My husband has unwittingly helped me see what it really means to have a niche in coaching and writing. In the past, I have asked him to review marketing materials as well as articles that I’m working on. He has always been polite and reserved with his input–commenting more on the grammar rather than the feel, the conciseness rather than the content.

I asked him to review an article in progress, entitled, "Ten Tips for Better Living." He came back a few minutes later with the following feedback: "It sounds like you." I looked at him, hoping to hear some type of approval that I was on the right track, that what I had to say was meaningful. "And?" "Well, your stuff all sounds the same…"

At that moment, I got it. This is a man who would not be my ideal coaching client, who would not subscribe to my newsletter, who in no way would be part of my target audience. And that’s okay. (He has often joked with me, that he doesn’t know what it is I do for a living but whatever it is, I’m the best at it.)

So as long as *somebody* is drawn to me as a coach or to my writing, that’s all that matters. (If no one was drawn to me as either a coach or a writer, I could safely assume that I’m a crummy coach and writer.) I’ve gotten plenty of feedback from others who love what I write and who love how I present myself on my website to know that I have a market. It just happens that my husband is not part of that market. I have a brand, a voice that consistently appeals to a group of people. I don’t have to appeal to anyone else. So having a niche is as much about NOT appealing to a group of people (like my husband) as it is about attracting a specific type of person.

Thanks, honey, for helping me see what it really means to have a niche.