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I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!
The characters, desires, tensions and journeys happening in people's minds. There are 247 posts in this topic.
People seem to be growing increasingly politically charged about the products they choose and the brands they associate with.
Three camps seem to have emerged:
Camp 1: Burn all the baddies. This camp will forgo tools that improve their craft in favor of a political stance. I understand the thinking. But making yourself worse to spite them, doesn’t spite them, only yourself.
Camp 2: Reasonably avoid the baddies. This camp will make smart choices when choices are presented. They’ll shop based on what’s good for their craft, and good for their soul. But they won’t get caught up in the political opinion of every employee of every brand they buy from, knowing that will only lead to buying nothing at all.
Camp 3: I don’t care. This camp just doesn’t care, and will use whatever advances their cause, come what may.
I think we all get to choose where on the spectrum we operate. I’m in “Camp 2”, for instance.
But perhaps more importantly, we all get to choose where on the spectrum our own brands operate, as that dictates what camp we attract to our own work.
It’s a psychographic that continues to grow, and one worth pondering.
Silly is underestimated by serious people.
And that’s pretty silly.
Silly is seen as careless, empty, clownish, or something “the intern that didn’t stick around” brought to the table.
Silly should be seen as playful (like people we like), confident (like people we like), energizing (like people we like), and remark-able (like products and ideas we like).
Mascots. Charming error pages. Product demos that feel like tiny adventures rather than slidedecks. Cartoons that use inside-jokes and culture to make their points faster than whitepapers, while building relational equity along the way. A founder that doesn’t look like every other founder on LinkedIn ever.
We want our brands to have personalities like people our audience would like to be around. We want our brands to share products and ideas like those our audience would like to be around.
Perhaps it’s time to take silly seriously.
Since knowledge creation is accelerating at such a rate, it surfaces a question we should have been focused on more in the past:
What’s worth knowing?
We used to read more books, listen to more podcasts, read yet more books, more more… because more knowledge is… better?
But now, it isn’t.
In 2026, ~10% of active web pages are AI generated. ~50% of published articles are AI generated. 79% of images posted on visual social platforms are AI generated. Even 57.5% of web requests (ie people reading this stuff) are bots. The machines are outnumbering us in both creation and consumption.
It leaves us with the question: what’s actually worth consuming, now?
The answer may be to re-read the things you already have that are making a measurable difference, just to meditate on their ideas.
The answer may be to be hyper-critical of your sources, moreso than ever.
Or to distill your learning to the highest quality options.
Or to the ones that suit your personality best.
Or are designed to move you.
Or some combination of the above.
It’s time to be more discerning. Machines took over the median, the average. That’s not where humans belong. Not anymore.
Never been more excited to be involved in the education space than I am now.
Build in affiliation and status into your project.
Folks have lots of reasons to buy, go to, or join something…
But behind those reasons often lies affiliation and status.
Why do people buy iPhones? Affiliation with the blue-bubble crowd and other Apple enthusiasts. Status of feeling like a modern, creative professional who can afford it.
Why do people buy things from Mr. Edutainment? Affiliation with others who think growth should be fun, and aspiration alignment in pursuit of a fresh exciting brand of their own. Status of wanting being seen as someone for whom their ongoing development is high priority, career prestige, and ahead of the game in modern leadership.
Why do people buy your thing? There may be some clues in your your answer to those two ingredients.
“For Crocs, Niles represents a long-term strategy in storytelling meant to deepen the emotional connection with consumers in ways that extend beyond any single product launch, campaign or collaboration. Niles is more than a mascot – he is a character with his own personality, voice, perspective and ambitions,” — Terence Reilly, chief brand officer at Crocs.
Niles is a big green crocodile character, based on the croc graphic on the side of their shoes.
I love it.
Storytelling and deeper connection with consumers are essential vehicles for transmitting education, ideas, vision, and belief.
Whether you’re teaching kids how to count, or how to look after your feet, a big green crocodile is plenty qualified.
Hopefully, they use the opportunity well, and let him be more than just a two-dimensional shoe spokesperson.
I queued for the original iPhone.
I queued for the original iPad.
I don’t queue for things anymore.
When Apple meant something… when it told a story about revering artists, thinkings, makers, doers… that story was worth queuing for.
And buying the story just so happened to come with a small black rectangle as a souvenir.
It doesn’t mean anything anymore, and so I don’t queue.
Those affections now lie with more nuanced things, like specific japanese brush pens I can’t get enough of, as they continue to tell a story that resonates with me.
