Matthew Ray Scott's Linkedin Analytics

What Jesus Teaches Us About Entrepreneurship Two thousand years ago, a carpenter became the most influential figure in history. Without a website. Without venture capital. Without a LinkedIn profile. What did Jesus understand that most entrepreneurs miss? He started small. Twelve followers. Not twelve thousand. Not twelve million. He focused on transformation, not transaction. He wasn't selling salvation; he was offering it. His message wasn't complicated. Love one another. Forgive. Serve. When the crowds grew too large, he didn't scale up production. He scaled up delegation. "Go and do likewise." He knew his ideal customer wasn't everyone. "Many are called, few are chosen." He understood the power of story. He didn't present theological PowerPoints; he told parables about farmers, weddings, and lost coins. The authorities saw a radical. His followers saw a visionary. Both were right. His marketing strategy? Word of mouth. In a pre-digital age, he created the ultimate viral sensation - not through clever tactics, but through genuine transformation. When he faced competition, he didn't attack. He invited them to see differently. He wasn't afraid of failure. The cross was his pivot point, not his endpoint. What if entrepreneurship isn't about empire-building or disruption? What if it's about planting seeds you might never see grow? What if it's about sending your message into waters you'll never sail? What if success isn't measured in exits but in entrances - into lives, into hearts, into change? The most revolutionary startup in history began with a birth most people missed, in a town most people ignored. Perhaps your greatest entrepreneurial advantage isn't your funding. It's your willingness to start small, think long, and serve authentically. What seed are you planting today that might still be growing in two thousand years? I ponder, 4:47 am, San Diego airport, Vietnamese coffee in hand.

Every surgeon masters the scalpel. Few master their story. But patients aren't just choosing procedures. They're choosing narratives. "Who will hold my life in their hands?" "Who understands what I'm going through?" "Who can I trust with my fear?" Your clinical excellence is the entry fee. Not the differentiator. Because while you're perfecting your technique, patients are Googling your name. While you're updating your CV, they're reading your reviews. While you're focused on the OR, they're focused on who you are. The greatest surgeon isn't always the busiest surgeon. The busiest surgeon is the one who connects their expertise to human emotion. Think about it: Technical skill makes you qualified. Empathy makes you chosen. Your story makes you remembered. Your degrees speak to other doctors. Your story speaks to patients. Every incision tells a medical story. But who's telling your human one? The question isn't: "Are you the best surgeon in your field?" It's: "Does anyone know why it matters?" Because in a world of comparable credentials, the surgeon who reveals their purpose becomes irreplaceable. What story are your patients telling themselves about you?

Why I switched to 90% written and 10% video (and it worked)

The hospital has a media team. You don’t. Guess who gets the patients? Hospitals love their family practices on camera. Their pediatricians in press releases. Their emergency doctors telling dramatic stories. But when's the last time you saw an orthopedic or spine surgeon trending? Here's the thing about bones and spines - they're not sexy. Until they break. Until they fail. Until someone can't pick up their grandchild anymore. Then they're everything. The irony? Orthopedic and surgeons are needed but rarely seen. Your hospital's media strategy is playing it safe. Safe doesn't help people understand why their knee replacement can't wait another year. Safe doesn't explain why that minimally invasive technique matters. Safe doesn't build trust before the crisis. The best time to start sharing your expertise was before your patient started Googling "spine surgery risks" at 3 AM. But your digital thought leader voice? It's still in the operating room. Maybe it's time to operate on your reach. What story aren't you telling today that could change someone's life tomorrow?

Austin: The Bone Graft Crossroads I sat at the intersection of three paths. Path one: AAOS. Comfortable. Expected. A badge, a lanyard, and watch surgeons get stalked. Path two: SXSW. Energy. Music. The unexpected collision of technology and culture that no one saw coming. Path three: Austin. A camera. A story about reimagining what bone grafting could be with Jantzen Cole Because here's the thing about bone grafting: Everyone's trying to build better bones. Almost no one is trying to tell a better story. The best medical innovation without a story is just a tool waiting to be forgotten. The best medical story without innovation is just marketing without substance. But what happens when you combine both? Austin isn't just a location. It's a decision to step outside the expected. To bring medicine where the culture is already paying attention. To document not just what you've built, but why it matters. SXSW isn't just a festival. It's recognition that healing happens at intersections. That the next breakthrough in orthopedics might come from the musician who understands resonance. The filmmaker who understands story. The technologist who understands scale. The mini-documentary isn't just content. It's evidence. It's showing, not telling. It's making bone grafting visible to people who've never thought about bones. The traditional path asks: "How do I get better at what I already do?" The crossroads asks: "What if I did something no one expects a surgeon to do?" Most orthopedic innovations die in the conference hall. Not because they aren't valuable. But because they're invisible to the world that needs them. Jantzen Kole stands at the crossroads. And I want to stand in the gap with him. AAOS is what's expected. Austin is what's possible. That's where the real healing begins.

