Author: admin

Today’s email is a remix of one of our greatest hits, originally sent July 8, 2024. Enjoy.

“There is only one cause of unhappiness: the false beliefs you have in your head.” – Anthony de Mello
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Here’s a list of realizations that are depressing in the short term, but will make you happier in the long-term:
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​You can’t fix everything.
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​Some problems will not be solved in your lifetime; you will live with them forever.
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Whether this bothers you or not is up to you.
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​Love isn’t enough.
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​Falling in love doesn’t mean it’ll work out, just like doing what you love doesn’t mean money will follow.
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If you thought a happy ending was guaranteed, welcome to the wrong fairytale.
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​Neither is hard work.
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​Working really, really hard doesn’t mean you’ll make it, and neither does “working smart.”
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The truth is:
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​You might just not be good enough.
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​Genetics are a b*tch.
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And, in case we forgot to add insult to injury:
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​Suffering doesn’t end.
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​If you’re expecting to wake up one day with all of your problems solved, stay in bed.
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(Finer point for the advanced: You can transcend suffering, but you can’t get rid of it; to transcend means to include and go beyond, not to remove. Apologies, Buddhists).
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​Well, damn.
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​That… sucks?
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Maybe.
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Before we go walking into the ocean with rocks in our pockets, there’s a catch:
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​None of this is a problem.​
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Reality ‘aint got no problems; she’s been running this show a lot longer than we’ve been playing it.
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Problems aren’t a reality thing, they’re a human thing:
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A thing we create by expecting reality be different than it is.
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If we expect the sky to be green, we’ll have a problem every time we look up — and it won’t be the sky’s fault, it’ll be ours.
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So, while the childhood move is to wish reality to be as we want it to be…
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The adult move is to meet reality as it is so we can deal with it productively.
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You still might not get what you wanted, but you’ll be happier for it.
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• T
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  ​P.S. I know this message lands in the deep end of the tough-love spectrum, but if the truth hurts, then pain is our ally.
  ​
  If you enjoyed, here’s more:
  ​
  ​This Depressing Video Will Make You Happier​

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Also:
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​Our next email will land on Tuesday next week.
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Taking a few days to unplug and lock in on our retreat here in the Amazon.
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Chat with you then.

​

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Alright, It’s early. I haven’t even had breakfast yet and well…

…grab a seat and pour yourself something strong,

We’re about to dive into some real talk before the birds wake up.

The kind of talk that might make you squirm a little, but that’s okay.

Growth is uncomfortable. Like wearing skinny jeans after a buffet. But stick with me, because this is the kind of stuff that separates the wheat from the chaff, the doers from the dabblers, the legends from the “who was that again?”

Let’s talk about community.

Yeah, yeah. I know, it’s not a new concept.

Community has always been the secret sauce, the lifeblood, the holy grail of building something meaningful.

But in the age of dopamine-driven follower counts and vanity metrics, people forgot…

They got distracted by the shiny numbers, the big, bold milestones. Hit 10k followers? You’re a god. 100k? Saint. 1 million?

You’re untouchable. Or so they thought.

And then we all heard about Instagram ‘fluencer @arii.

You know the story, right? Two million followers, couldn’t sell 36 t-shirts. Thirty-six. That’s fewer than the number of people who show up to your cousin’s awkward karaoke birthday party. And that, my early morning friend, is the cautionary tale of our time.

Because here’s a suck- y but honest truth which everyone needs to know…

Followers don’t mean shit if they don’t care.

Let me say that again for the people in the back of the bar.

Followers. Don’t. Mean. Shit.

Not unless they’re invested. Not unless they care about you, what you stand for, and why you’re doing what you’re doing.

And that’s where community comes in. Not followers. Not subscribers. Not “fans.”

Community.

Real people who give a damn about you because you give a damn about them.

People who stick around not because you’re selling them something, but because you’re giving them something.

Be it a perspective, a connection, a reason to feel like they’re part of something bigger than themselves. That’s the magic.

That’s the juice.

(Speaking of juice. I’m about to get a freshly brewed bean juice before it hits 6am…)

Building a community isn’t fast. It’s not sexy. It’s not the kind of thing that makes headlines. It’s slow, deliberate, and sometimes downright frustrating. You’re gonna feel like you’re shouting into the void some days.

