The amazing copywriter (and author) Andrew Boulton wrote an A-Z of his copywriting weaknesses recently, and it was annoyingly good. Then the equally fabulous Bill Hinchen (a top notch science copywriter) did the same thing for science writing, openly admitting he was “plagiarising the idea in an act of flattery (not laziness).”
So now I’m plagiarising the plagiarist. Which I think makes this twice removed from the original theft, and therefore basically legal. (Plus Andrew said it was OK, I’m not an idiot.)
Anyway. Thirty-odd years in SEO has given me plenty of material. These are all my own weaknesses – the habits I can’t break, the rabbit holes I fall down, and the things I tell clients not to do while doing them myself. Consider this a confession.
Here’s my A-Z of SEO weaknesses.
A – Algorithm anxiety (my own)
Google makes a minor update. I tell clients not to panic. I write LinkedIn posts about staying calm. Then I spend three hours checking my own rankings, refreshing Search Console, and reading every hot take from people I know are doing the same. Do as I say, not as I do.
B – Bright shiny rabbit holes
I sat down to write a title tag. Four hours later I’ve read seventeen articles about entity salience, watched a John Mueller video from 2019, and have strong opinions about something called “information gain score.” The title tag remains unwritten. I regret nothing and have learned nothing useful.
C – Caveat compulsion
“This should help your rankings, but it depends on your competitors, and the algorithm could change, and results vary, and nothing is guaranteed, and it might take months, and there are no promises, and…” I’ve hedged so hard the client has no idea if I’ve said anything useful. I have become a human disclaimer.
D – Data hoarding
I have spreadsheets from 2014 that I will never look at again. Exported reports for clients I no longer work with. Screenshots of rankings that no longer matter. Somewhere in my Google Drive is a folder called “useful stuff” containing 847 files, none of which I could describe without opening them. I keep it all, just in case.
E – Explaining too much
Client asks a simple question. I could answer in one sentence. Instead, I provide a 600-word history of how Google’s algorithm has evolved since 2011, complete with context they didn’t ask for and caveats they don’t need. Their eyes glaze over. I keep talking. This is my curse.
F – Forum lurking
I should be doing client work. Instead, I’m reading a Reddit thread about whether Google still uses PageRank internally, getting increasingly annoyed at someone called TechBro_SEO_King who is confidently wrong about everything. I will not reply. I will not reply. I reply.
G – GEO grudges
Someone mentions GEO and I lose forty-five minutes of my day writing a rant about it. I’ve written blog posts about it. LinkedIn posts about it. I’ve brought it up at dinner parties where nobody asked. It’s not a productive use of my time but I physically cannot let it go. SEO, innit.
H – Horoscope checking (Search Console edition)
First thing every morning. Last thing every night. Sometimes at 2am when I can’t sleep. I check Search Console like other people check their horoscope, hoping today’s numbers will tell me something meaningful about my future. They rarely do. I check again anyway.
I – Imposter syndrome
Thirty years of experience. Exposed more SEO bollocks than I can count. Helped countless businesses rank and get enquiries. And yet, at least once a month, I read something online and think “maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong and everyone’s about to find out.” Nobody has found out yet. The fear remains.
J – Jargon hypocrisy
I complain constantly about SEO jargon. I’ve written posts about it. I roll my eyes when people say “topical authority” in meetings. Then I catch myself saying “search intent” and “crawl budget” like normal humans would understand what I’m on about. The jargon is coming from inside the house.
K – Keyboard warrior tendencies
Someone on LinkedIn posts something wrong about SEO. I could scroll past. I could let it go. I could remember that arguing with strangers online has never once improved my life or my business. Instead, I spend twenty minutes crafting a reply that is technically polite but spiritually devastating. Then I refresh for an hour waiting for their response.
L – Late-night Googling
It’s 11pm. I should be asleep. But what if I just check how that one client is ranking? And while I’m there, I might as well look at their competitors. And actually, I’ve always wondered what happens if you search this specific phrase from an incognito window in a different browser. It’s now 1am. I have achieved nothing.