Most surgeons are playing the wrong game. They're fighting to be known as "the best" when they should be fighting to define what "best" means. Here's why: Nobody walks into a surgeon's office asking for "robotic-assisted minimally invasive procedures." They ask for less pain, faster recovery, and better outcomes. That's the difference between selling surgery and owning the conversation about healing. But most surgeons? They're stuck in comparison mode. Years of experience vs. years of experience. Fellowship vs. fellowship. Hospital vs. hospital. It's a race to the same credentials everyone else has. When you're selling surgery within traditional categories, you play by insurance companies' rules. Hospital administrators' definitions. Other surgeons' benchmarks. But when you define the category? You write the healing story. You set the recovery standards. You become the benchmark for what's possible. This weekend at Content Crib 3.0, I asked the audience: Who owns category of Operating Room Efficiency? Everyone says Charlie DeCook Who launched Awake Spinal Fusion? Alok Sharan Who’s the Value Analysis Committee expert? Mark Copeland They own the category, not just the brand. The opportunity isn't in being the best surgeon in your specialty. It's in being the only one who approaches the problem differently. Here's the test: Can you finish this sentence? "This is a new kind of _____ for patients who _____." If you're still talking about your training and technology instead of the transformation you enable, you're still playing someone else's game. What category of care could you own if you stopped trying to be better and started being different? Remember: Nobody today asks for "that new kind of bloodless surgery." They just expect it. Because someone dared to define a new category of care. What category will you define?

Med tech sales reps will, almost certainly, receive the stink-eye from their old-school sales leaders - even if it helps them grow sales in less time. Some sales reps have told me - they're not "allowed" to do what I teach in this video.

Altitude Adjustment What if everything looks different from 27,000 feet? [Atlanta to God’s Green Acre, presently] We board planes to get somewhere else. But the real value might be in the nowhere space between. This forced pause. This rare moment when nobody expects an immediate response. Down there: Notifications. Expectations. Deadlines. Up here: Perspective. Distance. Clarity. The irony: We pay extra for better WiFi to stay connected. When the premium experience might be disconnection itself. What would happen if we treated this metal tube as a thinking capsule instead of a transportation device? Sixteen years ago, armed with a moleskin and a pen, I boarded a plane from San Diego to NYC. Landed at JFK, grabbed a coffee, and 90 minutes later boarded a plane returning home to San Diego. I planned who I was BEcoming that day. Last year, I co-authored two, soon to be published books, from American Airlines jaunts around the world. The most valuable upgrade isn't to business class. It's to a higher level of thinking. Because when the plane lands, you'll be thrust back into the urgent present. The small fires. The endless pings. The collective insistence that everything matters equally. But for these few hours, you get to decide what deserves your attention. Maybe the real journey isn't to your destination. It's to a better question.