Clearly, Apple is doing fine. But most of us don’t benefit from trying to glean insights from multi-trillion dollar strategies. Most of us benefit from seeing what moves people, what stories they tell themselves, what change they seek to make, and equipping them with that, instead.
Then perhaps they’d like what we make as souvenirs along the way, too.
eBay surprised me today.
When cleaning out a room we’re turning into our home library, we found a boxed/sealed toy I bought years ago but forgot about.
We were about to wholesale it away with some other items, but I checked eBay quickly on a hunch.
People were selling it for hundreds.
A Series 1 figure of a franchise that, to my knowledge, doesn’t exist anymore.
And it got me thinking: that is branding.
People on the internet, looking for — and buying — 22 year old boxed figurines of your thing. You wouldn’t know it by any MBA or economist’s definition of branding. Their cash register didn’t ring, so it didn’t happen.
But it did happen.
And so few brands optimize for it: of being sought after even after you’re gone, by a loyal fanbase who love what you’ve made, to adorn their places of meaning with a bit of your meaning, because of what they believe it says about them.
Put more succinctly, for people to love and look forward to more of your work.
Worth investing in, perhaps?
Marketing teams could learn a lot from scriptwriters.
A lousy script starts with the script, then works on the logline (a one-line summary of the whole story designed to pique interest and draw people closer).
A great script starts with the logline, finds interest in that logline (modifying it until it resonates) then fleshes out into the full script.
Marketers do the same thing.
Bad marketing starts by just demanding what should be sold, then finding ways to pitch it to people.
Good marketing starts by demanding to better understand what change people want to make, then fleshing out the answer into what should be sold.
There are lots of examples like this. Perhaps we should explore more of them in future notes, we’ll see.
For now, it’s worth pondering scriptwriting, or reading about how the process works if you’re unfamiliar.
It might be really illuminating for you.
Some designers have a 12-month waitlist.
Some designers are nervous about finding their next gig because an MBA told them to keep raising their prices.
Some designers are desperate for their next gig at any price.
If we assume they all do great work for a moment… why are their pipelines so different?
The first designer with the waitlist has a reputation for what they do, and those who see the waitlist find as much value in the waiting as they do in the final product. The wait is part of the service, and it’s one that makes people feel like they’re in the right place.
The second designer did what the gurus tell them to do. Charge more, ramp up production, template what they do for economies of scael, outsource to the lowest bidder, maximize profits. Except now they’ve put their greed before their craft, and that doesn’t make as compelling a story for the buyer, even if it’s what economists recommend.
The third designer has a story, too. One of desperation, which isn’t an appealing story to buy either.
Interestingly, the one that ignored the economists, slowed down, did their best, even against the headwinds of “can you do it faster”, had the best story of them all.
Your work may not fit into the metaphor at all.
But the metaphor serves as useful context when you ask yourself, “What’s your story?”
How will our loved ones remember us when we’re gone?
It’s something that has been on my mind lately. A lot.
Money? Nah. We won’t be remembered for now much cash we made.
Time spent working? Nope. That time was lost to those we love.
Home? A bit. But the memories we made together, not market price.
Accolades? Not really. Loved ones won’t care what the others thought.
Writing? Totally. It captures our minds, so loved ones can still experience us.
Creations we’re proud of? Totally. It’s something loved ones can enjoy when we’re gone.
Phone-free fully-focused family time? Totally. This is what they’ll remember most of all.
Puts things into perspective.
Worth building your priority list around.
People seem to follow one of two things.
Internet celebrities, hustlers and tech-bros? Many of them follow the money, making and saying whatever must be made or said to increase their share.
Artists, writers, and other creatives? Many of them also follow the money. But others follow their love of their craft, making and saying whatever must be made or said to increase their love for their craft, and the contribution they can make with it.
It’s not usually hard to tell what a person follows. Spend a few moments talking with them and your gut will probably know.
We can’t really fully avoid the former. There are too many of them, powering too much of our infrastructure, to avoid them.
But we can certainly seek out the latter. And support them with our attention, our support, and our dollars. Because with enough support, they’ll be unavoidable, too.
In rooms full of businessfolk, they tend to compare based on valuations and net worths. Numbers.
In rooms full of artists and writers, they tend to compare based on tenure and experience in their craft. Time spent with the craft.
If you don’t enjoy the conversations or comparisons, it could be the green eyed monster… Or it could simply be that you’re in the wrong room.
Public speakers memorize their talks so they can repeat it to others.
Storytellers tell stories others remember so they’ll repeat it to others.
There’s room for both in this world.
But if you have the opportunity, try to be the latter.
