This isn’t thought leadership. It’s misdirected energy. Here’s who you should be writing for instead – and how to actually reach them.
Let’s start with the uncomfortable part.
Most fintech blogs are a mess. Not because they’re written badly (although many are), but because they’re pointed in the wrong direction.
You’ve seen them. “Why payments matter in 2025”, “The importance of digital wallets”, “What is embedded finance?” These posts happen when marketing just needs to “get something out”. They sound plausible. They get approved. They go live. And they’re irrelevant.
And that’s because no one wakes up thinking: “Today’s the day I finally understand embedded finance”.
This kind of writing isn’t content marketing. It’s content projection. It shows what you want to talk about, not what your ideal buyer actually thinks or feels. And that’s the problem. Because if you’re not writing for a real person, you’re writing for nobody.
Why avatar marketing works (and how most people get it wrong)
Marketers talk about “avatars”, but most treat them like internal role-play characters. They fill in a profile, name it something bland like “Ops Manager Olivia”, and tick the box. That’s not an avatar. That’s a compliance exercise.
A real avatar is a decision anchor. It’s how you decide what to write, how to frame it, and what not to say. Done properly, it’s a filter for truth. But to work, the avatar has to be someone real – someone you can picture on a bad day, with a Slack backlog and a product to ship.
They don’t float around thinking in abstracts. They’re not “passionate about disruption”. They’re on the clock, juggling bugs and budget.
This post is about how to write for that person.
And while we’re here, I’ll show you who my perfect-fit client is too – because I write like she’s always reading.
Avatar 1: Sarah (the one I write for)
Sarah runs product or operations at a mid-stage fintech. She’s sharp, short on time, and deep in the stack. She’s scaling a team, wrangling integration docs, and trying to stop customer support tickets from overflowing.
She doesn’t care about top-of-funnel platitudes. She’s seen enough of them to know when a vendor’s blog is just regurgitating trends. What she’s looking for is signal. Substance. A writer who knows the terrain, not just the keywords.
She doesn’t care about “content”. She cares about outcomes.
I write for her.
Not because she’ll share it on LinkedIn (she won’t), but because when she reads something sharp, she sends it to the CTO. Or the CEO. Or the vendor evaluation channel on Slack.
Sarah’s the one who gets me in the door – and keeps me there. So I write for her. Everything else is decoration.
Avatar 2: Irina (the internal champion)
Irina’s in the marketing team. She runs the blog, the newsletter, maybe the webinars. She’s bright, under-resourced, and trying to create high-quality content in a sector drowning in mediocrity.
She’s the one who’ll champion this post – but she’s not who it’s for.
She knows what bad writing looks like. She knows what CMS filler is. She wants better, but she’s stuck between founders who want technical depth and salespeople who want fast copy that converts. And she’s got deadlines.
She’s not chasing awards. She just wants the next article to make sense.
Irina is the one who flags my posts. Sarah is the one who makes the call.
Avatar 3: Paul (the wrong-fit)
You’ll meet him eventually. Paul’s the Director of Strategic Partnerships at a fintech that peaked at Series C. He’s got content on his to-do list, but no clear reason why. He buys blog posts like he buys middleware – through procurement, via spreadsheet, with zero clarity on purpose or outcome.
He loves frameworks. He likes the idea of content. But everything goes through six approvals, and no one reads the stuff once it’s live. It’s just a checkbox. Something to show the board. There’s no harm in Paul, but there’s no impact either.
If I started attracting too many Pauls, I’d know my positioning was broken. I’d also know my content wouldn’t get used – because nothing else does.
How avatars shape the work
When I write a blog post, I picture Sarah scanning it on her phone after a meeting. I know she’s not going to scroll through 12 screens of waffle. So I start with the point. I don’t over-explain. I don’t waste her time.
If a headline wouldn’t earn a click from Sarah, it doesn’t ship.
If a section sounds like it was written for a boardroom instead of a browser, it gets cut.
And if it’s something Sarah already knows – like how PSD2 works – it gets skipped. She’s not here for a primer. She’s here for a perspective.
How to build your own
Start with a real customer. Not a made-up persona. Someone who actually bought your product. Someone who asked good questions on a demo. Someone who raised objections and then came back six weeks later and signed the contract.
What do they know? What don’t they know? What are they under pressure to fix? What would make them trust you more? What would make them click away?
Write that down.
Now give it a name. Not for internal alignment – but so your writer knows who they’re talking to. And make it real enough that when they’re writing, they can imagine this person scrolling on their phone at 7am. Tired. Decisive. Unimpressed.
One final thing
If you’re trying to reach a smart, cynical, overcommitted buyer – don’t write like a founder who’s read Atomic Habits twice.
Write like someone who’s been in their shoes.
Be real. Be precise. Be helpful faster than the doubt.
If nobody reads it, it doesn’t matter how well it fits your content calendar.