Blog

Here’s a little monster of a manifesto, all jangly bones and loud squawks, just for you.

I was asked about why I write and I always meet that answer slightly differently because it’s forever evolving.

So let me tell you something true. A bit of real talk.

I do not give a rabid raccoon’s ass if you read my emails or posts or gory scribbles or sweary-word-laced stories. Seriously.

Apathy, has set up a lawn chair inside my soul and is enjoying a tall glass of I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn.

And here’s why…

I write because it’s what I do. It’s an all-consuming, devouring flame that would fry me from the inside out if I didn’t push these words through my fingertips like demonic confetti. Love it, hate it, read it, ignore it. Whatever.

But don’t mistake me. You are all voyeurs…

Peeping through my digital curtains, rummaging around for the hot stuff. And I see you. I see your eyeballs lurking in the internet shadows, waiting to pounce when something hits that sweet spot. (We can call it a “viral moment,” but it’s really just some weird stellar asteroid thingy lining up like some vampire goose cackle to say, “Hey, read this, or else!”)

And that’s when you’ll show up, face in the light, making yourself known. Maybe you’ll tweet me. Maybe you’ll show up in my DMs, or buy me a coffee. Maybe you’ll just give me this Internet-tap on the shoulder: “Hey, friend, read your thing. Took some action.” And that’s cool like a chilled margarita, but it’s also not the goal. The goal is the writing. That intangible bliss of words frothing over like a cappuccino machine gone haywire.

(Side note: Last time I used a cappuccino machine I nearly set everything on fire. So yeah. Use that knowledge however…)

Could you read every little shred of nonsense I shovel onto a page? Sure. Do I need you to? Absolutely not. But if you do, you do. My heart grows three sizes, Grinch-style. If you don’t, I’ll keep tapping away anyway because that’s the thing about being a writer of words. You do it because you can’t not do it. No different than a cat hacking up hairballs. It’s gonna happen no matter who’s watching.

So read, don’t read, peep like a creeper or share it with your mother-in-law. I’m not bothered either way. Because I’m over here, feeling the itch in my fingers, collecting stray syllables and weird phrases from the wind, spinning them into something, anything and that’s the real payoff. The words are the spark. The rest? Just icing on the weird, wonderful, writerly cake.

Cheers for sticking around so far.

Stephen Walker
https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I wrote this on the apple notes app and you know what, it’s not that bad, except I did drop the phone on my face a few times. So I guess it’s time to get out of bed, grab a coffee and do some more of that writer-ly stuff.

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

England. November 2012. The kind of day where the sky pisses misery and the clouds look like they’re having an existential crisis. Because of course it is. Because England.

I’m feeling fine. Absolutely fine. This is important because spoiler alert…

I was absolutely not fine. My body was basically running a silent self-destruct sequence while my brain was all “THIS IS FINE” like that meme with the dog in the burning house.

So I waltz into work, right?

Coffee in hand, ready to corporate the shit out of my day.

And everyone.

EVERYONE

Looks at me like I’m wearing a banana costume.

Turns out, I basically was.

My skin had gone full-on YELLOW.

Not “oh you look a bit peaked” yellow. We’re talking “holy shit you’re cosplaying as Springfield’s finest” yellow.

I still felt fine though…

(Narrator: They were not, in fact, fine.)

Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital, getting turned into a human pin cushion. They’re shoving needles in my arms like they’re trying to recreate a connect-the-dots puzzle with bruises. By the end, I looked like I’d gone twelve rounds with an angry octopus wielding ink needles.

The IV drip becomes my new best friend.

My arms look like a roadmap of bad decisions, but hey, at least I’m not doing my best impression of a banana anymore.

48 hours and approximately 47 gallons of blood samples later, the doc drops the bomb…

Epstein-Barr Virus.

Because apparently my immune system decided to take a vacation without telling the rest of me.

How did I catch it? Who knows? The universe sometimes just decides to play Russian roulette with your organs for shits and giggles.

But here’s the real mind-fuck that settled in.

There’s nothing quite like almost dying to make you realise how much of your daily stress is complete horseshit.

Nothing like a near-death experience to make you go “Huh, maybe that passive-aggressive email from Karen in accounting isn’t actually the end of the world.”

But a simple life lesson: If your co-workers at the time tell you you’re yellow, maybe don’t argue.

Maybe just… you know… Go to the hospital!

And it got me thinking…

We’re all just temporary meat-puppets piloting bone-mechs covered in flesh-armor, and our time here is shorter than a hamster’s attention span.

So what the HELL are you waiting for?

That story you’ve been sitting on? WRITE IT.
That art you’ve been dreaming of? MAKE IT.
That idea that keeps you up at 3 AM? BUILD IT.

Death doesn’t give a tap-dancing fuck about your excuses. It doesn’t care that you’re “not ready” or that “the timing isn’t right” or that “maybe next year will be better.”

Every breath is borrowed time. And you know what? That’s not scary. That’s beautiful. That’s motivation wrapped in a mortality bow.

