If you looked at my website right now, you’d probably think I built it backward—and honestly, you’d be right.
Most people start building a website with the homepage. They map out services, polish their offers, build the structure, and then—when everything looks “ready”—they add a blog.
I did the opposite.
I started with the words.
Because before I could design the big picture, I had to find my voice again.
When You’re Great at Seeing Other People’s Vision (and Can’t See Your Own)
It’s funny how easy it is to see the story in someone else’s work. To look at their brand and instinctively know what’s missing or what needs clarity.
I do it all the time. It’s what I do—help people connect their beauty and strategy in a way that feels intentional and complete.
But when it came to building my own site, I hit a wall.
Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I had too much to say.
I have years’ worth of ideas, lessons, and observations tucked away—thoughts about design, SEO, creative burnout, performative luxury, all of it. Trying to contain all of that in a neat navigation bar felt impossible.
So instead, I wrote.
This realization reminded me of something I wrote in The Moment a Creative Stops Creating, about how easy it is to get stuck curating what worked instead of creating what’s next.
The Blog Became the Blueprint
I didn’t realize it at first, but the blog became the foundation for everything else.
Each post helped me uncover a little more of what I actually believe, what I want to teach, and who I want to reach.
It’s through writing that I’ve found the language that makes my brand feel like me.
The blog has given shape to my services, my offers, and even my visual direction.
It’s where I test ideas, stretch my perspective, and see what resonates.
And honestly, it’s made me better at what I do for others—because I’ve lived the creative chaos firsthand.
I’ve seen this same pattern in so many creative businesses, which I touched on in Why Small Businesses Need a Website — clarity doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from starting somewhere.
When Your Work Doesn’t Fit Neatly Into a List
Every time I sit down to “work on my website,” I end up writing another blog post instead.
Not because I’m avoiding the hard stuff (though maybe a little), but because the moment I try to box up what I do, I realize how much of it depends on the person in front of me.
I can list the services—SEO audits, Showit builds, Dubsado setups, content strategy—but that’s not the work.
The work is in listening. Translating. Seeing the big picture.
Helping someone connect the dots between where they are, where they want to be, and what’s actually holding them back.
It’s rarely just about SEO. Or websites. Or copy.
It’s about clarity. Confidence. And creating something that feels like them again.
And that’s hard to package into bullet points.
So I write. I share what I know in a way that people can find themselves in the words.
Because if they can see themselves here—if they can see that I understand the messy, in-between part—they’ll trust that I can help them through it, too.
Maybe the truth is, I’m not just building a website.
I’m building the kind of space I wish existed when I was trying to figure all this out.
That desire to bridge empathy and strategy is also what inspired Quietly Unforgettable — my ongoing reminder that quiet, intentional impact often speaks the loudest.
Building in Public (and Learning to Be Okay With It)
I used to think a site had to be “done” before it was worth sharing.
But lately, I’ve been realizing that showing the process—the messy middle—is actually part of the story.
There’s something honest about letting your brand grow in public.
It’s proof that you’re not static, that you’re still creating, refining, and staying curious.
That’s what I tell my clients all the time: clarity doesn’t come from waiting until everything’s perfect.
It comes from building.
From publishing, experimenting, iterating—then refining from there.
So if my homepage feels a little bare right now, that’s okay.
Because the words are already building the structure that will come next.
It’s the same principle behind my SEO & Strategy Services—the work doesn’t start when everything’s finished; it starts when you begin showing up consistently.
The Beauty of Backward
Maybe I didn’t start backward after all.
Maybe I just started where the story was loudest—with the words.
Every post has helped me move a little closer to the version of LBC Digital I’ve been dreaming up in my head.
And maybe that’s the most authentic way to build anything: not from the outside in, but from the inside out.
Because when the story is right, the structure will follow.
Curious how to check if your own schema is working? Use Google’s Rich Results Test to see what your site is showing to search engines.