The 120-Second Neurosurgeon: The Atlanta Equation Two minutes. That's all you have with an Atlanta neurosurgeon. [We trained @Neuro-tec how to increase engagement with busy neurosurgeons using a behavioral psychology approach based on 4 1/2 years of data.] Not because they're impatient. But because Neurotec is competing with a medical ecosystem that never sleeps. In Emory's expansion. In Grady's trauma cases. In the weight of neurological decisions that literally reshape lives. The traditional approach? More information. Better brochures. Longer presentations. Detailed emails. This is backwards. Because when someone has no time, giving them more to process isn't generosity. It's burden. The Atlanta neurosurgeon doesn't need Neurotec's comprehensive catalog. They need your precision. They don't need your product specs. They need your Southeast perspective. They don't need your features. They need how you're different from every other neuro vendor crowding Peachtree Street. Here's what we misunderstand about surgeon engagement: It's not about attention span. It's about value density. A Piedmont neurosurgeon can focus for 12 hours straight on a complex spine procedure. But won't waste 12 minutes on a Neurotec conversation that circles Atlanta's infamous Perimeter. The question isn't "How do I get more of their time?" It's "How do I deserve the time they give?" The winning formula isn't: - More information - More touchpoints - More persistence It's: - More relevance - More precision - More respect When Neurotec approaches an Atlanta neurosurgeon, you're not competing with other neuro vendors. You're competing with everything else that deserves their Southern attention. The patient waiting for results. The colleague asking for consultation. The new technique they need to master. The family they rarely see. Your opportunity isn't in stretching two minutes into ten. It's in making those two minutes so valuable they voluntarily give you ten more. Most distributors try to cram a 30-minute presentation into a 2-minute window. The masters deliver 2 minutes of such concentrated value that the surgeon asks for the other 28. The secret? Speak to what they care about, not what you sell. Solve their problems, not your quota. Respect their time as if it were your patient's life. Because in those 120 seconds, you're not just selling a product. You're auditioning for a spot on their priority list. What would change if you approached every surgeon interaction not as a pitch, but as a gift of precisely what they need, exactly when they need it, in exactly the time they have? That's when two minutes becomes enough. - - - I don’t suppose most sales consultants are interested in our approach. Those we train prefer you sell like it’s 1995. Eric I Anderson Chris Grosse

The Surgeon's Naming Dilemma Most surgeons believe their work speaks for itself. It doesn't. What if your most valuable surgical innovation is hidden behind generic medical terminology? Every day, thousands of surgeons perform procedures differently. Better. Faster. Safer. But their patients don't know it. Their colleagues don't talk about it. The market doesn't recognize it. Because they never named it. Here's what we forget: In a crowded medical marketplace, unnamed innovations remain invisible. "Minimally invasive procedure" sounds like what everyone else does. "The Thompson Protocol" sounds like something worth traveling across the country for. Your patients aren't just choosing a procedure. They're choosing a story they can tell themselves. A name they can google. A solution they can ask for by name. Traditional descriptions say: "A different way to do surgery" Powerful solution names declare: "Rapid Recovery Protocol" Category-defining names establish: "AI-Powered OR Precision Protocol" Vonda Wright MD, MS Look, Feel, & Stay Young Forever: Orthopedic Surgeon’s Proven Protocol. Each step up this ladder increases your authority, memorability, and referrability. When surgeons don't name their innovations, they're forced to compete on: - Location - Insurance acceptance - Availability When surgeons name and claim their solutions, they compete on: - Proprietary methodology - Unique patient outcomes - Category ownership The truth is, patients and referring physicians don't remember generic terms. They remember "Hidden Recovery Syndrome" and how your "Precision Restoration Protocol" solves it. By naming the problem first, you make it concrete and memorable. By naming your solution second, you claim ownership of the fix. This isn't marketing. It's clarity. The breakthrough surgical approach that remains unnamed remains unknown. What innovation have you perfected that deserves a name?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ - - - - - Surgeons, is your expertise a well-kept secret? With our custom Brand Rx Protocol, you’ll: • Clarify your distinct voice and approach • Digitize your expertise to attract ideal patients • Amplify your influence and media recognition DM “Brand Rx” for a complimentary 15m chat to discuss your ideal protocol.

The Surgeon Who Becames the Kevin of Their Platform What happens when a surgeon realizes the robot isn't their only tool? Something interesting is happening in orthopedics\AAOS right now. Kevin Brown 🎸 drives his branded Tesla Cybertruck across the country to #AAOS. He's not just another med tech rep. He's become the curator, the connector, the platform. While company reps get corporate handcuffs, Kevin—as an independent—interviews the thought leaders, demonstrates the cutting-edge tech, builds the relationships that matter. He speaks surgeon because he lives surgeon. He markets boldly because he's not asking permission. But here's the question nobody's asking: Why can't a surgeon do this? Think about it. The surgeon already has: The clinical expertise Kevin studies The operating room experience Kevin observes The peer network Kevin cultivates The credibility Kevin borrows What they're missing is Kevin's mindset. The traditional surgeon thinks: "My practice is my platform." The Kevin-minded surgeon thinks: "The industry is my platform." One waits for patients to find them. The other finds the conversations that matter. Traditional surgeons see social media as reputation risk. Kevin sees it as reputation currency. Corporate reps get the stink eye from their dinosaur boss for compliantly posting on LinkedIn. Meanwhile, Kevin creates a category. Here's the opportunity: What if the most valuable skill for tomorrow's orthopedic surgeon isn't a steadier hand, but a stronger voice? What if the future belongs not just to the best technicians, but to the best curators? What if becoming the Kevin Brown of surgeons—the connector, the translator, the trusted filter—creates more impact than another 100 trade show appearances? The tools are all there. The audience is waiting. The only missing piece is the surgeon who realizes: The operating room is just one platform. And maybe not even the most powerful one.

