Ever notice those books stacked behind every CEO on Zoom? Perfectly organized, with covers in navy or charcoal. They're there, but can you really recall one? Probably not. And honestly, neither can most of the people who buy them.
These books come with a hefty price tag. There's a ghostwriter, an editor, a designer, and a publicist who sends out 200 copies. Three journalists respond. The founder had something real to share. Then nothing. A few LinkedIn posts during launch week. Seven glowing reviews, five from college friends. And a box of 48 copies gathering dust in the garage, always sparking a chat at Thanksgiving.
This happens a lot. Not because the material's bad. But because the book lacks a clear purpose.
The fantasy goes like this: write a book, become a thought leader, and watch as opportunities roll in. Speaking gigs, media coverage, inbound leads from folks who know and trust you before you even meet.
It's not entirely a pipe dream. Books can open these doors. But they need more than just existing.
The successful ones? They have a purpose beyond fancy writing or glossy covers. They solve a problem before a single word hits the page. Not just "build authority." Real purpose. Like: "I want CFOs at $50M manufacturing firms to read this before we chat, so I don't have to spend 40 minutes explaining how I'm different from McKinsey." That's purpose.
Many view the book as the end goal. The smart ones see it as a tool. They aim for something else: a niche audience, a stake in a new market, a way to engage prospective buyers. The book matters because it serves a purpose, even 18 months after the launch party is a distant memory.
Books that flop start backward. Someone thinks, "A book will boost my brand," gathers their best ideas, and ends up with a self-congratulatory highlight reel. Impressive, sure. But lifeless.
The question rarely asked: Who exactly is going to read this, and what should they think, feel, or do afterward? Not "business leaders." Not "entrepreneurs." A real person, their late-night worries, their $2M decision, the gripe they'd have at 3 p.m. on a sales call. Write for that person, and the book engages. Write for everyone, and it's just decor.
Another pitfall? Founders often want their book broad enough for everyone, so they strip away anything that might make it worthwhile. It becomes dull. Real authority demands a stance, sometimes a bold one. The successful books declare, "Here's what I believe, and here's why most in this industry are wrong." Those are the books quoted in meetings years later.
A book must fit into the author’s work life. Where does it come in? Is it sent out 48 hours before a crucial call to cut 20 minutes of small talk? Is it what a prospect flips through on a flight back from a conference, deciding whether to reach out? Is it why you get a keynote invite, or something sold for $30 after speaking? Without a clear role, the book drifts. Hoping for discovery isn't a plan. It's wishful thinking.
This isn't simple. Narrowing your focus feels risky. Being specific means leaving things out, and exclusion feels risky when you're footing the ghostwriter's bill.
It also takes discipline. If you have a platform, the impulse is to share everything, every insight, every framework, every lesson from two decades. Yet, impactful books say less than you might think. One well-argued idea beats nine mediocre ones.
Another truth: books take longer to bear fruit than you might expect. They're not about instant success. The book that changes your business in year three rarely tops charts at launch. It’s the one fine-tuned enough to consistently reach the right people, long after you've moved on.
Think about these before diving into or revisiting your book idea:
Define its role early. What exactly will this book do for you? "Establish authority" isn't enough. "Shorten the sales cycle with unfamiliar CFOs" is.
Target one reader, not a demographic. See them clearly, their problems, their hesitations. That’s how persuasion happens.
Take a stand. It's not just what you know. It's what you believe that could spark debate at a dinner party. That's where real influence lies.
Plan its entry point. Without a clear path to your target audience, a book is just a bound manuscript. Figure out its distribution before you finish writing.
Avoid overstuffing. Cover everything, and you'll teach nothing memorable. One strong, clear idea sticks.
If you're mulling over a book idea and any of this resonates, the vague goals, the "figure it out later" attitude, take it as a sign. It’s not a reason to give up. It’s a reason to rethink your approach.
Let me know where you're getting stuck or what you're reconsidering. And if you know a founder about to spend $40k on a book without a clear purpose, this might be worth sharing.
Best,
Mike