth, jumping on every trending audio, creating content that says nothing in a visually appealing way — you're investing in a currency that's lost its value.

The brands winning right now aren't the ones with the most polished feeds. 

They're the ones creating content that does something — that teaches, that challenges, that makes someone feel understood, that earns a spot in someone's saved folder or gets forwarded to a group chat at 11pm.

The aesthetic still matters. 

The craft still matters. 

But it has to be in service of something real.

You know- kinda like the entire reason we are incarnated here as humans.

To be of service to each other.

People aren't just scrolling to be entertained anymore. They're curating. 

They're building personal libraries out of content that actually means something to them. They're sending posts to friends with a "this is literally us" or "you NEED to read this." 

They're screenshotting recipes, saving outfit inspo, bookmarking business advice to revisit on a Sunday morning with coffee.

Your audience has become an editorial team — and they're deciding what makes the cut.

A like says: I saw this. 

A save says: I want to come back to this. 

A share says: Someone I care about needs to see this.

And from a pure algorithm standpoint? 

Platforms reward both. 

Saves tell Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest that your content has shelf life. 

Shares tell every platform that your content travels. 

Both signals push your posts further, longer, to more people.

So how do you actually implement this?

Well dear reader this is going to require a mindset shift to where strategy meets creativity. 

You've got to move on from the “likes” means this is good content and instead create content with the intention of it going out further.

Liked content is often: visually satisfying, relatable, funny, trending.

Saved and shared content is: useful, surprising, clarifying, or deeply resonant.

Ask yourself before you post: Would I save this? Better yet: Would I send this to someone?

Here are the content types that consistently earn saves and shares:

"Save this for later" content — Tips, tutorials, checklists, how-to guides, resource roundups. If it solves a real problem or teaches something, people will bookmark it.

"This is exactly what I needed to hear" content — Perspective shifts, honest takes, the thing everyone's thinking but no one's saying out loud. Emotional truth travels fast.

"I have to send this to [name]" content — Highly specific, niche content that speaks to a particular person's situation. Counterintuitively, the more specific you get, the more shareable you become — because the right person feels seen, and they know exactly who else needs to see it too.

Aesthetic content worth collecting — Moodboard-worthy visuals, beautiful quotes, aspirational imagery. People build digital identities through what they save, and they'll save what reflects who they are or who they want to be.

One of my secret ways to decompress online isn't dog videos — shocking, I know. It's watching Disney pin traders.

Full disclosure: 

I don't collect pins. 

I am not a Disney adult. 

I'm just an auntie dreaming of the day taking the littles there.

So….

I genuinely cannot explain why this content has me in a chokehold. 

And yet here I am, deep in Instagram reel rabbit holes watching people trade small pieces of enamel like it's the stock exchange.

Here's why I think it works — and why it's a perfect case study for everything I just said.

These creators aren't just making content about pins. They're also sharing tips for navigating the parks, insider knowledge only a passholder would know, and genuine community-building around a very specific shared obsession. 

The pins are the entry point. 

The value is everything surrounding them.

I save those videos for a future Disney trip.

I send them to friends who might be planning a Disney trip. 

I've watched the same park navigation breakdowns multiple times.

That's the magic. 

The creator wasn't trying to go viral. 

They were creating something genuinely useful for a very specific person — and it found me, someone who doesn't even fit the target audience, because the content was worth something.

That's the type of content that I want you building toward. 

Content so good, so specific, so genuinely useful that even people who weren't looking for it end up keeping it.

If you're ready to create content worth saving — hit reply or grab a time on my calendar. 

I'd love to yap with you. 

You're Not a Visionary. You're a Vendor.

I went to opening night of The Devil Wears Prada 2. Because of course I did.

And no — I'm not giving you a single spoiler. Partly because I have manners. Partly because I'm already planning to go see it again.

But there is one line from that film I have not been able to shake. And I pinky swear — seen it or not — it won't give a thing away.

"You're not a visionary. You're a vendor."

The moment I heard it, my brain went straight to us. All of us in this space.