But slow and steady? That’s how you build something that lasts.

See, the online space is shifting. People are jaded. They’ve seen the influencers with their rented Lambos and fake smiles and “Hey guys! Buy my thing!” energy.

They’re tired of it. They don’t want to be sold to.

They want to belong. And if you’re not giving them something real, something that makes them feel seen, heard, and valued, they’ll scroll right past you.

You’re just another face in the endless, mind-numbing feed of content.

(You see this shit every single day without fail on the business side of Facebook and LinkedIn)

Here’s a little trick THEY won’t tell you, though, and it’s a big one…

You need to stand for something.

You need to have a message, a view, a voice that’s so clear, so unapologetically you, that it either pulls people in like a goddamn magnet or pushes them away.

Polarise, my friend.

Be a lighthouse, not a disco ball.

Cult leaders figured this out a long time ago (minus the creepy Kool-Aid stuff)

They didn’t try to appeal to everyone. They didn’t water themselves down to be “likable.”

They found their people, Their ride-or-die believers by being so specific, so bold, so them that the right folks couldn’t help but follow.

And you? You can do the same.

But it takes guts. It takes consistency. It takes showing up, even when it feels like no one’s listening. It takes focusing on your audience, not just your numbers.

And it takes time. But here’s the good news…

The stuff you build slow and steady? It’s unshakeable. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t crumble when the algorithm changes or the platform shifts or the shiny new toy comes along.

So, here’s my challenge to you.

If you’ve found these emails awesome send a friend here https://stphnwlkr.com/list

Forward them this email so you can get them in to my world.

Secondly…

Forget about the follower count. Forget about the vanity metrics. Focus on your people. Find them. Serve them.

Build for them. Show up for them. And for the love of whiskey, make it fun. Entertain them. Delight them. Make them think, laugh, cry, whatever. Or like me, piss them off. Make them irrationally angry because you write ALL OF THE WORDS.

Just make them feel something.

Because when you do that?

When you build something real?

You win. Maybe not today. Maybe not next week. But in the long run?

You’re unstoppable.

Now, I’ve got more secrets. Oh, I’ve got plenty.

But I’m not spilling them all just yet. This is just a taste. Some brain food for the year ahead.

So chew on it. Sip your drink. Let it sink in. Then go out there and build. Slow. Steady. Relentless.

And hey, when you’re ready for round two? You know where to find me.

Stephen Walker

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

“Everything that happens to you is a form of instruction if you pay attention.” – Robert Greene, Mastery
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After I wrote yesterday’s email…

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(Read: This is what mastery looks like. One of my favorites in recent memory.)

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…I was reminded of a story from Kobe Bryant, who was close friends with Beyoncé.

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​As the story goes:

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Beyoncé would watch every single one of her shows, from start to finish, immediately after her performance was over…

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Studying each moment in detail, searching for opportunities to improve.

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Now, keep in mind:

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She is performing, more or less, the same show every night while on tour.

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So she’s watching the same damn show, every night.

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After performing it.

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Every night.

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Over.. and over… and over again.

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​Which is precisely the part most of us miss about the road to mastery.

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On stage, it looks like fireworks.

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But off stage, it looks like relentless, ruthless amounts of repetition.

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Months, years, and decades of repetition…

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Combined with a merciless commitment to learning, iterating, and improving.

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Similarly:

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​Kobe and Laker assistant coach Tex Winter used to watch tape of every game together.

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But not the television feed.

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The camera feed:

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Including warmups, time outs, half time, dead-ball time, and every other recorded moment, amounting to over four hours of tape per game.

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They didn’t just study moves and plays and game sequences, like most teams…

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​They also studied the energy and body language of players before, in-between, and after every game.

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Every game.

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All year long.

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No stone unturned.

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No detail missed.

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Now, I’m not saying you should do the same thing.

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But I am saying that if mastery is your goal, this is what it takes.

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It’s always slow, often boring, and rewards are never guaranteed.

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But damn if it isn’t glorious.

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• T

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​P.S. In case you missed it:

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​Here’s the link to yesterday’s email once more.

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Alright, slide that glass over here, and let’s get into it.

You know the drill.

