Hey, it's Andy.
It's been one of those weeks.
New clients onboarding, projects mid-flight, and life carrying on around all of it, the way life does.
By Thursday, the day I'd usually sit down and write this, there was no chance.
So I didn't.
And I want to talk about why, because it sits right at the centre of how content actually works for a coaching business in 2026.
Let's get into it...
I don't stockpile newsletters
I don't write six months ahead. I don't queue editions up in advance. I won't do it, and I won't recommend it.
The reason is currency.
What I want to bring you in The Edge is what's happening now, what I've learned this week and what I've seen go right or wrong in a client's business in the last few days.
The moment you start writing into a void four months out, you lose the connection to what's actually true at the time it lands.
You end up with content that's polished, evergreen, and entirely forgettable. Generic slop - the exact thing we scroll past and unsubscribe from.
So I write close to the bone. The same week, sometimes the same day, and occasionally, like this one, the Thursday slot moves.
Why this matters more than you might think
My whole business is built on being found.
I don't run paid ads, I never have. Every enquiry that lands in my inbox comes from search, and more of it every month comes from AI.
Someone asks ChatGPT for a Kajabi expert and they end up booking a call with me.
That doesn't happen by luck. It happens because the content I publish is built on real experience, answers real questions, and reads like a human being wrote it.
My content does the lifting, and that only works if it's genuine.
The minute I start pushing out filler to hit a deadline, the whole engine wobbles, and I'm busking on a Seville street corner in July.
Seriously though, here's the point
A lot of coaches treat content like it's a calendar obligation. Tuesday post, Thursday newsletter and a Sunday reel. They feel like they gotta hit the slots and tick the boxes.
And then life gets in the way, which it does.
So the temptation is to rush something out anyway. Something quick that AI helped you knock together at 11pm. Something to keep the streak alive.
Don't.
If the only reason you're publishing is because the spreadsheet says so, you're not building authority, you're filling a quota.
Post when you can. Not when you must.
The guardrail
This isn't a free pass to disappear for six weeks.
Jules has a rule for her training, and she's a lot more disciplined about it than I am.
The rule is this:
Miss one day. Don't miss two.
Because one day off is a rest. Two days off is the start of a habit going sideways. Three days off and you're rebuilding the whole thing from scratch.
The same applies to your content. Miss a Thursday because the world got in the way, fine. Be back the following Thursday with something genuine.
What you're protecting isn't the cadence. It's the standard.
The line that matters
Generic content is worse than no content. Because generic content tells your audience you've stopped paying attention.
Quiet weeks don't damage your authority. Slop does.
AI Tip of the week
"If Claude was a person, I'd punch him. Repeatedly."
My response on Wednesday when Jules asked me how it was going with our ONE LIFE project.
Seems AI can have off days too.
To be fair to dear old 'C', my Instructions for Claude in system settings were a tad out of date. So that's this weekend's project. A fresh update on where we are with everything.
You have set up your Instructions for Claude, haven't you?
If not, hit reply and I'll send you my killer template.
Our Kajabi Life: Tiger mosquitos and a (flat) cat called Dave.
So it looks like the Universe has been stoking the summer fire.
A measly 36 degrees on Wednesday, and I'm asking, "Is that all you've got?"
Apparently not.
Because it appears that someone opened a crate full of Tiger Mosquitoes as the Hors d'oeuvres to next week's real heat wave.
Now, if you've ever met Jules, you know she's a total lady.
However, I refer to June in Spain as 'Jules' Tourette's Month'.
Let's just say, she's not a fan of the stripy little buggers, but she does seem to attract them away from me. Which is valiant.
So who the hell is Dave?
Dave is one of the three semi-stray cats we've taken under our wing at our little Spanish Casa.
The problem is, Dave is blind as a bat and deaf as a post. I think that's why he likes me.
He is a good looking cat though, which makes a case for the argument. I digress.
So on Tuesday, as Jules waved me out of our drive like a F1 lollipop girl, one of the Tigers attacked me from the air vent.
Let's just say I wasn't paying too much attention to my lovely wife frantically waving for me to stop.
Seems Dave had been on the vino tinto the night before, and was sleeping it off under the car.
Two large thuds later, and I thought we'd be needing a shovel and power hose (and a new cat).
Seems, though, Dave is built from tougher stuff, and I swear he gave me the 'middle claw' as he wandered off in the rear-view mirror.
Never a dull moment. It's a Kajabi life.
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