M – Metrics obsession
I know that obsessing over daily ranking fluctuations is pointless. I tell clients this all the time. Very wise. Very professional. Then I notice my own site dropped from position 4 to position 6 and I spiral into an hour-long investigation involving three different rank tracking tools and some light catastrophising.
N – Never finishing the audit
I start a site audit. I find one issue. That issue leads to another issue. That leads to a question I need to research. Three hours later, the audit document is still on section two and I’ve disappeared down a technical SEO rabbit hole that has nothing to do with what the client actually needs. Thorough? Yes. Efficient? Absolutely not.
O – Over-explaining the obvious
“So the reason your page about accounting services should mention accounting is because Google needs to understand what the page is about.”
They know this. I know they know this. But I’ve already started the sentence and now I can’t stop. I watch myself explain basic concepts to intelligent adults like I’m narrating a children’s television programme. They’re very patient with me.
P – Perfectionist paralysis
The blog post is 95% done. It’s good. It could go live. But what if I just tweak this one paragraph? And maybe that heading could be better. And actually, should I restructure the whole thing? Four days later, the post remains unpublished and I’ve rewritten the opening sentence eleven times. It’s still not quite right.
Q – Quote hoarding
Every time a Googler says something interesting, I screenshot it. John Mueller tweets? Screenshot. Danny Sullivan on a podcast? Screenshot. Gary Illyes makes a joke I don’t fully understand? Believe it or not, screenshot. I have folders full of these. I have never once gone back to reference them. The hoarding continues.
R – Rant momentum
Someone asks a simple question about SEO. I start answering. Somewhere around minute seven, I realise I’ve veered into a passionate monologue about something only tangentially related, and the person who asked is nodding politely while clearly wishing they’d never brought it up. I see this happening. I cannot stop it.
S – Scope creep (self-inflicted)
“I’ll just quickly check one more thing.” Famous last words. The project was supposed to take two hours. It’s now taken six because I kept finding things that weren’t strictly necessary but felt important at the time. I’ve over-delivered massively. The client didn’t ask for any of it. My invoicing remains the same.
T – Tool addiction
I don’t need another SEO tool. I have seventeen already. But this one has a feature that the others don’t, and it’s only £49 a month, and I’ll definitely use it regularly, and… I now pay for tools I haven’t logged into since March 2023. The guilt compounds monthly.
U – Unfinished drafts folder
There’s a folder on my desktop called “blog ideas.” It contains 143 half-written posts, some dating back to 2014. Each one felt urgent at the time. Each one remains 60% complete. I add new drafts regularly. I finish none of them. The folder grows. I pretend it doesn’t exist.
V – Vanity Googling
I search my own name. I search my business name. I search phrases I hope I rank for. I do this far more often than I would ever admit publicly. It’s not productive. It’s not even useful information. But the dopamine hit when I see myself on page one remains undefeated.
W – Wikipedia wandering
I needed to check one small fact for a client’s content. Forty-five minutes later, I’m reading about the history of the printing press and have seventeen browser tabs open, none of which are relevant to the task at hand. The client’s content remains unfinished. I now know a lot about Gutenberg.
X – XML sitemap anxiety
Submitted the sitemap. Google says it’s fine. Search Console shows no errors. And yet I still check it periodically, convinced something is silently wrong and I just haven’t found it yet. Nothing is wrong. I check again.
Y – YouTube rabbit holes
I click on one SEO video. Just one. To check something specific. Ninety minutes later I’ve watched a ranking factors debate from 2022, a technical SEO deep-dive I didn’t need, and someone’s hot take that made me angry. The specific thing I needed to check? Still unchecked.
Z – Zen state (never achieved)
I’ve read about the SEO professionals who batch their tasks, protect their focus time, and approach algorithm updates with calm detachment. I am not one of them. I check things compulsively, context-switch constantly, and respond to Google announcements like a meerkat hearing a loud noise. Inner peace remains elusive. Physician, heal thyself.
The good news? Despite all of the above, I still get results. Turns out you can be a hypocritical, rabbit-hole-diving, tool-hoarding mess and still know how to get a B2B website ranking.
If you want someone who’s honest about their flaws rather than pretending to have it all figured out, let’s talk.