Because some of us are vendors. And some of us are visionaries. And the gap between the two is not closing — if anything, it widens a little more every single day.

Nowhere is that more visible — or more costly — than in your marketing.

A vendor shows up with a plan that works for everyone. They post consistently, follow the trends, use the sounds and templates and hooks that are already performing. They hit the calendar. They check the boxes. They deliver.

And your brand ends up looking exactly like every other brand in your space. Because it does.

Here's the thing about a vendor — they don't need to understand you. They just need to understand the formula. And right now the formula is everywhere. Anyone can buy it, copy it, outsource it. AI can produce it in seconds flat.

A visionary does something different entirely. They start by asking the question nobody else is bothering to ask: what does this brand actually stand for — and does anyone feel that the moment they land on your page?

They're not chasing trends. They're building the thing people point to when they try to explain the trend. They're not filling your content calendar — they're crafting a point of view so sharp that your audience starts to feel like they discovered something. Like they found you before everyone else did.

A visionary makes your audience feel seen. A vendor makes your audience feel marketed to.

People have always been able to tell the difference. They're just a lot less patient with it now.

This is why it matters so much right now. The noise has never been louder. The feed has never been more flooded. AI can churn out vendor-level content around the clock — which means vendor-level marketing has essentially zero barrier to entry anymore.

In that world, the only thing that actually cuts through is a perspective that couldn't have come from anyone else. A brand that feels like a person with something real to say.

That's what a visionary brings. Not just content — conviction.

So the real question isn't who's doing your marketing. It's whether they're showing up with a template or showing up with a belief in where you're going.

Because one fills a feed. The other builds a movement.

If you read that and felt a quiet little gut check — that's your sign.

Let's get on a call and talk about what visionary marketing actually looks like for your brand.

Why The Emptiest Stage At Coachella Was The Loudest

I need to talk to you about Bieberella.

My feed since Saturday night has been filled with videos of Justin Bieber's Coachella performance. And while I tend to scroll extra fast these last two weekends of April during what has been recently deemed the Influencer Olympics — his set is the art my soul didn't know it needed.

If you haven't seen it, here's what he did: he walked out to a blank stage with his laptop, pulled up his own YouTube videos, and sang along with them. Kinda like a weird karaoke.

But before we get into why that was genius, let's talk about what everyone else brought to the desert.

Everyone Else Zipped. Justin Zagged.

Coachella is essentially the Super Bowl halftime show — times ten. Artists show up with full productions. We're talking custom stages, pyrotechnics, surprise guest appearances, thousands of dollars in costumes, backup dancers who have been rehearsing for months. Lady Gaga brought a theatrical spectacle. Charli XCX turned the whole thing into an immersive rave. Every headline act is essentially competing to out-produce the one before them.

And then Justin Bieber finished the first half of his set, the stage went dark and he walked out with a laptop then sat on a stool.

No dancers. No production. No armor.

In business, one of the most powerful strategies you can deploy is this: when everyone zigs, you zag. When your entire market is doing the same thing — same content style, same offers, same aesthetic, same funnel — the fastest way to stand out isn't to do it better.

It's to do something completely different.

Bieber didn't try to out-produce Coachella. He stripped it all the way down. And because of that, he's the only one people are still talking about on the Tuesday after it happened because it is that iconic.

That's not an accident. I can only assume that was part of the strategy.

The most crowded room in the world suddenly has a lot of space in it when you're willing to be the only one doing something different. And different doesn't have to mean bigger, louder, or more expensive. Sometimes different just means being the only person in the room willing to tell the truth.

Here's what makes the whole thing even more layered — YouTube is how his career started. A kid with a webcam and a dream, posting covers before anyone knew his name. And there he is, decades later, getting paid $10 million to harmonize with his younger self.

Typing your own name into the YouTube search bar and singing the hits for a crowd of 275k is a masterclass in knowing your audience. He didn't show up trying to prove who he is now. He showed up and said — this is where I came from, and I'm not ashamed of any of it.

