Why I bother with a plan (and you should too)
Picture this: It’s 9 p.m., I’m staring at my analytics, and traffic has flat-lined. I’d been tinkering with random tactics—one week fiddling with meta tags, the next begging for backlinks—yet nothing stuck because there was zero strategy tying it all together. The night I finally outlined a proper plan (sticky notes everywhere, my dog judging me from the sofa), things clicked. A strategy keeps you from spinning your wheels and, crucially, stops you from doing anything that could earn a Google slap later on.
The keyword treasure hunt
I treat keywords like shopping lists for my content. First, I jot down the big-ticket items—“pressure washer,” “electric bike,” that sort of thing—then I raid Moz or Ahrefs to see how tough each term is.
Primary terms are the high-volume monsters. Ranking for them is like training for a marathon: slow, sweaty, but worth it.
Long-tails are the snack-sized sprints—“best cordless pressure washer for patios,” for instance. They’re easier wins, perfect while you chase the big stuff.
Semantic bits (brand names, specs, FAQs) are the seasoning that tells Google, “Hey, I actually know my stuff.”
I once wrote a post targeting “kitchen compost bin charcoal filter replacements.” It felt ridiculously niche, but within six weeks it was on page one—and sales of replacement filters paid for my coffee habit all quarter.
Spying on page-one rivals (ethically, promise!)
Whenever I’m aiming for a new keyword, I make a little ritual of opening every first-page result in separate tabs—like lining up suspects in an SEO police lineup. I note:
Backlinks: Did a glossy magazine just rave about them?
Content depth: Are they answering every possible follow-up question?
E-E-A-T clues: Bios, credentials, real-world proof.
User vibe: Does the page load faster than I can say “Core Web Vitals”?
Your mission isn’t to copy but to outshine. If their guide lists ten tips, give readers twelve. If they rely on stock photos, shoot your own. (I once filmed myself power-washing my old decking—viewers loved the mess-to-magic transition.)
Polishing your own pages
I treat each page like it’s auditioning for Britain’s Got Talent. Headings in order? Alt text sprinkled sensibly? Meta description tempting enough for a click? And for the love of speed, compress those images—nobody’s waiting seven seconds for your slow-mo hero banner to load.
Content that actually helps (and sells)
When I upgraded an e-bike description from three bland sentences to a chatty 800-word review—plus a video of me trying (and failing) to conquer the steepest hill in Cardiff—bounce rate halved and newsletter sign-ups tripled. The secret? Give people the information they need before they even realise they need it: maintenance tips, cost calculators, real-life stories.
Still chasing links? Absolutely.
In 2025, backlinks are like social proof on steroids. But think quality. My rule: if I wouldn’t brag about the referring site at a networking event, I don’t pursue the link. Original research, funny infographics, local sponsorships—those earn natural mentions. And please, skip the 500-links-for-£50 emails unless you fancy a Penguin penalty.
Keep nudging, tweaking, refreshing
SEO isn’t a one-and-done chore; it’s gardening. I schedule a monthly “prune and plant” session where I:
Weed out dated stats.
Add shiny new screenshots or videos.
Patch broken links.
Expand posts that start ranking for surprise queries.
Small tweaks compound. My guide to “winter bike storage” began as 600 words; today it’s a 2 500-word beast that dominates every December—because I add new tips (and a cringey anecdote about frozen gears) every year.
Quick-fire FAQs I get all the time
“What belongs in the plan?”
Competitive intel, keyword roadmap, content calendar, link strategy, KPIs you can tie to revenue (not vanity rankings).
“Why bang on about content and links?”
Because Google’s core question is always: Is this page useful, and do others trust it? Great content answers the first; earned links answer the second.
Final pep talk
Whether you DIY everything at your kitchen table or hire someone like our crew (Ryan Walsh & Partners start at a grand a month), remember this: research what searchers love, create a better answer than anyone else, earn genuine kudos around the web, and keep at it. Do that, and those AI-heavy SERPs won’t look half as scary—they’ll look like an open door.
Now, excuse me—the dog’s demanding a walk, and I just thought of three new long-tail keywords while writing this. Let’s crush that first page together.