I’m doing a painting for my wife’s birthday.
(Hopefully she doesn’t read this before her birthday!)
Why?
Because art requires love, care, commitment, patience, and time.
Those are all more important things than the spending of money.
I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me sooner.
When you truly care, engage in the exchange of love, care, commitment, patience, and time.
When you don’t, well, there’s always money.
My Mum talked about her “fantasy world” to me when she was on end-of-life care.
She’d read old childrens books, entranced by the artwork and the stories.
When I got her another for her birthday, she enjoyed reading it, saying it was a lovely addition to her “fantasy world”.
A place she could go, even when she couldn’t go anywhere.
I’ve long enjoyed an inner “fantasy world” too, and never knew we had this in common until the very end.
If you have one, talk about it. Share it.
If you don’t have one, I can’t recommend it enough.
Because you’re always free in your fantasy world, even when your body starts to fail you.
Most of the thoughts I share in this journal never get posted on social media etc.
Because the objective of these words isn’t to get likes or attention.
The objective of these words is to help me discover what I think, and to share the journey of those thoughts with those who care in the future.
Perhaps future-me, looking back on past ideas. Perhaps my son, getting to know what I was thinking about when he was too young to ask. Perhaps you, looking for other perspectives on topics you hold dear.
You don’t need a good reason to start journaling and publishing.
You’re more likely to need a good reason not to.
Life is too short to merely follow all the rules, do your job, pay your taxes, and pass away.
Much too short.
Forget the rules. Forget the status games. Forget the comparisons and trinkets and nonsense.
Make your thing, love your people, and forget those still caught up in the nonsense.
Life is simply way, way, way too short.
We should write more. Draw more. Make more.
Not because it’s for a project. Just “because”. For the hell of it.
Because when we’re gone, it’s all that remains.
And those who love us might really thank us for leaving more of ourselves behind for them to cherish.
Mascots are back on the rise.
Duolingo’s participatory, contextual expressions that transcend the app to the icon itself.
Pepsi bringing back Coke’s polar bear to anthropomorphise rivalry.
Apple’s ‘Little Finder’ to promote the Neo to Gen Z.
They’re back. Because they’re full of personality, let people direct relational equity to that personality, form bonds and feel like they’re entering a world, not just buying a product.
I’ve been advocating for mascots since forever.
This isn’t an “I told you so”, but it’s absolutely a “don’t be afraid to bring your work to life with personality because you think it might make you look silly”.
Multi-trillion dollar companies seem to get on just fine with it.
There are two stories being told, when you build something.
The first is the story you tell others. Every product, service and project is a story. The way we express it and connect with it is a story. If something isn’t working, consider looking at the story, and see what might want to change there.
The second is the story you tell yourself. Every creator tells themselves a story. The way we relate to the work we put into the world is a story. If something isn’t working, consider looking at your story, and see if you’re being too hard on yourself, expecting results too early, or any number of other inner-dialog issues that could be holding you back.
When in doubt, look at the stories.
Is a $200,000 Birkin bag expensive?
After all, it only costs $800-1,400 to produce. It’s a $1k bag with a $199k story attached to it.
What’s the story? For its target market, it’s the feeling of being a better, more important, higher status individual than everybody else around them.
A Rolls-Royce Phantom sells the same story for $500,000. A whopping $301k more expensive story than the Birkin, yet designed to achieve the same feeling.
For the target market, the Birkin bag is a steal.
But facts about the bag don’t make it a steal.
Nor do “offer stacks” or “limited time offers”.
The story makes it a steal.
The desk is brown. The coffee is going cold. The notebook is open. The magazine is creased. The monitor is dusty.
If we held onto every piece of information, our minds would explode. Our brains are excellent at “thoughtfully forgetting” information, holding on to only that which is most obviously pertinent to our wellbeing.
Good stories are the exception.
We remember our spouse’s birthday because it has a story associated with it. It could be, “I love buying them a gift, I love the way they light up when they open it” because its part of our own story of “being a good spouse”. Alternatively, it could be “I must not forget to get them a card or they’ll rip me a new one” because its part of our own story of “preferring not to sleep on the couch”.
Two different stories. One outcome: remembering a date.
Facts may help people intellectually understand, but brains treat stories just like lived experiences. There is movement, tension, consequence, meaning, emotion, and self-preservation all at play when a story shows up.
That makes our brains deem them far more likely to be worth remembering.
We humans don’t think in facts. We feel in stories.
People edit their photographs because the story they tell themselves about their lives matters more than an accurate representation of what happened.
