You already sound like someone. Your content doesn't.

Run a content prompt without evidence and the result can be fluent, structured and completely anonymous. Nothing in it is wrong. Nothing in it could only have come from you.

The usual answer is three adjectives: professional, approachable, authoritative. They may be true, but no draft can fail them. Founders also describe the voice they want, rather than the habit a reader would recognise.

That is why a description alone does not travel into a draft. It cannot tell a writer whether you open with the conclusion or build to it, whether you use a number or an example to make a claim, or which familiar phrase you would never say. Those are choices a real reader can notice, and an AI can follow only when they are made explicit.

Use the medium where the voice is least managed. Recorded speech carries your rhythm, the examples you reach for and the way you make a case. Published copy is often a committee version of the founder. The profile needs rules that a draft can pass or fail, each tied to a real line you said.

The aim is not to make writing sound casual. It is to stop a useful idea arriving in the generic register that could belong to any business. The source material decides the formality. The evidence decides the rules.

Rank your sources before you read them, because the ranking matters more than the volume.

Recorded speech comes first. Call transcripts, recorded talks, voice notes, interviews, anything where you were answering rather than composing. This is the strongest evidence there is and it should carry the whole profile.

Unpolished writing comes second. Slack and WhatsApp messages, internal notes, the long reply you dashed off in one pass without rereading it.

Published writing comes third, and only where you wrote it yourself.

Marketing copy comes last, by a distance. The website, the deck, the one-pager. It is evidence of what an agency or a committee sounded like on the day, and building a voice profile from it will faithfully reproduce the thing you were trying to get away from.

Here is the part most people miss. If you record your sales calls, you are already sitting on hours of yourself talking about your own business, transcribed and searchable, and you have almost certainly never used a minute of it for this. One client we worked with had over a thousand transcripts going back three years and had never opened them for anything except recalling what was agreed.

The prompt below does eight things, and it is worth knowing why each one is there.

It ranks the sources and tells you if everything you supplied sits in the weakest tier, rather than quietly producing a profile of your own website.

It extracts rules, not impressions. Every rule has to be checkable by someone holding a draft: how you open, your sentence length and whether you use fragments, whether a paragraph holds one idea or builds a case, how you get from one idea to the next, how you close, what punctuation you actually use, which spelling, when you use bullets and when you refuse to. Each one comes with a real quote behind it, so you can see the evidence and argue with it.

It records how you carry a claim. This is usually the single largest difference between real writing and generated writing. Some people prove a point with a number, some with a named example, some with a precedent, some with a story. Generated writing proves it with adjectives.

It builds a lexicon in two directions. The words you do use, including the unglamorous ones, and the words an outsider would expect you to use and you never do. The second list is harder to build and worth more, because it is what stops a model reaching for the obvious word.

It writes a banned list. The most useful section and the one everyone skips. Some entries come from your own samples: if there is not a single exclamation mark in forty pages of your writing, that is a rule and not a coincidence. Others are general tells that mark text as machine-written whoever it is imitating.

It places you on five stances with a line of evidence for each, rather than a label on its own.

It separates voice from register. Your voice is constant and your register moves. A person who writes long argued paragraphs in a newsletter does not write them on a homepage, and a profile that ignores this will hand you website copy that reads like an essay. So the prompt states, per surface, which rules hold and which invert.

It writes the same point twice, once in your voice and once in default AI voice committing the exact errors on your banned list. That pair does more work than any other part of the document, because a model reading it can see the gap instead of being told about it.

The document ends with a voice block: a compact version of the profile, small enough to fit on one screen, that you paste at the top of any prompt that will write something as you. That is the part you will use every week. The rest of the document is what makes the block trustworthy.

One honest limit. A voice profile makes your content sound like you. It does not make it worth reading. What is worth saying comes from knowing who you are talking to and what you actually sell, which is Playbook 02 and the work behind it. Voice is the last of the four things a piece of content needs, not the first.

Test it this week. Write three short paragraphs on the same subject, one lifted verbatim from your real samples and two generated from the profile, and ask a colleague who knows your writing to pick out the real one. If they can, the profile is not close enough yet, and the prompt will tell you which rules are the likely miss.