The right question is: "How SMALL is big enough?" Most of us have it backwards. "How big can I get?" is the wrong question. The right question is: "How SMALL is big enough?" Corporate America trains us to chase the promotion, to climb the ladder, to aim for scale. More customers, more revenue, more market share. But what if we've been optimizing for the wrong thing? Kevin Kelly nailed it when he wrote about 1,000 True Fans. The idea is simple: You don't need millions of casual followers. You need a small group of people who can't imagine living without what you do. 1,000 people who'll buy anything you create. 1,000 people who'll tell their friends. 1,000 people who notice when you're gone. That's enough to make a living. That's enough to make a difference. But corporate thinking can't process this math. In the corporate world, success means: More direct reports Bigger budgets Fit-in don't stand-out Corner offices Higher titles It's all about expansion. About getting promoted. About being seen. Which explains why so many corporate refugees feel lost when they try to build something of their own. They're still using the corporate yardstick to measure non-corporate success. The minimum viable audience flips this on its head. Instead of asking "How do I reach everyone?" you ask "Who are the few people I can't bear to live without serving?" Instead of diluting your message for mass appeal, you sharpen it for deep resonance. Instead of optimizing for likes, you optimize for love. Small isn't a consolation prize. Small is a strategic choice. Small is the new big. Because when you serve the smallest viable audience, something magical happens: They tell others. Not because you bribed them or tricked them. But because you saw them. You made something precisely for them. You solved their problem when everyone else was solving someone else's problem. The smallest viable audience gives you: Focus (you know exactly who you're talking to) Feedback (they'll tell you what's working) Fuel (their response energizes you) Freedom (you don't answer to the masses) Corporate metrics push us toward bland, safe choices that won't alienate anyone. The minimum viable audience pushes us toward bold, specific choices that will alienate most—but deeply connect with a few. So here's the question: Are you brave enough to be small? Are you brave enough to say "this isn't for everyone"? Are you brave enough to make something so specific, so tailored, that most people won't get it? The paradox is that by aiming smaller, you might end up reaching further than you ever imagined. But first, you have to be willing to disappoint almost everyone, in order to thrill a precious few. How SMALL is big enough for you? - - - I'm going to get punched for this... Chris McClellan, DO introducing an ortho surgeon lifestyle design that becomes compelling for the 67% of orthopedic surgeons choosing not to live in the largest urban metro areas.

Booths are built. Swag is ordered. Sales teams are briefed. The AAOS meeting approaches, and the hunt for orthopedic surgeons begins. It's almost comical - how we all show up with the same playbook: - Get their badge scanned - Hand them a brochure - Offer a branded stress ball - Hope they remember us But surgeons aren't deer to be stalked. They're humans seeking connection. Here's what we forget: Orthopedic surgeons spend their days making high-stakes decisions that change lives. They touch bone, insert metal, and reconstruct the very framework that holds us upright. And we think a logo pen will impress them? What if instead of hunting them down, you invited them in? The personalized video invitation isn't about technology. It's about recognition. About saying: "I see you. Not just your title or institution." "Dr. Garcia, I noticed your AAOS lecture on ai integrated total talus replacements. Curvebeam AI’s 3D imaging platform streamlines surgical planning to help you reduce that 12 minute step you mentioned - more efficiency and precision for a TTR. Worth a chat? Booth 666.” This isn't mass marketing. It's meaningful marketing. The math is simple: 20 personal invitations that get 15 responses vs. 200 badge scans that lead to 5 follow-ups One is about quantity. The other is about quality. Orthopedic surgeons don't have time for your booth. But they make time for insights that matter to their patients. The irony? We call it "personal selling" but there's nothing personal about it. At this year's AAOS, you have a choice: Join the herd scanning badges and handing out tchotchkes. Or create connections that honor the work these surgeons do. Which approach would make you proud? Which approach would make them remember? The best booth at AAOS isn't the biggest one. It's the one where surgeons feel seen.