People universally hate movies where “the dog dies” because the feeling spoils the rest of the movie. They can’t get into the movie anymore, therefore it was bad.
People gladly pay $9.99 + free shipping, but almost never pay $5 + $5 shipping.
People can’t remember a series of random numbers they heard ten seconds ago, yet can recite the lyrics to their favorite childhood cartoon theme song that they’ve not heard in thirty years.
Discretionary effort counts double because, while functionally redundant, it makes people feel vastly more cared for.
Stories don’t just pass through the language centers of the brain. They activate emotional and sensory regions too. The brain treats stories more like lived experiences than abstract information.
We don’t feel facts.
We feel stories.
Perhaps part of our continued education should focus less on gathering more facts… and a little more on feeling stories.
People are messy and contradictory. They think they’re logical, while being emotional. They think they’re buying utility when actually buying status, or the other way around. Carefully evaluate whether a $6 book is worth the money while sipping a $6 coffee they didn’t think twice about.
This is news to brands. While they articulate features, stats, charts and frameworks, “but wait, there’s more”-ing themselves into marginalized obscurity, people don’t give them a second look.
Not because the brand didn’t have a good offer.
But because the brand didn’t have a good story.
When I started using the Internet, people didn’t come here for riches.
They didn’t “create content” to lure you into a “funnel” to pitch products at you.
They didn’t chat with you purely to evaluate whether or not you’re a Marketing Qualified Lead (MQL).
They didn’t contribute to things only because there’s an invoice at the end.
We used to create together for the joy of making a “web” worth visiting. We all made it better, together.
We used to chat together for the joy of sharing common interests, and mobilising around ideas because of it.
We used to contribute to projects we liked because thats how things got made. A bit of all our time, together.
I miss that Internet.
How we see ourselves changes how we see our work.
For instance. I think of myself as an artist.
So when I’m leading my team, I see it as an artist, leading a team. I show up differently because of it. I draw my ideas, treat conversations like a canvas everyone can make a mark on, and look for opportunities for art to lead in the work we make.
Or when I’m writing code, I write code as an artist, too. Even when I’m in Vim — a keyboard-only text editor with no mouse input — I use it on a Cintiq with a Wacom pen between my fingers — all artist tools specifically optimized for non-keyboard inputs. Partly because it’s a twenty-year habit of nearly always having a pen in my hand… and partly because it reminds me to think through code challenges visually on a canvas. I don’t need AI to show me how to solve a problem, I just need a white page to sketch on.
Or when I’m leading a Zoom call, I use Zoom as an artist — a screenshare of a blank white canvas comes up immediately, and what we discuss becomes a sketch of notes and thoughts connected with bubbles and lines. I don’t need a summarization tool to write transcriptions nobody will ever read, we have a sketch instead.
How you see yourself will affect your work, too. Worth think about.
A lot of folks are talking about ‘software brain’ again.
Data. Databases. Everything is data, in databases. Methodical, organized, controllable.. Who controls the database controls everything. Yada-yada.
But software brain is a choice. Organizing things that way is a choice. A popular choice, but a choice.
On the flip side, you could (for instance):
The list could go on and on.
The point is this: if we live in ways that wouldn’t suit a database, we don’t get software brain, and tech doesn’t consume our world, or our worldview.
That’s rare. A place where new, unexpected ideas show up. We need more of that: ChatGPT already covered the rest.
Between 2005 and 2019, the number of words we speak out loud to another human reportedly fell by nearly 28 percent.
The pandemic likely made it even worse.
More connected than ever.
Less connected than ever.
We think smartphones keep us connected.
What if they’re keeping us apart?
Your message isn’t what it says on your website.
Your message is what those who know you, tell the others.
Those are words you may not have chosen. You can’t wordsmith or A/B test that. You can’t un-say what you’ve said. You can’t pretend you’ve done what you haven’t.
And that’s part of why those words are so important.
Maybe we should focus less on the simple prose we can control, and more on words that spread.
Is it pointless, or the point?
Some see to street photography as a futile — and often unpredictable — record of banality.
Others see it as capturing life itself, an unfiltered record of existence, a mirror to an imperfect world.
Some see writing emails by hand as a waste of mental energy and time.
Others see it as staying sharp, showing up with care, preferring it over machines talking to other machines all day until we all run out of water.
It’s a good reminder that the point isn’t objective. It’s entirely, empirically subjective.
Changes how we look at so many decisions we make day to day.
I create a newsletter called GrowthCandy. Each issue shares one idea to help build and spread your work, delivered as a short comic. Fast to read. Easy to apply. Hard to forget!