More Than NormalMTN.
An answer

Do I really have to write a blog every week?

No. For most local service businesses a weekly blog produces almost nothing, and the guilt it creates does more damage than the missing posts. What brings enquiries is a proper page for each thing you do, in each place you do it, kept accurate. Write those first.

No. Not weekly, and for most local service businesses, not in the way you have been told.

If you have been writing posts on a Sunday night and seeing nothing come back, that is not a failure of discipline. It is the wrong task.

Where the advice comes from

Two things got muddled.

Google does reward pages that answer a question well. That got retold as “Google likes fresh content”, which became “publish something every week”, which is a rule nobody at Google ever set.

And frequency is easy to sell. A monthly fee for four articles is a tidy thing to put on an invoice. Whether those articles were ever going to bring anybody in is a harder question, and it rarely gets asked after the first invoice.

What actually brings local enquiries

Somebody looking for what you do searches for what you do, in the place they want it. A plumber in Whitstable. An accountant who handles VAT returns. Anxiety therapy in Canterbury.

So the pages that earn their keep are the ones that match those searches. One proper page for each thing you do, saying what it is, who it suits, what it costs or what governs the cost, and what happens next.

Most small sites have one services page listing eight services in a sentence each. Eight thin descriptions on one page compete with nobody. Eight proper pages can each answer a real search.

That is usually a week of work, once, rather than an hour every week forever.

One warning, because this advice gets taken too far. A page per service per town only works while each page is genuinely about that service in that place: what you actually do there, who you have done it for, what it costs, how far you travel. Forty pages that differ by one town name are a recognised pattern and they get treated as one. If you cannot say something real about a place, you do not need a page for it.

When writing something is worth it

When a question keeps arriving and you keep answering it by hand.

If three people this month have asked whether you take evening appointments, or what happens if the survey finds something, that question is being searched as well as asked. Write the answer once, properly, and it works while you sleep. That is not a blog. It is a page that happens to have been written.

The difference is the starting point. A blog starts with a schedule and looks for something to fill it. This starts with a question somebody actually has.

Before you write anything, three questions

Would anyone search for this? “Five tips for a happy home” would not. “How much does a house survey cost in Kent” would.

Can you answer it better than what is already there? Look at what currently ranks. If you cannot beat it, pick a narrower question you can.

Does it connect to something you sell? Not a sales pitch in the article, but a real path from the question to the work. A post about nothing you offer brings visitors who were never going to book.

If a topic fails all three, not writing it is the correct decision.

The thing that makes it worse

The usual rescue is to have software write the posts. It solves the wrong problem. You end up with more pages that answer nothing, on a site that now looks padded, and the few pages that were working get harder to find in among them.

Publishing less, better, is not a compromise here. It is the actual advice.

What to do with that hour instead

Ask two recent clients for a review. Check your Google Business Profile still says the right hours and the right services. Read your own busiest service page on a phone and fix the sentence that does not make sense. Any of those will do more in an hour than a post nobody searched for.

Where this does not apply

Some businesses genuinely do live on publishing: a subject where the field moves monthly, a shop whose range changes, a practice building a reputation for teaching rather than for services. If writing brings you work and you enjoy it, carry on. This is for the people doing it out of guilt.

Last checked 14 September 2026 · written by Alex Harvey