SUBJECT LINE:
Two books. Two futures.
Picture this: A founder holding their freshly printed book. It looks professional, almost shiny. Inside, it walks through their services, showcases a few client success stories, and ties everything back to their business. It’s structured, tidy, and reads like a fancy brochure.
Now, imagine a different book. This one doesn’t just look good, it hits you in the gut. The ideas challenge your thinking. They linger in your mind long after you close the cover. You find yourself recommending it to strangers on planes or arguing about its premise at dinner parties.
Which one are you writing?
Here’s the trap: most founders dream too small when they write a book. They want something tangible to hand out at events or leave behind after a meeting. They treat it like a glorified sales pitch.
And, yes, those kinds of books can work, for a while. But there’s a fatal flaw in this approach:
The moment your business changes or fades, so does the book.
Maybe your industry evolves. Maybe your product is outdated by the next big thing. Maybe you decide to pivot or sell, or shut down. And then what? That book, the one you poured months into, becomes a relic.
The books that truly last, the ones still read and cited years later, aim higher. They’re not built around your services or your company. They’re built around ideas big enough to shape industries and change minds.
Take The Lean Startup by Eric Ries. Nobody reads it to learn about Eric’s consulting business, they read it because it revolutionized how startups operate. Or Crossing the Chasm by Geoffrey Moore. That book redefined how we think about marketing and technology adoption. These books didn’t just boost their authors’ careers, they reshaped the way people work, think, and build.
And here’s the kicker: aiming bigger isn’t just about leaving a legacy. It’s smart business. A book packed with real, transformative ideas doesn’t just attract customers, it draws in the innovators, the investors, the people who shape the future.
Here’s a real-world example.
I worked with a SaaS founder running a $12M ARR company. Their first draft looked exactly as you’d expect: a breakdown of their product, some client case studies, and industry-specific tips. It was fine.
But I asked them one question that changed everything: If your business went under tomorrow, would this book still matter?
The room went silent.
That question flipped the whole project on its head. They stopped trying to sell their software and started writing about the broken assumptions and systemic issues holding their industry back. They traded pitch-perfect product positioning for bold ideas.
When their book launched, something incredible happened. Venture capitalists started quoting it. Conference organizers reached out for keynote speaking gigs. The book wasn’t just a tool for their business, it became a rallying cry for change.
Now compare that to the founder who writes the polished sales brochure disguised as a book. Sure, they might land a client or two. They might even get a brief bump in visibility. But fast-forward five years, when the market shifts or the company is no longer trending, what happens?
Let’s be real: writing the kind of book that truly matters isn’t easy.
It’s tempting to stick with what feels safe. Write something that mirrors your website. Show off your wins. Lean into the familiar.
But the books that endure, those rare, iconic ones, don’t play it safe. They force you to wrestle with your biggest ideas. They dig into the frustrations you can’t shake, the ones nobody else seems willing to tackle.
And that kind of writing? It’s hard. It’s messy. It doesn’t come wrapped up in a neat little bow. You’ll second-guess. You’ll rewrite sentences until you hate them. But when you push through, here’s what you get:
A book that outlasts your company. A book that keeps opening doors long after your logo changes.
If you’re thinking about writing a book, ask yourself:
If my company disappeared tomorrow, would this book still matter?
Does this book challenge conventional thinking—or just reinforce what people already believe?
Will it spark conversations beyond my immediate circles—or live only in my niche market?
Am I building something timeless, or just creating another piece of marketing collateral?
The books that live on don’t peddle a product or brand. They sell ideas. They shift perspectives, start debates, and reshape industries.
So here’s the question: Is your book big enough to outlive you?
If not, maybe it’s time to rethink the focus.
What’s the one idea you can’t stop thinking about, the one problem you’re itching to solve?
I want to know. Reply to this email and tell me. I read every response.
And if this made you rethink your approach, forward it to someone else who could use the nudge. You might just spark their next big idea.
