Evening/Afternoon/Morning, beautiful people.

This week’s entry is three stories from three parts of my life that ended up connecting in ways I didn’t expect over the last couple of weeks.

1. On leaving one house, moving into another, and everything that follows you from room to room.

2. On how I actually think about posting on LinkedIn and how I’ve grown to 60,000 followers there without losing my job, sanity, or voice.

3. On stories, scars, leadership, and what I learned talking with Finn.a

It’s what this newsletter is all about, slowing down long enough to pay attention to the conversations and life moments, because they teach you something you didn’t quite realize you were learning.

Let’s get into it.

♥️ kyle

Personal Note: Life Never Stops Moving

Have you ever stood in the middle of an empty house and just listened? Everything feels hollow and sad… maybe even forlorn.

The empty walls, the low hum of a fridge you’ve hated since you bought it, the click of the heater kicking on… the creaks after almost a hundred years of strain (yep, we live in old homes). 

Dust drifting through the sunlight and settling onto a floor that used to be covered in shoes, toys, backpacks, and chaos.

A whole room stripped of the clutter of life.

It’s a strange feeling to stand in a space that used to hold so much of you, and that’s where this week’s newsletter begins (brand budgeting tips come later). The Lacy family moved earlier this week. Same neighborhood, new street. New walls to fill.

It’s an odd feeling, and the first topic for this week’s newsletter, because the Lacy family moved to a new home earlier this month. 

A couple of weeks ago, I stopped by the old house to finish up some odds and ends, and for a second, I forgot that it was no longer ours. It’s an odd feeling. I was strangely disconnected from a home I had lived in for over 8 years. 

It wasn’t just physically empty. It was void of the most important part of any home, the people. 

Quick shout-out: thank g-o-d for my wife. She spent hours moving the last random boxes, gear, cleaning equipment, three Pokémon cards, and much more from one house to the other. She cares deeply about others, and it showed in how she prepared our old home for its next owners. I’m pretty sure this is their first home. I know they’ll walk in and see the possibilities. 

But back to that empty room.

There was a heaviness to the house, almost a sadness. No, forlorn is a better word. Forlorn without the clutter we always complained about. The penny flooring (worn down by nearly a century of families) suddenly looked older, as if exhaling after holding up so much life. 

I walked slowly to the back, my footsteps echoing off the empty walls, and stood where the wrestling matches happened. I could practically hear the laughter, the thud of small bodies launching themselves at me with zero regard for safety (mine in particular). I could picture the stairwell arguments with me trying to sound like an adult, the kids screaming or negotiating their case. Not my best moments, but they happened. They mattered.

I could hear the shower turning on… the splash of bath water. The “I’m done now!” yelled down the same stairwell. I swear I could smell the takeout Thai, the croissants rising in the oven on rush school mornings. I could hear the screams after a Colts touchdown and the wails after every missed third down.

Every version of us was still in that room. If I quieted my mind, I could hear all the “Just one more minute” pleas, the books read, the board games played, the sleepovers where we invited too many kids, the backyard parties where we packed too many people into too small a space.

Was I mourning? Maybe. Or maybe I was just honoring a place that held nearly a decade of our lives.

So I took a breath. And I smiled. Because this isn’t an ending, it’s another beginning. A continuation of everything good and everything messy. A transition from one structure to another. 

And the new house (right now empty in its own way) will fill up too. With more laughter. More arguments. More late-night sleepovers. More friend-filled parties. More hockey bags. More footballs. More celebrations. More life.

I’m writing this in an empty dining room at a plastic folding table, blowing my nose because I didn’t expect the tears but they flowed. And it felt nice.

Here’s to the next decade under new walls. 

And in appreciation of the delicious turkey some of us enjoyed this week, I’m thankful for every one of you. May your holidays be bright and full of memories. 

On How I Grew to 60,000 LinkedIn Followers (Without Growth Hacking)

If you want a super tactical “17-step LinkedIn growth system,” you’re going to hate this.

I’ve said for years, “I don’t have a process for my LinkedIn behavior. I just go where the LinkedIn spirits lead me.” And I know it’s frustrated a few of you. So, Finn Thormeier took it upon himself to interview me to figure it out. 

And it’s the same way you build anything meaningful: slow, repetitively, and in public as you are comfortable with. 

And I’m old. I’ve been posting online since the days of Geocities, AOL, MSN Messenger, and Yahoo Chat, with an honorable mention to the later stages of MySpace, Friendfeed, and Facebook.

I guess you can count Millennials lucky to have grown up in the age of AOL, the advent of the Internet, and the dark reaches of Yahoo Chat. We were forged in the first era of online communication. We grew up learning to express ourselves in writing. 

I even wrote a book about it in 2010 called “Personal Branding.” I’ve seen it all, every platform, every strategy, every failed attempt to corral the masses.

And after talking through all of this with Finn on his Executive Brand podcast, I realized my “system” is actually pretty simple.

Here’s how I got here and how I think about LinkedIn as a CMO at a public software company.

1. Post a lot, for a long time (eyeroll) 

I try to post 5–6 times per week. The number is irrelevant; it’s more about building a habit. And I’ve been doing it (off and on) for about 20 years. 

And most people would like LinkedIn to be coin-operated, put content in, get leads or viral content out.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. No matter what the LinkedIn bro-gurus are telling you. It just doesn’t work. Like anything, repetition pays compounding interest: 

• Show up often

• Show up consistently

• Stay in the game long enough to get interesting

You can’t compress that into a 30-day content sprint, no matter what your consultant is telling you.

2. Pick a few themes and stay there

I don’t write about everything. I write about things I actually care about and live with daily. My recurring themes:

• Brand & experiences: Great (and terrible) brand touchpoints, direct mail, events, creative.

• Being a dad and raising a family: The stuff parenting teaches me about leadership and vice versa.

• Running a marketing team: Efficiency, creative production, GTM structure, what’s working and what isn’t.

• Outbound and buying experiences: Bad outbound, confusing websites, generic AI emails. I’m a student of buyer behavior, so I talk about it.

Those themes show up in my 1:1s, my team meetings, and my life. That makes them a lot easier to write about. If you’re an executive and don’t know where to start, ask yourself: “What do people come to me for advice on, over and over again?”

Go from there. 

3. Use your workday as your content engine

I’ll rarely sit down and “brainstorm content” for the week. It’s happened a few times, but rarely. I try to steal as much inspiration as possible from my calendar.

You know that beautiful, multi-colored ruler of our lives.

Two simple ways to use your meetings:

1. Transcripts → AI → topics I record my 1:1s and some meetings with Granola. Then I drop four transcripts at a time into GPT and ask: “What themes from this would make good LinkedIn posts, based on what you know I care about?”
   
   Patterns emerge from the calls: non-violent communication, “share before ready,” org design, leadership lessons. Those become drafts to posts. 

2. Voice notes in the moment: I’ll come out of a meeting, pull over in the car, or walk out of a conference booth and talk straight into GPT or an email:
   
   “Here’s an idea. I’m not sure if it’s good, but I want to capture it.” I keep a folder of these. When I need to post, I go back and pull from the pile.

4. Write your own words (even if AI gives you a draft)

I use GPT a lot, but not to “do my LinkedIn for me.” I find it disingenuous to copy and paste from immediately from GPT. Do I use the outline and drafts? Of course. But I’m rewriting most things because it’s interesting content. 

I don’t want to phone in engaging content. I’d rather ask for structure, bullet points, or ways to frame the post or discussion. I’ll let it draft a post and mostly rewrite 90% of it.

And it’s okay to scrap something that may not sound like you (because it usually doesn’t). If it feels forced, you should try again. 

You can feel it when something sounds like AI slop. So can everyone else. 

The robots can help with clarity, organization, and direction, but not your voice. Your voice is what matters. 

5. Ignore reach as your primary metric

This is the part people hate: I DO NOT use impressions or reach as the reason to post.

I don’t think, “My numbers are down, so what’s the point?” I still hear about throttling and algorithm changes in group chats. I just… don’t change much in response.

Why? Because LinkedIn serves me in three ways that have nothing to do with virality:

1. Network – I’ve built a massive, helpful network I can tap for advice, hiring, and intros.

2. Communication – My team, peers, execs, and board read my posts. It’s an internal comms channel.

3. Learning – Writing and shipping ideas daily forces me to get clearer, faster.

Is it nice when a post goes viral? Yes, absolutely. Is reach important to growing your following and driving business through LinkedIn? Yes. But I find it absolutely exhausting to be constantly reviewing and strategizing around an algorithm you can’t control (as much as some would like). Post what’s interesting to you. It’s most important to keep posting no matter what.  

6. Treat LinkedIn like a community, not a billboard

There’s a simple tell when someone is only there for reach: They never respond to comments. I try to reply to as many comments as I reasonably can. I also comment on 2-3 posts a day from other people. 

There’s no sophisticated targeting logic behind it. It’s whoever is in my feed saying something I find interesting. 

It matters no only because the Algorithm gods approve of it, but those comments can slowly grow your reach. Comments turn into connections, and connections turn into opportunities. :

I care a lot about the network and community aspect of LinkedIn. That’s why I’m still here.

7. Don’t be reckless, but don’t be scared

Have I posted things that got me in trouble? Yes.

• I almost got fired after tweeting about a broken TV on a Delta flight while our social software was down and they were a massive customer.

• I wrote a viral “Summer Fridays” post that ended up on CNBC and blindsided another leader internally.

Both were avoidable if I’d paused and thought about/checked:

• Customer status (check the CRM)

• Internal impact (how will my own company read this?)

There’s a difference between being honest and being careless. But most executives overcorrect. They’re so afraid of a mistake that they never say anything at all. Which isn’t helpful when trying to build a presence on social media. 

Ask yourself: 

• Would I feel comfortable with my team reading this?

• Would I feel comfortable with my CEO and board reading this?

• Have I checked whether this brand is a customer before I complain publicly (or better yet, don’t complain publicly)?

If the answer is yes, I ship it.

8. Make sure your work backs it up

I’ve received this feedback from executives multiple times. What about the optics of being super active on LinkedIn? What if peers (or even worse, your team) believe you aren’t working because you are spending too much time on our beloved LinkedIn? 

It’s an irrational fear, and guided mainly by their own self-sabotage or what I like to call, head trash. 

My answer is pretty simple: “If my goals were slipping or my CEO believed I wasn’t spending enough time on the J-O-B, I very much need to review the amount of time I’m spending on LinkedIn. Business first, LinkedIn second.”

It’s also how I discuss LinkedIn with my team. You own your career. It’s up to you to build a network of people who help drive it. Publish as much as you want, but if your content is thriving and your performance isn’t, we are going to have an issue. 

But it should help the work. LinkedIn is not my job, but it 100% is a force multiplier.

Where do you begin? Think compounding effect. 

The less-than-obvious payoff isn’t the vanity metrics, it’s the network because… 

• It’s easier to source talent (especially for marketing roles)

• My cold outreach is never cold; it’s warm.

• Network (or community) is key to building a successful career

• It surfaces a backlog of ideas for my newsletter and day-to-day

• It supports a personal brand that outlives any one role

The only “secret” is that I’ve been at this longer than most. If you’re serious about growing on LinkedIn as an executive or heck, any role, I’d start here:

1. Pick 3–4 themes tied to your actual work and life

2. Post 3–5 times per week for a year

3. Reply to comments; comment on others

4. Use your meetings as raw material

5. Let AI help you think, not pretend to be you

6. Keep publishing, even when reach dips

That’s it.

Stories, Scars, and Executive Brands: What I Learned Talking With Finn

Alright. Enough about LinkedIn. Let’s get back to the Finn interview because there are a few additional things I’d like to share from the conversation.

 When Finn invited me onto his podcast, the first thing he brought up was a book I wrote in 2010 called Branding Yourself. It’s been for-ev-er. Hearing the title out loud pulled me back to the late 2000s/early 2010s, when personal branding meant Twitter, MySpace, blogs, and LinkedIn before it became LinkedIn.

It also forced me to think about what has actually changed and what hasn’t. Because the UI and tools have changed, the rules I’ve learned over the years have not. 

The part that stayed the same is the only part that mattered then and now. The only thing that makes you unique is your story. 

If I only talk about revenue, attribution, team health, and brand, I sound like every other B2B software CMO. When I share about rebranding under impossible deadlines, parenting lessons, a broken Delta TV that almost got me fired, or all the damned head trash, it becomes mine. 

If you want to take the boring (sounds like everyone else) route, say: “We did a successful rebrand,” or “We had a great quarter,” or “We drove brand awareness.” 

BORING. Nobody cares. Nobody. Switch the damned thing up: 

• “We rebranded in six weeks with three designers on the edge of burnout.”

• “Our share of voice went up because we changed these three things in our narrative.”

• “We almost blew a quarter because of X, then fixed it with Y.

It’s unique. It’s different. It has a flow.

We also talked a lot about LinkedIn, especially as an internal communications tool. It’s been the one place that never really changed. The features come and go. They tweak the video. They change the algorithm (I guess), people complain about reach and gating content, but the purpose is the same.

LinkedIn is the old friend that never really changed.

And even more importantly, it’s a fantastic tool to use for internal communication to your team, because they are reading your posts. Hell, even your peers are reading them. Most leaders underestimate the power of LinkedIn to communicate with their teams; they look at it as a simple marketing tool. Reid would be aghast! It should also serve as a window into how you think and what you value as a leader.  

Finn asked when companies should invest in executive thought leadership. My answer was simple. Yes. It’s a great tool for hiring, recruiting, and building credibility (to name a few). People want to work for leaders they understand. They want to see how you think before they ever meet you. 

The fear that people may get poached if they become visible is a separate issue. Visibility does not create turnover. Culture does.

We got into head trash, too. People assume I worry about posting. I don’t. I’ll publish all day, even if half of it turns out to be wrong. My head trash shows up in different places. It shows up in how I think about my team, my CEO, and our board meetings. It shows up in whether I believe I am doing enough inside the company, not outside it.

And we ended by talking about this lovely newsletter. I’ve been writing Revenue Diaries almost every week for about a year now. Why? Because long-form writing forces you to slow down and think. It creates an archive of what you believe and how it changes over time. Honestly, I wish I had started it earlier.

The conversation with Finn further solidified what I believe is a competitive advantage for leaders if you own it… 

Platforms evolve. Tools change. Audiences ebb and flow. Opinions are hot and cold. What lasts is your story, your values, and the way you show up daily. 

If you keep telling the truth about what you’re learning, you will always have something worth saying.

Thanks, Finn.