Whiskey that smells like burnt jet fuel, a bar that’s seen better days, and you and me trying to figure out how to survive this weird, wonderful life as artists in a world obsessed with shiny new toys.

(If you missed the last post made for The League of Extraordinary Penmanship you can find it if you click this)

Let’s talk about that, yeah?

The shiny new toys.

The platforms. The apps. The trends. The “holy-shit-have-you-seen-this-new-platform-that’s-gonna-change-everything” kind of buzz.

Every damn time, people are losing their minds over the Next Big Thing like it’s a golden ticket to Wonka’s chocolate factory.

And hey, I get it. It’s tempting. It feels fresh, exciting. It’s a blank canvas with a million filters and the promise of virality if you just crack the code. But you know what it really is? Distraction.

No matter how shiny the platform, no matter how fresh the trend, the thing that will always make you win as an artist is showing up. Every. Damn. Day.

Consistency, baby.

It’s not sexy.

It’s not flashy.

It’s not gonna make headlines.

But it works.

It’s the grindstone your creativity sharpens itself on. It’s the glue that holds your relationship with your audience together.

Consistency is the unshakable truth that outlasts every algorithm change, every app update, and every “new hotness” that pops up like a caffeinated jack-in-the-box.

And yeah, I know. It’s boring. It’s exhausting. Some days, you’d rather crawl into a hole and let the squirrels adopt you than make another piece of content or put yourself out there again. But you do it anyway. Because showing up, even when you don’t want to, is what separates the people who dabble from the people who last.

Let me paint you a picture quick

Imagine you’re running a diner. Nothing fancy, just a cosy little spot where people come to eat, chat, and feel taken care of.

Now, imagine every week there’s a new restaurant opening down the street, all flash and flair, promising the moon and stars.

What do you do? You don’t try to out-flash them. You don’t burn yourself out chasing trends. You focus on your people.

You show up every morning, rain or shine, and make the best damn pancakes you can.

You learn your regulars’ names. You keep the coffee hot. You make the space welcoming, fun, maybe even a little weird in a way only you can pull off.

Before long, those shiny new places close their doors because they were all sizzle and no steak.

But you? You’ve got a line out the door. Your customers keep coming back because they trust you. They know you’re gonna show up and deliver. They’re not just customers anymore; they’re your people. Your tribe. Your army of pancake-eating loyalists.

It’s the same with your audience. Whether you’re an artist, a musician, a writer, a content creator, whatever (Like I’ve been harping on since forever) the people who follow you aren’t looking for perfection.

They don’t care if you’re on the newest platform or if your graphics are as slick as a used car salesman’s pitch.

They care that you show up. That you’re real. That you’re there for them, day in and day out, with something they can connect to.

The fun part. Because consistency doesn’t have to feel like dragging your soul across a bed of hot nails. If you make it fun, if you make it entertaining, not just for your audience but for you, it becomes something you actually look forward to.

You’re not just cranking out content to feed these big tech companies algorithm; you’re sharing little slices of yourself, your humour, your weirdness, your humanity.

That’s what keeps people coming back. That’s what makes them stick around, even when the next shiny platform rolls into town.

Look, I’m not saying you should ignore the new stuff entirely. Experiment, sure. Play around. But don’t let it pull you away from the bedrock of what you do. Showing up and creating. Tirelessly. Relentlessly. On the days it’s easy, and especially on the days it’s not. Because that’s the secret sauce, the thing that will keep your career alive long after the trends have turned to dust and the shiny toys have rusted over.

Just like in these emails where I share what’s swirling inside of my brain.

It’s about showing up. To the grind. To making it fun. And to building something so goddamn solid that no algorithm, no platform, no shiny new thing can ever take it away from you and if those pesky squirrels come along and wanna sabotage you…

You’re gonna show up tomorrow, the next day and forever onwards until you crossover to the other side…

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

“Mastery is the best goal because the rich can’t buy it, the impatient can’t rush it, the privileged can’t inherit it, and nobody can steal it. You can only earn it through hard work. Mastery is the ultimate status.” – Derek Sivers
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The difference between a skilled practitioner and a master is something like the difference between a millionaire and a billionaire:

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A billionaire is — literally — 1000x wealthier than a millionaire.

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They aren’t miles apart, they’re galaxies apart.