The Geography of Purpose Most people choose places. We chose possibility. [Surgeons and healthcare content creators flying into snowy Bentonville, Arkansas attending Content Crib 3.0 this weekend] The Ozarks aren't just hills and hollers. They're a statement about what matters. When everyone else was chasing coastal dreams and startup scenes, we saw something different: Space. Not just physical space (though there's plenty), but space to think. Space to try. Space to fail and try again. The conventional wisdom says you need: Silicon Valley for tech New York for finance LA for entertainment Austin for... being Austin But what if the conventional wisdom is just conventional? Here's what happens when you launch four businesses with friends and family in the Ozarks: You learn that roots matter more than runways. That community isn't just a buzzword—it's your backup plan. That "keeping it in the family" isn't old-fashioned—it's revolutionary. In a world obsessed with scaling up, we chose to scale deep. Because when your team is family: Every meeting is also a reunion Every setback is personal Every victory is shared Every pivot is supported by people who remember your first steps The Ozarks taught us something: Success doesn't have a zip code. Innovation doesn't need a coastline. Growth doesn't require gridlock. We didn't just start businesses. We built a local pub (culture). Write books w/buddies. Created reasons for our kids to come home. The question isn't "Why the Ozarks?" The question is "Why follow someone else's map?" Sometimes the best disruption isn't in your business model. It's in your GPS coordinates. What if your next big move wasn't to a bigger city, but to a bigger purpose? That's what the Ozarks offered us: Not an escape from the future, but a chance to build it on our own terms. With people who share our last names. And our first priorities. Scott Sigman MD Lindsay Kough Amanda Cardwell Carones MPH

The Conference vs. The Tribe Most conferences sell you a badge. A tribe gives you belonging. Conferences are events.  Tribes are movements. Here's what happens at Content Crib: You don't just attend. You join. You don't just listen. You contribute. You don't just network. You connect. The value isn't in the slides or the speaker lineup. It's in the conversations that happen between sessions. The collaborations that continue long after the venue lights dim. The relationships that transform from "nice to e-meet you" to "I was just thinking about your project." Traditional conferences offer information. Content Crib offers transformation. Because when you join a tribe: - Your questions find answers before you even ask them - Your struggles become shared challenges, not solo battles - Your wins become communal celebrations - Your growth becomes inevitable, not optional The ROI of a conference is measured in business cards collected. The ROI of a tribe is measured in problems solved together. What if Content Crib wasn't just another professional development expense? What if it was the community you've been searching for? The real value isn't just what you learn. It's who you become by learning it together.

All surgeons (marketers) are liars? Every surgeon has two patients on the table. The first is the body they're operating on. The second is the story they're telling. Most only focus on the first. But here's what the best surgeons know: healing happens twice. Once under the knife, and once in the narrative. "All marketers are liars," Seth Godin once wrote. Not because they're dishonest, but because they tell stories people choose to believe. Surgeons are marketers too. But they've been told a dangerous story themselves – that technical excellence is enough. That outcomes speak louder than narratives. They're wrong. Because while you were mastering microsurgery, your patients were mastering AI prompts. While you were publishing in journals, they were joining Facebook groups. While you were focused on outcomes, they were searching for meaning. The story gap: Your story: "I performed a technically perfect procedure." Their story: "Will I dance at my daughter's wedding?" The most successful surgeons aren't just technically skilled. They're translators. Meaning-makers. Story-shapers. They know that: - Patients don't buy procedures. They buy futures. - They don't seek surgeries. They seek solutions. - They don't want operations. They want transformations. Your scalpel can cut tissue. But only your stories can cut through fear. The question isn't whether you'll tell a story. It's whether you'll tell one that resonates, that heals, that matters. Or will you leave your patients to write their own? What story are you telling beyond the operating room?