For business owners, that's a lesson worth sitting with. Your origin story is not baggage. The early, scrappy, figuring-it-out version of you is not something to hide behind a rebrand. That's the thing that makes you real. That's the thing that builds trust. And trust is the only currency that actually compounds.

And then there's the mind blowing healing part of it all.

This man has been through it.

In the early days of YouTube, we watched this kid perform through a webcam. We watched him become the first real internet star — something massive — before he had any of the mental tools to hold it. We watched the world chew him up, spit him out, and sit back to see if he'd stay down.

He fell. Hard. Publicly. Repeatedly. And every time, the commentary was merciless.

Saturday night he walked onto one of the biggest stages on the planet and did something I have never seen a performer do at that scale.

He sang along with the 11-year-old version of himself, in his room, figuring it out before anyone knew his name. A man going back for the child he had to leave.

One of the biggest lies social media sells us is that healing looks beautiful and easy. When in reality it comes in waves, chapters, eras.

What he did the other night is the work. The kind most people never do. And this man did it in front of hundreds of thousands of faces — faces he could actually see this time, and voices he could hear singing along with him, no screen between them anymore.

That's what healing looks like. It looks like going back. It looks like not being ashamed of where you started. It looks like owning your whole self — not just the polished, recovered, PR-approved version.

The performance strategy and the healing story are actually the same lesson.

It’s time to stop trying to out-produce everyone else in your market on the internet.

Stop waiting until everything is polished and perfect and ready for the highlight reel.

The most magnetic thing you can do — in your marketing, in your content, in the way you show up — is to be the one person willing to be completely real.

When everyone else is bringing dancers and pyrotechnics, show up with a laptop and the truth of where you started.

That is the content that moves people. That is the brand that people remember. And that is the business that wins — not because it was the loudest, but because it was the most human.

And maybe that's what gives me hope for the future of social. If one of the most watched men on the internet can walk onto a stage with nothing but a laptop and the truth of where he started — maybe we're finally getting tired of the performance. Maybe we're ready for the real thing. Not the highlight reels. Not the carefully crafted comeback stories. But the unpolished, unscripted, fully human version of someone standing in their whole story. That's the content that actually moves people. And I think we're hungry for more of it.

That is art. That is medicine. That is healing.

And honestly? It's just really good business.

I Meant to Stop at Nordstrom. I Ended Up in Taos.

Some of the best lessons don't arrive in a boardroom or a business podcast. Sometimes they show up on a stretch of highway south of Denver when you've blown past your exit and suddenly realize you have absolutely nowhere to be.

That's exactly where this one found me.

It's been a minute since I've shown up here — personal lives will do that sometimes, won't they?

I won't bore you with the details, but in the weeks I've been MIA I was once again reminded of how you can only connect the dots looking backwards. And how powerful the ancient ritual of the referral truly is.

After all of my eldest daughter tasks were complete, my soul needed some nourishing of its own. If you are an eldest child — specifically a daughter — I know you know exactly what I mean. There's a particular kind of depletion that comes with that role, and a particular kind of responsibility you feel to refill your own cup quietly, without making a fuss.

So I threw a few bits into an overnight bag just in case and took off south. My plan — if you could even call it that — was to stop at Nordstrom for lunch, a coffee, and some excellent customer service. A little retail therapy for the soul.

I however drove past the exit and found myself in Taos.

Here's the thing nobody tells you about spontaneous trips: the logistics get complicated fast.

The place you planned on staying is booked up. And the place that place recommends is booked up. But then the place that place recommended has the exact room that your soul needs.

This is exactly what happened.

Two referrals later from essentially competing BnBs — and the third one was the one I was meant to stay in. The room was perfect. The timing was perfect. The whole thing felt less like a booking and more like an arrival.

And somewhere between unpacking my overnight bag and exhaling for the first time in weeks, I started thinking about what had just happened. Not just the room. The path to the room.

Think about what actually happened in Taos. Three businesses, all essentially competing for the same traveler, the same dollar, the same night. And yet BnB number one didn't hesitate. They couldn't help me, but they knew who could. BnB number two did the same thing. No ego, no scarcity mindset — just here, try her, she's wonderful.

