Why I Write

Financial content creators became popular when I was in university. ZeroHedge was (and still is) THE seductive doomsaying financial content machine. Coming out of the Great Financial Crisis, I read every single post they wrote, often twice. Like so many others, I thought they were the only honest voice in finance and investing (they weren’t and not by a long shot). My goodness pessimism is seductive.

Around midway through my job in Toronto, a colleague forwarded me a few articles by a writer out of New York named Barry Ritholtz. His claim to fame was like so many others at the time: he nailed the housing crash in 2007 and 2008. But what made him different was that he didn’t morph into a doomsayer. Early in 2009 he wrote that investors should get back into the market because the market works. Since then he has repeated his dual message ad nauseum: first, your behaviour is the most important part of investing. And second, most of what Wall Street talks about is useless. And that’s putting it nicely.

I mention ZeroHedge and Ritholtz because they illustrate the extreme ends of the financial content universe. On one side there’s doomsaying and proselytizing. On the other there’s reason and history. Most content ends up somewhere in the middle.

There are reasons for this. If you’re licensed as a financial advisor, you have rules you must follow, which limits what you can put in writing. The profession has also relied on the same marketing playbook for decades: bland, high-level, say-nothing reports focused on recent events, always being too careful (disclaimer: this is, of course, my opinion). Add in that the finance profession is famous for taking itself too seriously, and you’re left with bland content.

I’d rather avoid bland content, and I’ll never take myself too seriously. But I will obey the rules.

So why do I write? A few reasons:

1. I’d rather people know my views before meeting me.

And I have strong views. If you agree with me, you’ll probably want to work with me. If you don’t, I probably won’t hear from you. Every so often, someone tells me how wrong I am. I enjoy the banter, but at least we don’t waste time trying to work together.

I can’t remember where I first heard this, but it goes like this:

Lie to people who want to be lied to, and you’ll be rich. Tell the truth to people who want the truth, and you’ll do OK. But tell the truth to people who want to be lied to, or lie to people who want the truth, and you’ll go broke.

I’ll tell the truth to people who want the truth.

2. I learn when I write, and it keeps me accountable to my own advice.

Imagine meeting with me only to find my recommendations don’t match what I write. Why would you want to work with me? My views may change as I learn, but I’ll write about it when that time comes. Accountability and honesty matter. The more content I share, the easier it is for you to know what I’m about.

“We are evidence-based” is the newest, most overused phrase in all of business. It’s everywhere and I don’t like it. I’d rather say this: our advice is grounded in history, not a financial model. If history changes my mind, so be it. But a model won’t.

3. I enjoy it.

And because bland financial content annoys me, I try to make mine useful. It might even lead to a conversation that wouldn’t happen otherwise.

I’ll never write a quarterly market update, recap, or outlook. I find all that stuff useless, and it all sounds the same. I’ll write about behaviour, history, how I see things, and the financial planning business. But I won’t regurgitate the talking points Wall Street or Bay Street have repeated over and over again.

That’s why I write. The list may grow, but the reasons won’t change.