The most valuable thing journalism taught me wasn't how to write. It was how to listen.
Over the past two decades I've interviewed detectives, entrepreneurs, scientists, chief executives, leading politicians, victims of crime, musicians, authors, community leaders and professional athletes.
Reporting has taken me into conversations with taxi drivers at the end of long shifts, volunteers running food banks, people relying on them, publicans, company founders and individuals facing some of the most challenging periods of their lives.
The interviews have taken me to courtrooms, construction sites, laboratories, football stadiums, cafés, offices, aeroplanes and hotel lobbies.
What struck me early on was that people are usually far more interesting than the stories they're known for.
The best interviews rarely came from arriving with all the answers. They came from genuine curiosity, careful listening and a willingness to change direction when the conversation revealed something more interesting.
Looking back, many of the principles that shape BellPress today were formed long before the business existed.
The story is rarely where you first expect to find it
Five years covering crime and the courts taught me not to place too much faith in first impressions.
Events that appeared straightforward often became more complicated the deeper you looked. People experienced the same situation in very different ways. Facts mattered enormously, but context often explained what the facts alone could not.
The same lesson followed me into business journalism and later into communications.
Companies often assume the story sits in the announcement, the funding round, the new contract, the growth figures or the latest milestone. Those things matter, and every organisation has stories worth telling.
But the stories people remember usually sit a layer deeper — beneath the news itself and closer to the people behind it.
A few years ago I worked with Jamie Pilling, founder of JEP Youth Engagement. On paper, there was a strong business story. The organisation had not since long launched, was growing, securing contracts and extending its reach across Greater Manchester and beyond.
Yet the story we took to the media wasn't primarily about growth. It was about Jamie's own journey — a drink-driving conviction, struggles with bulimia and mental health, and how those experiences helped him build trust with young people facing challenges of their own.
The resulting headline was simple: Amateur cricketer turns his life around with launch of youth engagement company.
The growth of the organisation mattered. But the reason people connected with the story was because they could see the person behind it.
Human details matter
One of the privileges of journalism, and indeed communications, is gaining access to people whose experiences are completely different from your own.
I remember interviewing the now co-owner of Manchester United Sir Jim Ratcliffe at Salford's Lowry Hotel. Around us sat advisers recording every word as we discussed INEOS and the wider business landscape. His position carried significance well beyond the room and what he said mattered to investors, markets and industry.
Yet what stayed with me wasn't a discussion about business strategy.
It was Ratcliffe recalling how, as a boy growing up in Failsworth, he used to count chimneys from his bedroom window.
The opening line of the article read: "When Jim Ratcliffe was a kid growing up in Failsworth, he would count chimneys from his bedroom window."
At the time he was Britain's richest man. Yet it was that detail — not the balance sheet or industrial strategy — that helped explain the person behind the business.
I found the same thing years earlier when interviewing former Australia cricket captain Michael Clarke on the eve of an Ashes test match in England.
The obvious story was the Ashes itself. Clarke was among the world's leading batters and James Anderson the number one-ranked bowler in the world. Anticipation was building ahead of one of sport's great rivalries and there was no shortage of angles to pursue.
What interested me most, however, was something far less obvious.
More than a decade earlier, before the international recognition and before either had reached the highest level of the game, their paths had crossed in league cricket in the North West.
The resulting feature carried the headline: We meet again old friend.
What stayed with me wasn't simply the contest between two elite competitors. It was the respect, familiarity and shared history beneath it — a reminder that even the biggest sporting occasions are ultimately stories about people.
Over the years I've found that the details people remember are rarely the obvious ones.
They're usually the moments that reveal something genuine — a motivation, a struggle, a memory or a relationship.
Journalism taught me that audiences want to learn something they didn't know before. Not necessarily something dramatic or groundbreaking, but something that helps them understand a person, organisation or issue in a different way.
The human detail is often where the real story begins.
People rarely see themselves as others see them
Perhaps one of the most important lessons 20 years in communication taught me is that people and organisations are often poor judges of how they are perceived. That's understandable.
We experience our own lives from the inside. Everyone else experiences us from the outside.
One pattern appears repeatedly in the conversations I've had with people from every walk of life.
People tend to judge themselves by their intentions while others judge them by what they can see. The distinction matters.
Businesses know the effort behind a product launch, a service improvement or a strategic decision. Customers, stakeholders and journalists do not. They only see the outcome.
Leaders know what they stand for. Their audiences only know what has been demonstrated consistently over time.
That's why organisations can sometimes believe they are communicating clearly while their audience remains confused. It's why some businesses achieve high visibility without ever becoming well understood. And it's why credibility takes years to build but can be damaged surprisingly quickly.
Journalism teaches you to look beyond claims and search for evidence.
Every organisation wants to be seen as innovative, customer-focused, purpose-led or different.
The more interesting question is always the same: What evidence would persuade somebody who doesn't already know you?
Reputation is built long before anyone notices
During my journalism career I reported on business success stories, corporate setbacks, scientific breakthroughs, economic development and social change.
What became increasingly clear was that reputation is rarely shaped by a single moment.
Most assume reputation is built through major announcements, landmark achievements or headline-grabbing events. Those moments can matter, but they rarely tell the whole story.
More often, reputation is formed gradually through the accumulation of signals over time.
An interview here. A decision there. A recommendation from a customer. A story someone remembers. A pattern starts to emerge.
I saw this first-hand through my work with UrbanChain.
When BellPress began working with the business in 2021, the technology was sophisticated, the proposition was compelling and the founders possessed deep expertise. Yet outside a relatively small group of energy specialists, few people fully understood what the company actually did.
The challenge wasn't capability. It was understanding.
Over the following years, the work was not about creating a new story. It was about helping the market understand the existing one more clearly — simplifying complexity, building credibility and applying a consistent narrative across media, digital channels, leadership communications and stakeholder conversations.
By the time UrbanChain was appearing in national rankings, major industry awards and growth indices, much of the reputation had already been built. The recognition was visible. The years of accumulated understanding that sat beneath it were not.
That's often how reputation works.
The organisations and individuals who earn lasting credibility are rarely the loudest. They are usually the most consistent — demonstrating over time who they are, what they stand for and why they matter.
By the time a reputation becomes obvious, it has often been forming for years.
Why this still matters
The world does not suffer from a shortage of content. It suffers from a shortage of understanding.
The technology we use to communicate will continue to evolve. The platforms will change. The volume of information competing for our attention will only increase.
What is less likely to change is human nature. People still want to understand who they are dealing with. They still look for signals they can trust. They still form opinions based on what they see, hear and experience over time.
Looking back, many of the principles that shape BellPress today were formed long before the business existed — in conversations with detectives, business leaders, entrepreneurs, scientists, athletes, volunteers, founders and people whose perspectives are too often overlooked.
The lesson running through all of them is surprisingly simple. People want to understand what matters.
That's why listening matters. Why curiosity matters. Why evidence matters. And why the story behind the story is often the one worth telling.
Because reputation is rarely built in a moment.
It is built in the accumulation of stories, experiences and perceptions that shape how people understand who you are, what you stand for and whether they trust you.