That is the ancient art of the referral. And it is one of the most powerful marketing tools in existence — not because it's clever, but because it's human.

We talk a lot in the business world about marketing strategies, lead generation, conversion funnels, and content calendars. And those things matter. But underneath all of it, the most durable, most effective, most trusted form of marketing has always been one person turning to another and saying you need to talk to her.

No algorithm can replicate that moment. No ad spend in the world buys the trust that comes pre-loaded in a referral. When someone sends you a person they care about, they are putting their own reputation on the line.

That is not a small thing. That is everything.

We live in a world absolutely saturated with content, noise, and options. Every platform is louder than the last. Every inbox is fuller than it was yesterday. Everyone is shouting to be seen, to be chosen, to be remembered.

The referral is a whisper — and somehow, it's the only thing people actually hear.

Think about the last time you made a meaningful purchasing decision — hired someone, booked something, invested in a service. How did you find them? Chances are, someone you trusted said go here or call her or you have to try this. That's not a coincidence. That's the referral doing what it has always done.

The businesses that truly understand this aren't just good at what they do. They are generous with what they know. They play a long game. They understand that sending someone away today often means that person comes back to you tomorrow — or sends you ten people who do.

There is no scarcity in a referral culture. There is only abundance.

What This Means for Your Business

The third BnB didn't run a single ad to find me. I didn’t even look at their social- just found their number on their website and called. When I did peek their social they didn't have a sophisticated content strategy or a perfectly optimized Instagram grid. They just showed up so beautifully for the people before me that the trail led right to their door.

That's the whole lesson. That's the whole thing.

So here's what I want you to sit with after you finish reading this.

Who in your world deserves a referral from you right now? Not a tag, not a vague oh you should check her out — but a real, intentional, hand-on-the-shoulder introduction. The kind where you say I trust this person, and I think you need them. Those referrals change businesses. Sometimes they change lives.

Are you the kind of business that someone feels proud to refer? This is the harder question. Are you showing up so completely, so generously, so memorably that the trail naturally leads to your door? If the answer isn't an immediate yes, that's your work right now. Not a new funnel. Not a new platform. Just showing up more fully in the work you're already doing.

And are you thanking the people who refer you? Seriously. When did you last reach out to someone who sent you a client, a customer, a connection — and genuinely thank them? Not a quick DM. A real thank you. Make it a practice. Make it a ritual.

Because the algorithm changes. The ads get more expensive. The noise gets louder. But the referral? That's been working since before the internet, before social media, before any of this. It worked for two BnBs in Taos on a spontaneous weekend. It'll work for you on a Tuesday.

The third BnB didn't find me. The experience of the first two led me there.

That's it. That's the whole marketing strategy.

Show up fully. Make/Accept a Phone call. Be generous with your referrals. Trust that the right people are always finding their way to you — sometimes they just need two stops first.

Are you building a referral culture in your business — or leaving it to chance? I'd love to hear how referrals have shown up for you. Drop a comment below or send me a message.

2026 Super Bowl Commercials Reveal Our Obsession With Instant Gratification

Who watched the Super Bowl? 

 Don't worry—this isn't another hot take on the halftime show. But can we talk about the commercials for a second? Because I noticed something kind of wild.

As someone who works in digital marketing and social media, if the Packers aren't in the game, then I watch the Super Bowl a little differently- for the ads.

  I'm not just looking at what they're selling—I'm looking at the deeper messaging, the patterns, the cultural moment they're trying to capture. And this year? The pattern was impossible to miss.

 If you paid attention to the commercial breaks, you might have noticed a pattern I couldn't unsee:

AI → GLP-1 → Processed Food → AI → GLP-1 (in pill form) → Processed Food Delivery Service

I can't stop thinking about it.

Look, I get it. We're all busy. We're all tired. And these companies know exactly what buttons to push. That's literally what they pay millions of dollars to figure out.

 From a marketing perspective, it's actually fascinating—they're not selling products, they're selling relief from being human. And they're doing it brilliantly.

 The AI commercials were like "Why think when a computer can do it for you?" Instant creativity, instant answers, instant everything.

