Zoë Condon, Z List Media

How to Explain What You Do in One Sentence

September 28, 2026

To explain what you do in one sentence, decide who it's for and what changes for them, then say it in words a stranger would use. Four checks tell you whether it travels: a stranger gets every word, there's a change in it, there's a someone in it, and someone else could repeat it tomorrow.

Someone asks what you do, and you hear yourself taking the long way round.

You open with the industry, then add the caveat, then the caveat to the caveat, and somewhere in there the other person's eyes go to the middle distance. You know exactly what you do. The sentence just hasn't caught up with you yet.

Why is it hard to explain what you do?

Everyone treats this as a copywriting job. Sit down with a coffee, find better adjectives, come out with something that sings. Then it lands flat again and the words get the blame.

The words are rarely the issue. What's missing is a decision. A sentence can only be short if you've settled who it's for and what you're leaving out, and most founders haven't settled either, because narrowing feels like turning work away. So the sentence stretches to keep everyone in the room, and a sentence built to keep everyone lands on nobody.

That's what messaging friction is. Not a vocabulary shortage, an undecided business showing through the language.

Why the formula pitch doesn't travel

You've met the template. I help [who] to [do the thing] so they can [outcome]. It's everywhere because it's teachable, and it hands every person who uses it more or less the same sentence.

Two things go wrong with it. It opens with you, so the first word your listener hears is about the wrong person, and that last slot fills up with something enormous and unarguable, like freedom or confidence or scale, because the template leaves a gap and abstraction is the cheapest thing to put in a gap.

The small, specific version outperforms it every time. Small and specific is what people retain, and retention is the only route by which your sentence ever gets said out loud by someone who isn't you.

THE ONE SENTENCE▼▼▼
0 / 4

▶ TYPE YOURS IN AND WATCH IT GET MARKED

Say what you do, the way you'd say it out loud.

Not the polished website version. The one you'd give someone at a barbecue. It runs in your browser and goes nowhere.

·

THE STRANGER

Every word has to be one your neighbour uses.

·

THE CHANGE

Something has to be different afterwards, and you have to name it.

·

THE SOMEONE

A real person has to be in it, specific enough to picture.

·

THE REPEAT

Short enough that someone else can say it for you tomorrow.

THE READType something in and this will mark it against the four things that decide whether a sentence travels.
GET MINE SORTED · $747

Four checks, marked live. It can't tell whether your sentence is true, only whether it survives being heard once and repeated by someone who doesn't work with you.

How do you know if your one sentence works?

Would a stranger get every word

Your industry has a private vocabulary and it's invisible from the inside. Holistic, aligned, bespoke, strategic, curated. They feel precise to the person who chose them and they arrive as weather. If a word needs a second sentence to explain it, that word is costing you the first one.

Is there a change in it

Most sentences name a category. I'm a bookkeeper, I run a studio, I'm a brand strategist. All true, and none of it says what's different afterwards. Finish the line "and then they can" out loud, and whatever comes out has a stronger claim on the sentence than your job title does.

Is there a someone in it

Businesses, brands, clients, people. Those are placeholders sitting where a person should be. Name the trade, or the stage they're at, or the room they're standing in, and the right reader recognises herself before she reaches the full stop.

Could someone else repeat it tomorrow

This is the check that decides it and the one nobody runs. Your sentence doesn't have to convince the person in front of you. It has to survive being carried secondhand, by someone who half remembers you, to the person who actually needs you. Past about twenty words it won't make that trip.

The only sentence that grows a business is one somebody else can repeat

Everything else needs you in the room to deliver it, which caps the whole thing at how many rooms you can be in.

Three that got shorter

Real shapes, details changed. Watch what leaves.

The bookkeeper

She had: "I provide holistic financial management solutions for small businesses, giving owners clarity and peace of mind." Twenty words that could sit on ten thousand websites. What she meant, once she said it to me plainly, was that her clients are tradies who hate paperwork and she gets their books straight so they stop dreading the mail.

She landed on: "I keep tradies' books straight so they stop dreading the mail." Eleven words, one clear person, one thing that changes, and a detail so specific it makes people laugh in recognition.

The photographer

She had: "Capturing authentic moments and telling your story through timeless imagery." Lovely, and interchangeable with every photographer in the country. The thing that made her different was that she shoots families with small children and nobody has to behave.

She landed on: "I photograph families with little kids, and nobody has to behave." The parents who've been dreading a shoot book her on that line alone.

The consultant

He had: "I partner with ambitious founders to unlock scalable growth through strategic clarity." Every word in it is a word about words. When I asked what he actually does on a Tuesday, he said he sits with people who have nine offers and helps them kill six.

He landed on: "I help founders with too many offers work out which three to keep." Same job, and now it has an edge you can catch yourself on.

Where it goes once you have it

The top of your homepage, above everything, before the photo and the welcome and the story of how you started. Your Instagram bio, in place of the three-line poem. The first line of the email when you introduce yourself to someone new.

Then the answer you give at a barbecue, which is the version that matters most of all, because that's the one your friends repeat when somebody asks them who they know.

Where this sits

Your website is Home in the Digital Triangle. Found is how strangers arrive. Seen is the relationship that runs before anyone buys anything.

The sentence is what makes Home worth arriving at. You can pour Found into a site that never says what it's for, and it drains out the bottom, which is how a business ends up with traffic and no enquiries and a growing suspicion that the problem is the algorithm.

Questions I get asked

What if I genuinely do more than one thing?

Pick the one you want more of. The sentence is a door, not an inventory, and nobody has ever walked away because a door was too narrow. The rest of your range can live on the page behind it.

Should the written version match what I say out loud?

Near enough, yes. If the written one has to be grander than the spoken one, the spoken one is the honest one and the written one is a costume. Type what you said.

How often should it change?

When the business changes, not when you get bored of it. You'll be sick of your sentence roughly eighteen months before your market has heard it once.

Want yours settled in an afternoon?

That's the first thing a Founder Deep Dive does. Ninety minutes on your business, the friction named out loud, and you leave with the sentence and the reasoning behind it. $747.

Or if it's the website you're unsure about, the Website Once-Over is one page of yours, one honest look, back to you as a clear PDF within four business days.

Back to Blog