For the past two months, I’ve been working with an amazing new client. For the sake of privacy, I’ll call her Lisanne.

Lisanne is a rockstar leadership coach. I mean she’s got serious chops. Thirty years’ experience, amazing credentials, a giant bag of “ninja weapons” for her clients from formal education in Psychology to Neuroscience to corporate team-building experience to certifications from the most elite and popular coaching programs and gurus. She’s been a life-long learner and performer, and her resume shows it.

This midlife woman, like so MANY that I coach for break-out brands, is literally ON. THE. VERGE. of taking her industry by storm. She is seriously PrimeTime.

But Lisanne had a problem. When it came time to take the next steps to scale her business and brand—which for her were writing a book and speaking from stage–she couldn’t tell me her core message in less than 3,500 words. Literally.

I’d say, “Lisanne, tell me what you do better than any other coach in the world.”

To which she would confidently reply, “I can take a high-performing leader to the next level.”

And, being the branding bitch that I am, I would push her further…

“Those words sound very generic to me, Lisanne. You’re selling me on the concept of coaching, in general. I want to know how YOU make that happen in a way that’s different than any other coach.”

And out would tumble the entire first chapter of War and Peace. If this were her elevator speech, you’d have to ride to the 30^th floor with her at least seven times to hear it all.

What’s more, as she was reciting it, she could FEEL that she was getting lost in the words. And it choked her up. It created a sort of panic in her. And then a feeling of insecurity and defeat.