The Kingdom of Your Own Design You don't need permission to rule what's yours. Too many entrepreneurs spend their lives seeking validation in someone else's kingdom. They call it "career advancement" or "climbing the ladder" or "paying dues." But what if the ladder is against the wrong wall? Here's what nobody tells you about entrepreneurship: The rules are made up. All of them. And the people who win aren't those who follow rules better—they're the ones who write their own. My six non-negotiables weren't taught in business school. They were earned through mistakes, burnout, and watching too many brilliant minds waste away serving someone else's vision. Rule 1: Don't work with assholes. Life's too short. Revenue is replaceable. Your spirit isn't. The client with the big budget but toxic demands? They cost more than they pay. Rule 2: Never carry someone else's quota. When you build your own thing, the only quota that matters is the one that lets you sleep at night. Rule 3: Residual income is non-negotiable. Trading time for money is a losing game. Build once, benefit repeatedly. Make money while you sleep, or eventually, you won't sleep at all. Rule 4: One decision-maker only. Committees don't innovate. They compromise. Sell to the person who can say yes. Everything else is just expensive theater. Rule 5: Choose your kingdom wisely. Better to reign in a place where your money buys freedom than serve in a place where your money barely buys shelter. The size of your life isn't measured by your zip code. Rule 6: Build your dreams or build someone else's. There's no middle ground. Every hour spent building someone else's vision is an hour not spent building yours. These aren't just principles. They're permissions. Permission to walk away from the wrong opportunities. Permission to value your worth beyond your billable hours. Permission to build a business that serves your life, not consumes it. Four seven-figure businesses later, I don't think about retirement anymore. Why would I? I'm not working—I'm creating. And I've surrounded myself with people who get it. The question isn't whether these rules will work for you. The question is whether you'll give yourself permission to follow them. What kingdom are you building today?

The Fraud You Think You Are The voice doesn't go away. "You're not ready." "Who are you to do this?" "They'll find out soon enough." The fraud you think you are is always louder than the expert others see. Here's what we miss: Everyone who's doing work that matters feels this way. The surgeon before cutting. The writer before publishing. The entrepreneur before launching. It's not proof you don't belong. It's evidence you're pushing edges. But there's a trap waiting. We trade this discomfort for something that feels better: validation. Likes. Shares. Comments. Followers. The dopamine feels like progress. The attention feels like impact. The metrics feel like meaning. Yet people with millions of views are still broke. People with perfect engagement still feel empty. People who go viral still wonder if they matter. Because the math doesn't add up: 10,000 likes ≠ $10,000 1,000,000 views ≠ A sustainable business Being known ≠ Making a difference The trap isn't thinking you're a fraud. The trap is thinking validation will fix it. What if instead of asking, "Will they like this?" You asked, "Will this help someone?" What if instead of "How many will see this?" You asked, "How many will remember this?" What if instead of "Am I good enough yet?" You asked, "Is this good enough to matter?" The fraud you think you are isn't solved by more people telling you you're not. It's solved by making work so meaningful you don't have time to wonder anymore. The voice doesn't go away. But eventually, it has to compete with the voice of the person who says, "That thing you made? It changed everything for me." And that voice is always louder. Stop chasing the metrics that don't pay bills. Start solving problems worth solving. The fraud you think you are isn't the problem. The value you're not yet creating is. What would you make if you weren't afraid of being found out?

I know it's tough to stand out online when you're delivering exceptional surgical care every day. We've helped other surgeons create content that positions them as trusted authorities, leading to more referrals and recognition. 1. The challenge you're facing is real: While you're focused on patient outcomes and surgical excellence, your online presence might not be reflecting your expertise. Many talented surgeons remain "hidden gems" despite their remarkable skills. 2. What we've discovered works: Surgeons who share their knowledge through targeted content see consistent growth in referrals and recognition. This doesn't mean spending hours on social media – it means strategic communication that demonstrates your unique approach and expertise. We've helped surgeons like you: - Transform complex procedures into accessible patient education - Highlight successful cases (while maintaining privacy) - Establish thought leadership in specialized areas - Build credibility through evidence-based content - med tech monetization as a modern (DOL) rather than traditional (KOL) - Create systems that generate content with minimal time investment Your surgical expertise deserves recognition. DM “DOL” and I’ll be in touch.

Brown Trout. White River. Playing in my backyard.