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​That’s what’s been on my mind since I landed in the Amazon jungle, two days ago.

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I’m here to guide a group of nine people through a two week plant medicine intensive, led by my core teacher:

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An indigenous man who has been practicing for over 40 years.

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Although “practicing” doesn’t quite describe what he’s done.

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​He has given his entire life to his craft…

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Handing over his mind, body, and spirit with a commitment so total it would make David Goggins blush.

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During his apprenticeship, he ran six healing ceremonies per week, working with ~30 people per night.

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(Imagine playing in a high-stakes playoff game that goes into multiple overtimes. Now imagine doing it six nights per week, for over a decade.)

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Then he woke up at 5 am the next morning to prepare plant medicine for the following night.

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​When he was finished, he would retreat into isolation to sit and practice in silence until it was time for another ceremony.

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No talking. No touching. No television.

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No doom scrolling.

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No distractions.

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His fuel:

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One meal per day; a piece of fish and a dry plantain.

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​He continued this protocol, with short breaks, for over 12 years.

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And that was just his apprenticeship.

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Today, at 60 years old, he is widely considered the greatest healer of his generation.

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He continues running 4-6 healing ceremonies per week, working on the front-lines of human suffering, going to battle with the darkest, most complex trauma the world has to offer, while training dozens of apprentices in the healing arts (myself included), passing down a 10,000 year old spiritual tradition that dates back to the earliest Amazonian shamans.

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​I love Kobe, but damn:

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Three workouts per day is child’s play.

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Now, to be clear:

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I do not share this as a recommendation.

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Most of us would die if we attempted it (that’s not an exaggeration; we would actually die).

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To do something this extreme…

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To give your life to your craft so totally…

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To turn yourself into a pure instrument of healing, for the sole purpose of helping others…

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​You must be called.

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You don’t choose a life like this, it chooses you.

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And yet, I can’t think of a more fulfilling way to live.

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Winning titles, making money, gaining followers, earning accolades and status and admiration…

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…All worldly achievements feel like sandbox games in the face of a master who has given his life to his craft.

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​And when I see him at work, I can’t help but imagine a world where we all find the life we’re chosen for.

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Where we all aim higher than the level of our eye-line, beyond the flat, well-worn path that leads to a knowable destination.

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Where the call within leads us off-road, to carve our own trail towards an unknown summit high in the cloudy distance.

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Where we’re not moved by our own force, but by a force of nature.

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The force of spirit itself.

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May we all hear that call, in our lives.

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And, when it comes:

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May we rise to answer it.

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• T

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Parkinson’s Law is a ruthless bitch. “Work expands to fill the time available for its completion.”

Sounds elegant, right? It’s a fancy way of saying we’re all professional procrastinators

For years, I fed myself the same excuses

I need more time to polish this, I need to research more, I’m not ready

Lies. All lies I told myself while binge-watching an entire series on Netflix

You know what happened when I started giving myself ridiculously short deadlines?

Black magic, that’s what.

Suddenly, that novel I’d been “planning” for 5 years materialised in 30 days

That writing course that was going to be my masterpiece? BAM!

The outline was knocked out in a week of creative frenzy

It’s not that quality suffers, it’s that your brain stops masturbating to the idea of perfection and starts producing

It’s like when you have a deadline with a well-paying client

…somehow, mysteriously, you always find a way to deliver

So here’s my advice, unvarnished

Set absurd deadlines. Be unreasonable. If you think something will take a month, give yourself a week

If you think you need a year, do it in three months

Stop planning. Stop preparing. Stop polishing that first line until it shines like a cherub’s ass.

Just write, damn it.

And if you need more motivation, picture this…

While you’re perfecting that first chapter for the millionth time, some idiot out there is publishing their tenth mediocre book and making real money

Hurts, doesn’t it? Good. Use that pain

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

“Trustage.” Yes, it’s a made-up word and if you just rolled your eyes, congratulations, you’re already in the club of people who understand that all words are made up anyway.

(Seriously, someone just pointed at a tree one day and said, “That’s a tree,” and we all nodded like, “Yeah, sure, makes sense.” Words are weird. Welcome to the chaos.)

