LinkedIn ghostwriter for founders

You've got two stories and one feed.

There's the company's — what it does, who it's for, why now. You've rehearsed that one until it's smooth. It's also the one nobody remembers, because every founder in your category has a version of it and yours is only slightly different.

Then there's yours. What you noticed that made you start. What you got badly wrong in year two. The thing you'd say to someone about to make the same decision, if they asked you privately.

That second one is the one that works. It's also the one you never post, because it feels self-indulgent and because it's harder to write.

Four audiences, one feed

Customers, obviously.

Candidates, who are reading your posts before they read the job spec, and who decide more from your feed than from your careers page.

Investors, who will scroll back eighteen months before a conversation gets serious.

And a competitor who checks every fortnight and would never admit it.

You can't segment them. Everything you publish is read by all four, which is exactly why the safe corporate version does nothing — it's written for nobody in particular, so it lands with nobody in particular.

What we actually write for founders

The decisions. Not the outcomes.

"We grew 40%" is a fact about you. Nobody can use it. "We turned down the biggest deal we'd ever been offered and here's what it cost us" is a decision, and a decision is something a reader can argue with, borrow, or steal.

The pattern you've spotted that your market hasn't named yet. Founders are usually eighteen months ahead of their own industry's conventional wisdom and don't realise it, because they assume everyone's seen what they've seen.

The thing that went wrong. Handled properly — not the LinkedIn confessional where the failure resolves into a lesson by paragraph four, which everyone can smell. Just the actual mess, and what you'd do differently.

What we won't write

No "thrilled to announce."

No fake vulnerability with a redemptive arc.

No "hot take" on whatever happened this week that you have no particular standing to comment on — the fastest way to look like you're performing rather than thinking.

And nothing you'd be uncomfortable defending out loud, because you will be asked about it out loud, usually by someone who read it three months ago and remembers it better than you do.

The fundraising question

Founders ask whether this helps with raising.

Indirectly, and slower than you'd like. An investor who's been reading your thinking for a year arrives at the first meeting already half-convinced, and the meeting is about terms rather than about whether you're any good.

An investor who finds your feed the week you start raising sees a feed that started the week you started raising. That reads as exactly what it is.

Which is the argument for starting when you don't need it.

How it works

A conversation with Peter once a week. No brief, no content calendar, no homework. You talk about what's actually happening — the deal that stalled, the hire that didn't work, the thing a customer said that you haven't stopped thinking about.

We find the argument underneath it. We write it. Naghmeh edits it before it reaches you.

Nothing publishes without your yes.

The Writing Partnership starts at £3,500 a month. Three months minimum, then month to month. We take five clients at a time and there is no junior — that's the whole company.