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Someone up there is using England as their own personal microwave.

Whether it’s Aliens, God or if we’re in some simulation like The Matrix.

It’s been hot.

Not nice hot.

Flesh is slowly cooking into a nice medium rare kind of hot.

And… as much as us Brits like to moan about it being too hot. It also gets too cold and everyone knows we wouldn’t be British if we didn’t whine about the weather every now and then.

Now as much as I was watching my laptop slowly transform into a makeshift George Foreman grill today.

My brain’s been about as functional as a chocolate teapot in this weather, and the only thought bouncing around my head was whether it was socially acceptable to work naked at my local Starbucks.

Sadly it was not.

But anyways. I’m trying too pool together some ideas and it just struck me. This is exactly what bad copy feels like to your readers…

When you blast them with the same tired, overheated bullshit that every other marketer is spewing. When you hit them with stuff like;

“Revolutionary solutions”

“Game changing opportunities”

“Market leading innovation”

Now as much as it feels like you’re forcing them to stand in this bastard heat wearing a three piece suite made of buzzwords…

There is a different play at hand.

Personally I’d like to be the ice cold bottle of whatever-the-fuck that your readers desperately need right now.

The kind that makes them go “oh thank fuck” when they find it. Gulp it down and can breathe a sigh of relief.

And so it just comes back to doing the basics and not sounding like some corporate shitlord.

And while it does sound difficult to do. It’s really not.

It’s as easy as writing like you’re sitting in their kitchen at 3 am, having a real conversation.

Not like you’re presenting a PowerPoint to a board of directors who stopped giving a shit sometime around slide two.

And even when my brain is shutting down cause of the heat. I’m reminded that the best writing, which is the kind that actually sells, isn’t about being clever or professional or whatever corporate buzzword bingo you’re playing.

It’s just the type that is raw and real and filled with genuine emotion.

And so with everything. Go back to the basics.

If you’re wanting brush up on how to write to sell.

Well… Write to Sell by Andy Maslen will give you a slap upside the head.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to stick my head in the freezer and contemplate whether this is what dinosaurs felt like just before that meteor hit.

Stephen Walker

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

I wasn’t going to write an email today.

Truth be told this week has been meh at most.

Just loads of niggly bits of stupid shit cropping up that makes you want to opt out of doing anything productive. The kind of petty annoyances that make you want to crawl back into bed and tell the universe to go fuck itself with a rusty spork.

The thing is though. I have to show up regardless of whether or not I want to cause nobody is going to do it for me.

Nobody’s gonna swoop in wearing a cape made of solved problems and finished tasks.

(Would be epic if they did lol)

Life has a funny way of fucking with us and it’s honestly just the way we respond to it that sets us apart.

I could let it kick me right in the nether bits and have a day of whining and cursing…

(And believe me, I’ve got a colourful vocabulary ready to deploy. I could string together profanities that would make a sailor blush and a poet weep)

Or I could try and muster up a little bit of energy and turn it into a somewhat okay-ish post.

Every. Single. Day.

You’re making a choice.

You’re either obsessed or you’re average.

There’s no magical middle ground where you get to half ass your way to greatness while binge watching Netflix and complaining about how unfair life is. That’s not how this works.

And as much as I don’t really dig the next dude I’m gonna mention…

Grant Cardone nailed it when he said you gotta be obsessed or be average.

Average is the slow death of everything you could’ve been. Average is looking back at 80 and wondering what the fuck happened to all those dreams you had.

Nobody gives a shit about your bad week. The world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re having a moment. Bills don’t pay themselves. Dreams don’t manifest through wishful thinking and vision boards.

You want extraordinary? Then be fucking extraordinary about showing up.

Even on the meh days.

So yeah, I wrote this email. Not because I wanted to. Not because inspiration struck like lightning. But because obsessed people do what average people won’t.

And tomorrow?

I’ll be in your inbox again.

Be obsessed or be average and if you don’t have anything to obsess over. You best get looking, cause the grim reaper is coming for all of us…

Stephen Walker

P.S. I’d 100% recommend getting the audio version of Be Obsessed or Be Average cause Grant has the type of accent that just inspires you to get motivated.

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

Nothing sucker punches the dopamine goblin quite like dropping your carcass into a chair and wrenching the cap off a frost slick bottle of bubbly brain fuel…

(Iced latte before 8pm is a good idea lol)

Followed by reading, your very own, palm sweat absorbent printed thingamajig…

Magazine, book, ransom note looking love letter…

Anywho…

Being able to touch, clutch, and violently yeet yourself offline, if only for a heartbeat, is crawling back into fashion like I dunno? A zombie in fishnets?

One of my favourite word nerds Chuck Wendig just wrote a love letter about magazines.

Skim it if you dare.

But I’ve been talking about this for years (in emails, on the socials, tattooed on my left thigh, duh)

…nothing beats a slab of atoms you can actually grip, flip, and inhale like weird paper cocaine. Then slink off to your blanket fort and devour words in peace. Your world and your world only.

We used to do that often as kids. Why did we stop?

The thing is. Look around.

Brains = fried courtesy of TikTok jump cuts, Insta dopamine drips, and the looming possibility of WW3

(Politics? Pass me the bleach cocktail)

It’s exhausting and soul sucking-ly depressing to try and juggle all of this bullshit.