I didn’t get yellow as a banana and nearly kick the bucket just to come back and scroll through social media until my eyes gushed blood. Neither did you survive whatever chaos tornado sucked you in and spit you out to just exist like a houseplant.

CREATE.
MAKE.
DO.

Cause we should all know that the he only thing worse than death is reaching it with our songs still unsung, our stories still untold, and our art still locked in the prison of our mind.

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I’m locking myself inside of my murder shed and going to town on my writing. Deadlines need to be hit and that word count ain’t gonna write itself.

P.P.S It’s been cold here and the squirrels have lost interest.

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

Sometimes we need to deep-dive into the art of documenting our murderous impulses…

We all have bad days.

And this is purely for a creative point of view and a little exercise that’ll unstuck your brain meats.

So grab a coffee, pen, piece of paper or even your nearest word processor and inside your own rage-tinted reality, go to war with your imagination.

Let that rage-fury-flag-fly.

For 20 minutes write about every justified grievance from your point of view:

Each eye twitch and blood vessel pop

All the reasons you’re the hero of this story

That thing they said about your mom in 7th grade

Don’t hold back. This is your villain origin story. Make it SING with righteous anger. Let your keyboard or notepad catch fire with the intensity of your completely rational desire to introduce their face to your fist.

Once your time is up take a little break and the sit down again.

This time around. Another 20 minutes, but this time…

You’re walking in the devils shoes.

You’re the other person who felt the wrath of 20 minutes ago you. You’re wiping yourself off from the floor. Bloody and bruised.

Now it’s time to tell your version.

What unholy logic drove their actions?

What broken brain chemistry made them think that was okay?

How does it feel to be so catastrophically wrong about everything?

Once that’s done and the dust has settled.

A final 5 minutes is needed.

It’s the sobering truth.

It’s the 3rd wheel. The final POV.

And here’s where it gets real.

Strip away the drama, the coffee jitters, and the murder fantasies. What actually happened?

Were you both assholes?

Was anyone actually right?

What came out of it?

Why does this work so well?

Catharsis through creative violence

Perspective-shifting is a great tool

Truth-finding through exhaustion

When you take an idea and split it into 3 points of view while telling the same story. It opens up a whole different world for when you need to do some serious writing and analysing.

Sometimes you’re the hero, sometimes you’re the villain, and sometimes you’re just an asshole having a bad day and everyone was just sitting back, watching…

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I haven’t lost my mind. This is just a fun exercise.
P.P.S. It’s Friday and this was written without pants.

Writing about wanting to punch someone is always better than actually punching them. Usually. Terms and conditions apply. Results may vary. Consult your lawyer before proceeding.

(Side effects may include: reduced rage, increased empathy, and a concerning addiction to perspective exercises.)

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

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
​

Here’s a list of realizations that are depressing in the short term, but will make you happier in the long-term:
​
​You can’t fix everything.
​
​Some problems will not be solved in your lifetime; you will live with them forever.
​
Whether this bothers you or not is up to you.
​
​Love isn’t enough.
​
​Falling in love doesn’t mean it’ll work out, just like doing what you love doesn’t mean money will follow.
​
If you thought a happy ending was guaranteed, welcome to the wrong fairytale.
​
​Neither is hard work.
​
​Working really, really hard doesn’t mean you’ll make it, and neither does “working smart.”
​
The truth is:
​
​You might just not be good enough.
​
​Genetics are a b*tch.
​
And, in case we forgot to add insult to injury:
​
​Suffering doesn’t end.
​
​If you’re expecting to wake up one day with all of your problems solved, stay in bed.
​
(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).
​
​Well, damn.
​
​That… sucks?
​
Maybe.
​
Before we go walking into the ocean with rocks in our pockets, there’s a catch:
​
​None of this is a problem.​
​
Reality ‘aint got no problems; she’s been running this show a lot longer than we’ve been playing it.
​
Problems aren’t a reality thing, they’re a human thing:
​
A thing we create by expecting reality be different than it is.
​
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.
​
So, while the childhood move is to wish reality to be as we want it to be…
​
The adult move is to meet reality as it is so we can deal with it productively.
​
You still might not get what you wanted, but you’ll be happier for it.
​

• T
  ​
  ​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​

​

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

​

​
​
​

​Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 5-420 Erb St. W, Suite 433, Waterloo, ON N2L6K6

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
​

After I wrote yesterday’s email…

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

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

​
​As the story goes:

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

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

​
Now, keep in mind:

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

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

​
After performing it.

​
Every night.

​
Over.. and over… and over again.

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

​
On stage, it looks like fireworks.

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

​
Months, years, and decades of repetition…

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

​
Similarly:

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

​
But not the television feed.

​
The camera feed:

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

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

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

​
Every game.

​
All year long.

​
No stone unturned.

​
No detail missed.

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

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

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

​
But damn if it isn’t glorious.

​

• T

​
​P.S. In case you missed it:

​

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

​

​

​

​
​
​

​Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 5-420 Erb St. W, Suite 433, Waterloo, ON N2L6K6

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