 Then came the weight loss drug ads—both the shots and the shiny new pills. "Why deal with all that annoying diet and exercise stuff when you can just... not?"

 And the food commercials? "Why cook when someone can bring processed, pre-made food right to your door in like 20 minutes?"

Individually, fine. Whatever. But all together? It's kind of telling us something.

We're basically being sold the idea that we should outsource everything:

• Don't want to think? → AI's got you

• Don't want to deal with your body? → There's a pill for that

• Don't want to cook? → Here's some food in a box

And honestly? I'm not even mad at it. 

These things exist for a reason. 

Sometimes you need the shortcut. 

Sometimes the shortcut is literally life-saving.

But when did we all collectively decide that doing things the "hard way" is the worst possible option?

As a marketer, I have to respect the strategy. 

They've identified real pain points and they're solving them. 

The fact that the solutions create a dependency loop? 

Well, that's just sustainable business growth, baby. (I say this with equal parts admiration and existential dread.)

That loop? It's the exact same reason so many people's marketing is completely stuck.

Think about it. Someone wants to grow their business on social media, so they:

• Use AI to write all their content → it sounds generic and gets no engagement

• Buy followers or pay for reach to compensate → vanity metrics go up, real connection goes nowhere

• Download another template pack or "done for you" content bundle → still crickets

• Buy a course promising overnight results → course sits unwatched in their inbox

• Repeat

Sound familiar? It's the same loop. 

Outsource the thinking, skip the process, wonder why nothing is working.

The brands in those Super Bowl commercials can pull it off because they have $7 million for a 30-second spot and decades of brand equity to lean on. Your small business or personal brand? You don't have that cushion. You actually have to show up as a human.

Here's the hard truth I tell my clients: there is no shortcut to an audience that actually trusts you- just showing up.

 AI can help you work faster, but it can't build a relationship on your behalf. 

A template can give you structure, but it can't give you a voice. And an algorithm can amplify your content, but only after you've put in the work to make it worth amplifying.

The dependency loop works great if you're selling the solution. It doesn't work so great if you're the one stuck inside it.

Here's what's been bugging me: when you skip the process, you miss the whole point- THE Human experience.

Cooking isn't just about getting food in your face. It's about actually knowing what you're eating, maybe sharing it with people you like, maybe not totally sucking at a basic life skill.

Working out isn't just about fitting into your jeans. It's about feeling strong, pushing yourself, proving you can do hard things.

Being quiet and thinking through a problem yourself? That's how you actually get better at thinking.

The same goes for marketing. Figuring out what to say and how to say it and who you're even talking to? That's not busywork you outsource. That's the whole foundation. Skip it and you're just spinning.

I'm not saying we need to go back to churning butter or whatever. But maybe we've swung a little too far in the "optimize all human experience" direction?

I'm not here to tell anyone what to do. Use AI. Take your meds. Order DoorDash. I do most of these things. 

But working in this industry, I've learned to ask: What story is being sold here? What cultural shift is this riding? And maybe more importantly—what are the second-order effects we're not talking about?

Here's the thing: maybe it's worth making a cup of tea and asking yourself what you're NOT willing to outsource. What do you still want to do yourself, even if it's slower or harder or less convenient?

Because honestly, in a world that's racing toward making everything instant and effortless, choosing to do something the slow way is what people don't even know they want yet and maybe one of the most rebellious things you can do.

And I don't know about you, but there's something kind of appealing and dare I say even sexy about that.

Plus, all that optimizing the human experience is  terrible for conversion rates, which as a marketer, I find oddly refreshing.

And if you were wondering or care my top commercials were:

1. Pepsi v. Coke The Choice because if the beef is back between them maybe this means the world is healing and CGI > AI IMO.

2. Budweiser American Icons Between Free Bird, the change in the sound of his hooves when the horse grows up, to the wings and jump, this gave me goosebumps and choked me up. Absolutely beautiful.

3. Goodwill Dunkin purely for the nostalgia vibes.

What To Do When The Casual Scroll Doesn't Exist And Social Media Stops Converting

Let's talk about the thing nobody wants to say out loud:

Social media isn't working the way it used to.

And I don't just mean the algorithms changed again.

I mean the entire ecosystem has fundamentally shifted.

The casual disassociate scroll? Dead.

That dreamy 2019 era when people would lazily browse Instagram, stumble upon your post, and think "oh that's cute, I'll buy that"?

Gone. Buried. Not coming back.

Welcome Instead To The Anxiety Feed.

Here's what social media actually is now:

You open the app "just to check real quick" and immediately get hit with:

• Breaking news (bad)

• A thirst trap

• An ad for something you don't need

• Someone's rage-fueled hot take

• "Sensitive content" warning

• Another ad

• A fear-mongering carousel from a suggested

• Nail-tapping affiliate link

• Something that makes you feel inadequate

• A dog video (the only good thing)

• Three more ads

And somewhere in that chaos, you're supposed to also see the pottery business you followed last month and feel inspired to buy a $47 mug?

Yeah. That's not happening.

Business social has stopped working the way it used to.

It's not you. It's not your content. It's not even the algorithm (entirely).

It's that the context has completely changed.

People aren't opening social media to discover cool products anymore.

They're opening it because:

• They're anxious and need a distraction

• They're looking for specific information

• They're doom-scrolling

• It's a compulsion they can't break

Nobody is in a "ooh, treat myself!" mindset.

They're in survival mode.

And your cute product post or service offering is competing with:

• World events

• Political discourse

• Existential dread

• AI-generated slop

• Increasingly aggressive advertising

• Everyone else also trying to sell something

Friend-Your Canva graphic about your new coaching package doesn't stand a chance against an AI model.

And the Metrics That Are Lying To You because why wouldn’t they to keep you coming back for more.

"But I'm getting engagement!"

Cool. Is it converting?

"Well, no, but my Reels are getting views!"

From who? Bots? People who watched for 2 seconds? Your ideal client or random scroll zombies?

Here's what I'm seeing across the board:

• Engagement rates: Down

• Reach: Suppressed unless you pay

• Link clicks: Abysmal

• Actual conversions from social: Vanishing

Meanwhile, business owners are spending 15+ hours a week creating content that's generating... what, exactly?

A few likes from other business owners also trying to sell things?

The Hard Truth We Need To Accept

Social media is becoming a terrible primary marketing channel for most businesses.

There. I said it.

It's still useful for:

• Staying top of mind with existing customers

• Building trust with warm leads

• Sharing proof of concept

• Community engagement

• Customer service

But as your main source of new customers? It's cooked and smells like it's starting to burn.

The platforms have become pay-to-play. The attention is fractured. The trust is eroded.

And we need to stop pretending otherwise.

So if social isn't converting anymore, where do you put your energy?

Here's what I'm seeing actually move the needle:

1. Email (Yes, Really)

The only channel you actually own. The only place where you're not competing with breaking news and thirst traps.

Build your list. Nurture it. Show up consistently.

Boring? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.

2. SEO/AIO & Organic Search

People with actual buying intent are searching their problems, not scrolling for solutions.

If you're not showing up in search and AI  results, with your blog or updated website you're invisible to people actively looking for what you offer.

3. Word Of Mouth & Referrals

The oldest marketing strategy in the book still works better than any algorithm.

Make it really easy for happy customers to send people your way.

4. Partnerships & Collaborations

Get in front of other people's audiences who already trust them.

Guest spots, affiliate relationships, co-marketing—all more effective than shouting into the void on Instagram.

5. Paid Ads (Done Right)

If you're going to spend money, spend it on actual ads with targeting and tracking, not boosting posts into the anxiety feed hoping for the best. (Pinterest surprisingly is converting)

6. Direct Outreach

DMs, emails, actual conversations with real humans.

Shocking concept: sometimes you have to actually talk to people instead of waiting for them to find you.

7. In-Person & Community

Events, pop-ups, local networking, industry gatherings.

Revolutionary idea: meeting people in real life where they can see, touch, and experience what you do.

But I've Built My Whole Business On Social!

I know- me to. And I'm not saying delete everything and disappear.

I'm saying it's time to diversify your strategy before we ruin the internet forever.

It's time to start thinking of social media like this:

It's the storefront window, not the entire store.

People might discover you there. They might peek in. But the actual buying? The relationship building? The trust?

That's happening somewhere else.

Here's what actually makes sense now:

Stop treating social like a conversion tool.

Start treating it like:

• A brand awareness channel

• A way to stay top-of-mind

• A place to showcase social proof

• A customer service touchpoint

• A research tool to understand your audience

Then build your actual marketing strategy off-platform.

Use social to drive people to:

• Your email list (where you can actually nurture them)

• Your website (where they can learn more and buy)

• Your podcast/blog (where you build authority)

• A DM conversation (where you can qualify and convert)

Social is the gateway drug, not the main event.

What This Is Going To Look Like In Practice

Instead of:

• Posting 5x a day hoping something sticks

• Creating 47 Reels a week

• Obsessing over the algorithm

• Burning yourself out for vanity metrics

Try:

• 2-3 quality posts per week on your chosen platforms

• Every post has ONE clear call-to-action (usually to join your email list)

• Spend the time you save on actual marketing that converts

• Build relationships in DMs with warm leads

• Create valuable content on channels you own (email, blog, podcast)

The Question You Should Be Asking

Not "How do I get this post to go viral?"

But "How do I build a business that isn't dependent on platforms I don't control?"

Because here's the reality:

• Instagram could change the algorithm tomorrow

• People are deleting their TikTok accounts

• Any platform could decide to charge for reach

And then what?

Your Business Needs A Backup Plan

If this plaform disappeared tomorrow, how would you reach your customers?

If you don't have a good answer to that question, you don't have a marketing strategy. You have a dependency.

And that's terrifying.

But….

Here's what happens when you stop trying to make social media your entire business:

You breathe easier because you're not chasing an algorithm.

You create better work because you're not churning out content for the void.

You build real relationships because you're focusing on connection over reach.

You make more money because you're investing in channels that actually convert.

You enjoy your business again because you're not constantly performing for strangers.

The casual scroll is dead.

And no amount of "hacks" or "strategies" or "posting at the right time" is going to change that.

The platform users have fundamentally shifted.

So stop fighting it.

Stop pouring all your energy into a channel that's not delivering results.

Start building a marketing strategy that doesn't rely on the emotions of men who own platforms.

Diversify. Own your channels. Build real relationships.

Your business—and your mental health—will thank you.

And if you need help you know how to get a hold of me.

Most Businesses Don't Need More Content. They Need Fewer Channels.

Let me guess what your content calendar looks like right now:

• Instagram feed posts

• Instagram Stories

• Instagram Reels

• TikTok

• LinkedIn posts

• LinkedIn articles

• LinkedIn newsletters

• Facebook (because "our audience is still there")

• YouTube

• YouTube Shorts

• Twitter/X (maybe?)

• Threads (remember Threads?)

• Pinterest

• Email newsletter

• Blog posts

• Podcast (that you haven't recorded in three months)

Oh, and you're supposed to be "repurposing" all of this across platforms while also being "authentic" and "showing up consistently."

No wonder you're exhausted.

I'm exhausted for you and....

You’ve been sold a lie.

When I first meet with a new social strategic client the platform talk comes up almost immediatly. I ask how many platforms they are on and then I follow up with what platforms do you actually like to scroll and be on?

Because here’s the truth your businesses doesn’t need more and better content. You need fewer channels.

Somewhere along the way, we collectively decided that being everywhere = being successful.

That if you're not on every platform, optimizing every algorithm, posting at the "right" times across all channels, you're leaving money on the table.

That more visibility automatically equals more revenue.

And on that I call BS.

Because here's what actually happens when you try to be everywhere:

• You're mediocre everywhere instead of excellent somewhere.

• Your messaging gets diluted across platforms.

• You resent the work instead of enjoying it.

• You're reactive instead of strategic.

• You burn out trying to keep up.

• Your audience gets confused about where to actually find you.

You're not building a business. You're building a content hamster wheel.

When I tell people to pick two platforms and do them well they are almost always shocked.

I know a business owner who only uses email and Instagram for marketing.

That's it.

No TikTok. No LinkedIn. No YouTube. No Pinterest. No podcast. No blog.

Just email and Instagram.

And she's running a six-figure business.

Why? Because she's really good at those two channels. She knows them inside and out. She enjoys showing up there. Her audience knows exactly where to find her. Because that's only where she is.

She's not spreading herself thin trying to game seven different algorithms. She's going deep instead of wide.

She trained people to find her where she's at not where they're at.

I might be the only one who will every tell you this but...

You do not have to be on every platform.

You only have to be on the ones that make sense.

And the ones you enjoy.

Because if you are not only your business's CEO but also as the head of marketing you have to enjoy tapping onto the social platforms.

You do not have to have a TikTok just because "that's where the attention is."

You do not have to force yourself to do Reels if you hate making Reels.

You do not have to write LinkedIn think-pieces if LinkedIn makes you want to throw your laptop out the window.

You do not have to have a podcast, a YouTube channel, AND a blog.

You can pick 1-3 channels and be done.

Revolutionary, I know.

And I already know your next question...

So how do you actually decide what platforms to be on?

Stop asking "Where is my audience?" and start asking better questions:

1. Where do I actually enjoy showing up?

If you dread opening the app, that's your sign. Life is too short to force yourself to create short form on TikTok if it makes you feel dead inside. And eventually people- they will be able to tell you dread opening an app.

2. Where do my people actually want to hear from me?

Not where the gurus say they should be. Where do your people actually hang out and engage? This is a great time to check your platforms analytics because the people are actually telling you if they are engaging/seeing your content or not. You don't have to guess the numbers already exist.

3. What format plays to my strengths?

Are you a writer? Maybe email and LinkedIn. Are you visual? Maybe Instagram and Pinterest. Do you love talking? Maybe a podcast, Youtube and Instagram Stories.

4. What can I sustain long-term?

Not in a motivated season. Not when you hire help. Right now, today, with your current capacity—what can you actually maintain without burning out?

You know what Happens When You Go All-In On Fewer Channels?

Magic. That's what happens.

When you stop trying to be everywhere and commit to being excellent somewhere, here's what shifts:

Your content gets better because you're not spreading yourself thin.

Your audience grows faster because you're consistent and present.

You actually enjoy the work because you're not forcing formats that drain you.

Your messaging gets clearer because you're not trying to translate it across 47 platforms speak.

You have time to actually run your business instead of just creating content about your business.

You build real relationships instead of just chasing vanity metrics.

But then eventually the FOMO and Guilt will set in…

You'll email me "But what if I'm missing out on customers on TikTok?"

Maybe you are.

And that's ok.

Because you're also missing out on customers who only shop in person if you're online only. And customers who only find businesses through word-of-mouth. And customers in countries you don't ship to.

You cannot be everything to everyone.

And trying to be is what's killing your creativity, your energy, and honestly, your results.

Here it is the secret sauce strategy:

Pick 1-3 channels maximum. (Email is a non-negiotable channel)

Go deep.

Get really, really good at them.

Build an email list (yes, you still need this—it's the only channel you actually own and a must in the Maven way of doing marketing).

Show up consistently.

That's it.

That's the strategy.

It's not sexy. It's not complicated. It won't make a good LinkedIn carousel.

But it works.

So here's your homework:

Step 1: Look at all the platforms you're currently trying to maintain.

Step 2: Ask yourself honestly: "Which of these am I only doing because I think I'm supposed to?"

Step 3: Delete those apps from your phone.

Step 4: Pick the 1-3 channels where you actually want to show up.

Step 5: Go all-in on those.

No guilt. No FOMO. No "but everyone says I should be on X platform."

Just you, your people, and the channels that actually light you up.

That's it. That's the secret sauce.

Message me when you're ready to get started- my inbox is open 24/7 365.