But “Trustage” isn’t just a word, it’s a philosophy. A principle. A rallying cry for writers, artists, marketers, and all of us who traffic in the art of Make Believe. It’s about trusting your audience. Trusting that they’re sharp, savvy, and smart enough to get it.

Too many storytellers (and marketers and, let’s be honest, the guy who explains the plot of a movie to you while you’re literally watching it) don’t trust their audience. They spoon-feed them every detail, double underline every point, and then add a PowerPoint presentation for good measure. And what they’re really saying is…

“Hey, buddy, I don’t think you’re clever enough to figure this out on your own.”

Which is insulting. It’s like handing someone a fork and then showing them an instructional video on how to stab the broccoli.

Personally, I’m a big fan of not doing that. My job isn’t to hold your hand and walk you through the woods. My job is to drop you in the middle of the forest with a compass and a wink, and trust that you’ll find your way out and probably with a cool story to tell when you do.

Audiences (readers, customers, clients, whoever) are amazing. They’re capable of piecing things together, of connecting dots, of getting it without you having to spell it out like a kindergarten teacher on a caffeine bender.

So, a blood oath. Okay, maybe not blood. A coffee oath. Let’s agree to give our audiences what they need, just enough breadcrumbs to lead them to the gingerbread house and leave the rest to their brilliant minds. Let’s give them that Trustage.

Because when you trust your audience, magic happens. Stories resonate. Products shine. People feel seen and respected. And bonus!…you don’t have to work so hard trying to explain everything like a human Wikipedia.

So write the thing. Paint the picture. Sell the product. Trust your audience to figure it out. They’re smarter than you think. (And if they’re not? Well, that’s on them. You did your part. You’re awesome. Go eat a cookie.)

Yours in Trustage,

Stephen Walker
https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

Maker of Words, Believer in Breadcrumbs, Giver of Winks and observer of squirrels who may be a plotting shenanigans…

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

Subtext aka the implied meaning is something you’re seeing a lot more of nowadays.

People saying one thing but meaning the complete opposite.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe everyone is becoming a lot more introverted.

Maybe it’s just the weather.

Or maybe everyone just needs a little time out.

“I’m fine” doesn’t mean they’re fine.

It usually means the opposite. The person is upset, angry, or hurt but doesn’t want talk about it.

“We should do lunch sometime.”

Which might sound genuine off the rip.

But we all know it’s often a polite brush-off with no real intention to meet.

I mean you don’t wanna come out for burritos? More for me I guess?

Subtext is fun though

If you’re writing dialogue for a character it can draw the reader in.

Use contradictions between words and actions:

“Sure, everything’s great,” she said, shredding the napkin into tiny pieces.

Leave statements incomplete:

“If you’d just listen—”
“I always listen.”
“Like that time when—”
“Don’t.”

Create context gaps viewers must fill:

“You know what day it is.”
“I thought we agreed never to mention that again.”

Or if you’re writing advertising copy:

Plant Easter eggs that reward close attention

“Some secrets are worth keeping. Others are worth sharing.” (For a social media app)

Use double meanings that click on a second viewing

“It runs in the family” (Could be for: genetics testing, shoes, or hereditary diseases)

Layer multiple interpretations

“What else aren’t they telling you?” (Creates paranoia while positioning your brand as transparent)

The key is to:

Never explain the subtext

Reward pattern recognition

Make solving the puzzle satisfying

Leave room for multiple valid interpretations

Create "aha" moments that make people feel clever

Little bonus for writing VSLs:

“Like you, I used to believe what my doctor told me about cholesterol.
[Subtext: The medical establishment isn’t telling the whole truth]

I followed all the rules. Avoided eggs. Chose low-fat everything. Took the prescribed medications.
[Subtext: You’re doing everything “right” but still failing]

Then last October, while organizing my father’s garage, I found an old leather journal. What I discovered inside changed everything…
[Subtext: Secret knowledge passed down/hidden from public]

To tie it all together. Subtext is a powerful way to communicate your message and there’s honestly an art to crafting writing that drips with it.

I’ll write a more in depth post on this but this was just a quick off the cuff idea to get your brain-meats going.

Now I’m off to go get some burritos before 22:00

Stephen Walker
https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I guess I can grab some burritos for the squirrels cause they’ve been spying pretty hard lately…

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom