I’m guessing we’ve all heard the business adage: “People do business with people they know, like, and trust.” It’s practically tattooed on the foreheads of networking gurus and business coaches everywhere.
But, after years of coaching writers and developing content for experts across industries, I’ve discovered there’s a critical fourth element that nobody really talks about: respect.
Without respect, the whole damn house of cards collapses.
I first encountered the “know, like, trust” trinity in Michael Port’s business-building course. The concept made sense, but as I watched talented professionals sabotage otherwise solid relationships, I noticed the missing piece. These folks might have been known, even liked and trusted, but when they shared certain information in their content, they torpedoed the respect factor.
For example… I once worked with a lawyer (let’s call him Mark because that’s the first name that popped into my head) who insisted on including his gruesome bankruptcy and third divorce in his book. Mark thought this personal disclosure, which had next to nothing to do with his content, would make him more relatable—more “known” and perhaps even more liked for his authenticity. Instead, it raised serious questions about his judgment and competence. Readers didn’t think, “Wow, what a relatable guy!” They thought, “Why on earth would I listen to let alone hire an attorney whose life is a dumpster fire?”
The respect pillar had collapsed into a pile of rubble, taking his credibility with it.
Many of us make similar mistakes in our writing, just in less dramatic ways. We either:
- Share too little, creating content that’s technically accurate but emotionally barren. (Hello, financial advisors who write like textbooks.)
- Overshare inappropriate details that undermine our professional standing. (Looking at you, life coaches who trauma-dump in blog posts.)
- Exaggerate our expertise, creating content that strains credibility. (I see you, one-year entrepreneur writing your “mastery” book.)
Hands down, I’ve been guilty of this myself, particularly line item #2. I’ve shared more bad moves and character flaws than the average bear, which occasionally made sensible people pause. I certainly picked up on some hesitation during more than one sales calls.
It’s taken years for me to figure out how to draw on my background in personal essays and craft authentic stories that reveal my character without compromising my professional standing. To have content draw to me the kind of clients I want to work with…people who already feel like they know me through my stories, like my approach, trust my authority, and respect my insights.
Because of my mistakes, I’ve grown particularly sensitive to the possible ramifications of stories, to the kind of bait one places on the hook. And, man, you so want to be cognizant of the bait you’re dropping in the water too.
Which brings to mind Barry, a consultant I once worked with, who believed likeability was everything. His drafts emphasized his willingness to “do whatever it took” to help clients succeed, “regardless of personal cost.” Rather than attracting the kind of clients he was after, this approach repelled them. The people Barry wanted to work with found him likeable enough but questioned his boundaries and expertise. After all, if he had valuable skills worth paying for, why would he essentially give them away? BTW, the people Barry was sick and tired of working with? The kind of people who never took his advice and balked at his rockbottom fees? They swam to him en masse because of that chum.
Enter stage right: strategic vulnerability—carefully chosen authentic stories that reveal character without undermining competence. This isn’t about trauma-dumping or oversharing. It’s about thoughtfully selecting experiences that illuminate your values while maintaining professional boundaries. This is a big part of the curating work I do with my writing clients.
When your content achieves all four pillars—becoming known, liked, trusted, AND respected through your words—magic happens. Price sensitivity diminishes. Marketing transforms from constant outbound effort to increasing inbound interest. The trust-building process accelerates with new prospects, not just any prospects, the kind that make your heart flutter.
Most valuably, you’re liberated from the exhausting pretense of being someone you’re not on paper. By focusing on genuine connection rather than impression management, you attract clients who value the real you.
So before you publish your next blog post, record your next video, or write your next book chapter, ask yourself: Does this content make me not just known, liked, and trusted—but also respected? At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, that fourth pillar might just be the difference between content that destroys and content that builds your business.