Nobody yanks their eyes off the their sadness rectangle long enough to meet another human.

When did we auction off our humanity for infinite scroll?

I hate that we’re all living 0 to 120mph in two seconds instead of taking the scenic route, sniffing a pine tree, maybe getting mildly possessed by forest gremlins and just letting our imagination take us anywhere but here.

Don’t worry. Irony noted. This email is being punched out via keyboard.

But the second I smack SEND.

I’m going back to pen and paper.

Yes. I know a heap of us keep the rent paid by flinging pixels at the internet and charging for it.

But we also need to look after our sanity. Best way? Write something analogue or, bare minimum, snatch a physical mag. Could be The Onion so you can ugly laugh, or a niche zine about cataloguing the 311 species of frogs in Madagascar…

Just do it.

Your dopamine receptors will build a tiny shrine in your honour probably.

Stephen Walker

P.S. Craving something hand written? I gotchu. Drop a reply with your details and I’ll make it happen even if I’ve gotta duct tape the note to a slightly unhinged carrier pigeon.

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

Here’s one of my favourite poems by ol’ Bukowski

When you’re really in need of a little kick up the ass. Read this

if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start. 



if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.


go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine. 



if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire. 



do it, do it, do it.
do it. 



all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is. 

A lot of the times I’ll just sit and go through his work.

He is my favourite poet and I’ve been reading his stuff on and off since I was a teen.

Love is a Dog from Hell is one of my favourite collections and you should definitely add it to your library.

Stephen Walker

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

I’ve had enough espresso to stun a yak and I’m about to go off. So buckle up.

Today has been a day. And looks like it’s gonna be even MORE of a day with the pending war that’s about to unfold…

Don’t click a way though.

This isn’t another preachy “here’s how you 10x your dopamine” type post you’ll see all over the place.

I’m just going to lightly touch on Maslow’s Hierarchy.

Weird pyramid thingy we learnt about in school, right?

The one every self help bro brings up after their ayahuasca retreat…

Most people lately? They get stuck at the glittery bits. Wants, not needs. Sprinkles, not bread.

And it’s not even their fault, cause we all get suckered in.

IT’S THE SYSTEM or tHe aLgOrItHm

The “Hey, you’re missing out unless you buy this” dopamine drip marketing machine.

Especially the ones that have those massive fake timers that are gonna run out in 30 minutes but if you refresh the page 9 weeks later. Well well well…

It’ starts again lol.

Don’t get me wrong. We’ve all had that weird urge to buy a $97 course on underwater basket weaving because some guy with a rented Lamborghini says it’ll change your life.

Wants are easy. Wants are like sugar.

Needs?

Needs are like broccoli. They kinda try and keep us alive.

They sell wants. Wants are easy, fast, and dead on arrival.

Now like me. You’re a little cynical and with good measure.

That’s just cause we’re smarter than that.

(I mean you’re still here in my world, reading my ramblings and such)

And I know you didn’t come here for another dopamine hit. You came for the real shit…

So I’m gonna give my main man Drew Eric Whitman. The Ca$hvertising legend, possibly also a warlock a little love.

Now he has a little thing called “Life Force 8.”

They’re eight primal needs that actually move the needle.

Survival, enjoyment of life, life extension (aka “Don’t die, maybe even have fun”)

Enjoyment of food and beverages (carbs, glorious carbs)

Freedom from fear, pain, danger (no tigers, please)

Sexual companionship (swipe right, but for your soul)

Comfortable living conditions (not a cardboard box in a hurricane)

To be superior, winning, keeping up with the Joneses (Petty? Maybe. Human? Absolutely)

Care and protection of loved ones (cue the Pixar montage)

Social approval (like this post, validate my existence)

Now, if you’re selling “wants,” what you’re really doing is renting a customer’s attention for six seconds before they bounce to the next shiny thing.

But if you sell to their needs?

You’ve got them.

Not just for a day. Not just for a Black Friday blitz.

You become a staple. You become the bread, not the sprinkles.

Here’s a quick scene:

Customer A: Buys your course because it’s “trending.” Never opens it. Maybe uses it as a coaster for their third coffee of the day.

Customer B: Buys your solution because it solves an actual pain point. They stick. They stay. They tell their friends. (Maybe even their therapist)

You want the second one. The ride or die. The “holy hell, where has this been all my life” customer.

Going after needs wins every time.

You get more retention. Nobody ditches oxygen, right?

You get loyalty. Because you actually solved something real.

You get referrals. Real impact? People talk. (Sometimes too much. But, hey, free marketing and such)

So if I had to slap it together as some sort of writing advice and/or marketing shiz in bullet point list format it’d be something like this:

Wants = fidget spinner.

Needs = running water.

Wants = sugar rush.

Needs = complex carbs.

Wants = one night stand.

Needs = messy, real, “help me bury a body” type marriage.

You get the idea.

So next time you’re crafting your pitch, your offer, your “Hey, buy this thing!” email…

Ask yourself. Are you selling sprinkles, or are you selling bread?

Sell the bread.

Be the bread.

Or at least a damn good sandwich.

Stephen Walker.

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