Yes, and it's a smaller change than it sounds. Narrowing means choosing who you say you're for, and it doesn't mean shrinking what you're able to do. I've had clients keep every skill they had and change the sentence at the top of their LinkedIn profile. Being for everyone is what makes you invisible.
Narrow who you say you're for, and leave what you're capable of doing exactly where it is.
Clients can only recognize you as the answer to a problem they've already named for themselves.
Name the one client type you want more of, in a sentence, with no hedging in it.
If you try to say you are for everyone, no one will know you are for them.
Leah Neaderthal, Smart Gets Paid
Niching down comes first and better wording comes second, because the words have nothing to attach to until you've picked the client. When a consultant can't land her message after weeks of trying, the client list underneath it is almost always the reason.
The tell is that the message stays true and stays empty. That happens when it has to cover four kinds of client at once, and a sentence built to fit all four fits none of them.
Three questions sort out which problem you have:
And a warning about the answer you're most likely to give me, because none of these is a niche:
A leader of two people and a leader of two hundred have different problems and different budgets, so pick which one you mean. Choosing an ideal client gets specific.
Being a generalist makes you harder to hire because the person deciding has to work out where you fit before they can consider you, and almost nobody does that work on your behalf. They're busy. A description they can't place gets set aside, and being set aside looks identical to being rejected from where you're standing.
Greta Hsu studied 949 US films released between 2000 and 2003 and found that films spanning more genres were rated lower by professional critics and by ordinary viewers alike. Her explanation is the part worth borrowing: multi-genre films are harder for audiences to make sense of, so they fit fewer people's tastes and appeal to fewer of them. She calls the underlying trade-off the principle of allocation.
Films are not consulting. The mechanism carries anyway, because it describes how the person deciding reads what's in front of them. Two doctors make it obvious. Both work at the same top hospital. One is in internal medicine and knows everything about the body; one is a cardiologist. If your mother has heart palpitations, you call the cardiologist, and you don't think about it for even a second.
Your range is real, and it's rarely the reason someone calls you first, because a client goes looking for help with one problem they've already named. Range is what keeps them once you're in the room. It's a poor thing to lead with, because it asks a busy person to work out which part of you they need.
Watch what happens when the client gets specific. My own before and after:
| The broad version | The specific version |
|---|---|
| You want more clients | You want to work with more of the right clients, not simply the ones who have found you so far |
| You feel uncomfortable marketing | Up to now you've gotten clients through referrals and word of mouth, and you know you should be doing something more proactive, but what |
| You want to make more money | You want to make more money, and you don't want to sacrifice yourself to get there |
The left column could be about almost any woman running a consulting business. The right column names one situation, and the woman in it recognizes herself.
There's a pricing consequence. If you try to be everything to everyone, you'll be nothing to no one, and you'll end up selling tactics. Selling tactics puts you in a bidding contest, and pricing the value of the work to your client is nearly impossible when nobody can tell what problem you solve.
Picking one type of client changes who comes to you, how hard your marketing has to work, and how much explaining you do on a first call. Those three shifts show up in that order, and the first one is the one people notice.
That last one surprises consultants who've built a business on word of mouth. A referral depends on somebody remembering you at the moment a problem comes up, and a broad description attaches to no particular moment.
My clients describe the change in almost the same words. Before, people told them they liked their website. After, women started saying it felt like someone had read their mind. One of my podcast guests spent months revising and landed on a value statement she loved (my Smart Gets Paid episode "The value of naming your niche" is her telling that story, including the bad advice that cost her time).
Here's the thing about being a generalist: it worked. In corporate, the woman who could handle anything got handed everything, and range was the asset. Nobody mentioned that the rules invert the moment clients start choosing you.
So of course narrowing feels like a loss, and the fear of missing out on work is the form it usually takes. It looks like you're being asked to hide the exact thing that got you here.
You're not. My fourth principle for this work is that specificity sells, and it sells for a reason that has nothing to do with your ability. Being clear about who you're for helps the right people know you're for them, helps them say yes, and lets you charge for the value of the outcome. If you try to be everything to everyone, you'll be nothing to no one.
And this is a choice, not a discovery. You don't sit there clicking around on the internet until an epiphany arrives. You look at the clients who lit you up, you pick, and you write it down. Version one is allowed to be wrong. Mine changed three times, publicly, and I learned more from the revisions than from any of the versions.
No, and assuming it is what makes this feel impossible. An industry is one way to be specific. A moment is another, and often a better one: the company that just lost its head of marketing, the team that has already started the work and stalled. One of my clients defined hers as insurance companies with at least one or two people doing marketing, because below that nobody was left to carry out the plan.
A long generalist history is a stronger starting position than someone new has, because you've already seen which clients went well. Long generalist stretches leave you with data most people don't have. Go through the last few years, find the projects you'd take again tomorrow, and look at what those clients had in common. You're not erasing your history; you're reading it.
No. Nothing about your entity, your name, or your existing contracts has to move. What changes is how you describe who you help, which lives in your profile, your website copy, and the way you answer the question at a networking event. My clients who did this well rewrote a few sentences and left the rest of the business alone.
Nothing, unless you decide otherwise. Existing work continues, and existing clients rarely notice that your description changed. Narrowing governs who finds you next, so it changes the front of your business and leaves the back of it alone. The clients you have now stay exactly as they were.