Finding My Voice on LinkedIn: Blending Seuss-Style Creativity with Strategic Structure

I’ve been on LinkedIn for a long time. Like many professionals, I joined early in my career, but for years I barely touched it. I didn’t post. I didn’t comment. I simply watched.

From the sidelines I studied what worked and what didn’t: what felt authentic, what sparked engagement, and what came across as hollow or performative. My own engagement didn’t begin until 2019, and even then, it was periodic at best. Content creation—true, consistent posting—didn’t really begin until 2020.

That’s when I finally began to take the leap from passive observer to active contributor.

But I didn’t jump in blind. I built a foundation first: structure.

Before I ever shared a story or created something "clever," I knew I needed an anchor. Something repeatable and dependable. So, I created different frameworks: weekly cadences, seasonal themes, recurring formats. These structures weren’t necessarily flashy or creative in themselves, but they gave me something far more valuable...a rhythm. As Forbes Coaches Council puts it, “Creating repeatable, scalable content formats ensures your message is sustainable and effective.” I didn’t always know what I would say, but I knew when and how I would say it.

That structure opened the door for creativity.

In December 2021, during the holiday season, I took a different look at a familiar family favorite: How the Grinch Stole Christmas. After observing the energy on LinkedIn for years—the cheer, the connections, the skepticism—I saw shades of the Grinch in some posts and comments. There were people grumbling about too much positivity, too many feel-good posts, not enough “real work” talk. So, I wrote a parody: The Grinch Who Hated LinkedIn. It imagined a LinkedIn Grinch who scrolled with disdain, only to discover that maybe, just maybe, joy and generosity belonged on this platform too.

The post struck a chord. It was warm, funny, relatable. But more than that, it was part of a larger structure I had committed to—using Suess story as a thematic prompt to create relevant, playful, and human content.

Importantly, this was before AI tools like ChatGPT became mainstream. The rhymes, the structure, the storytelling? That was all human.

In more recent years, I’ve occasionally used AI to help brainstorm or smooth out a tricky phrase, but the core of the idea—the creative intent and emotional resonance—remains mine.

After that came Green Eggs and LinkedIn. That parody was born from conversations with peers in the multifamily space who hadn’t posted in years. “It’s been too long,” they’d say. “What do I even write?” That reluctance sounded just like Sam-I-Am’s friend—resistant, uncertain, doubtful. So, I crafted a piece encouraging people to just try. Post in a comment. Try once a week. Try in your own voice.

Again, this wasn’t random creativity. It was tied to a repeatable content series I had been developing around a familiar framework. Ann Handley nails it in Everybody Writes when she says, “Structure helps you write faster, better, and more consistently. It’s the scaffolding that lets you build your best ideas.” That scaffolding became my secret weapon.

Most recently, I tapped into There's Some Proptech in My Pocket to highlight the ever-expanding world of proptech. I watched new tools and platforms flood my LinkedIn feed: from Zillow (originally a Seuss-word) to niche property tech startups. I couldn’t help but think of Seuss’s zany household full of quirky creatures. So, I leaned into that comparison, creating a parody that encouraged readers to embrace the weird, the unfamiliar, and the abundance of innovation in our space.

All of these creative pieces are just the surface. Underneath is a disciplined process: weekly themes, seasonal series, and frameworks I can return to when inspiration wanes. It’s a model I’ve seen echoed in the work of people like Justin Welsh, whose Content OS emphasizes scalable systems that let your voice grow over time. It’s not about chasing virality. It’s about showing up consistently with something that’s truly you.

Even now, with AI tools available, I use them as companions—not as creators.

They might help me restructure a phrase or find a rhyme that fits, but the vision, the tone, the voice? That’s human. That's me.

Mark Schaefer puts it in Marketing Rebellion, “The most human company wins.” And I’ve found the same is true here: the most human content connects. Especially when it’s anchored in something solid, something intentional: like a framework that keeps you grounded and gives you permission to keep showing up.

So, if you’ve been watching LinkedIn from the sidelines like I once did, maybe it’s time to try. But don’t start with pressure to be brilliant. Start with structure. Try:

• A weekly theme (#FridayFindings, #MultifamilyMondays)

• A seasonal series tied to holidays or industry shifts

• A repeatable format like “3 Things I Noticed This Week”

• Or a creative lens—like parody—that you can revisit again and again

Let the framework do the heavy lifting. Let your voice bring the life.

Because in a world full of automation, there’s still nothing more powerful—or more connective—than content that sounds like you.