Ashley’s Substack Podcast

You know that feeling where you're genuinely trying to be present and receive the goodness in your life… and your brain, bless it, immediately hands you a cortisol spike and a to-do list?

And the list goes something like this.

Rest after the emails. Joy once the laundry’s done. Peace when you finally become a slightly better version of yourself and drop o…

This is your Tuesday edition of Wannabe Wisdom Diaries. I publish every week.

In this conversation (my first solo Substack Live 🙌), I talked about why it can feel so hard to define your work when you’re not offering one neat, obvious service.

When you are the brand, and your work lives at the intersection of voice, story, transformation, creativity, and lived experience, the “what” can take a while to name.

That’s why I keep coming back to the why.

I shared some of my own path through communications, acting, writing, hypnotherapy, and Substack, and why I believe your “why” is often the real engine behind everything you build. The offers may evolve and the format may change, but the deeper mission usually stays the same.

We also talked about Simon Sinek’s idea of starting with why, from his TED Talk How Great Leaders Inspire Action, and the strange challenge of building a business around your voice, plus the very real experimentation phase most of us go through while figuring out what we actually offer.

This one is for anyone trying to go from blocked to expressed and turn that into something valuable for their audience.

Apologies for getting cut off at the end, thanks to my glitchy internet. Thank you for bearing with me. 😅

👉 P.S. I’ll be doing these live videos every few weeks, and I’ll share the theme ahead of time. Please leave suggestions for topics in the comments. 🙌

✨There will also be chances to hop on live with me, especially if the topic connects to your work or creative journey. It’s a lovely chance to share what you’re building, get visible, and connect with my audience in real time.

✨ Paid subscribers will get first priority, then I’ll open spots to everyone else.

Before you go, I’d love to know where you are in your own naming process. This will help me choose future live topics and create resources that actually meet you where you are.

Thank you Monica Fernandes, Emmett Tatter, Nicole Starker Campbell, Ahmedina, Brian D Smith and many others for tuning into my live video! Join me for my next live video in the app.

Hi loves,

Happy Saturday. ☺️✨

There’s a lot happening behind the scenes at Wannabe Wisdom. Some of you know I’ve started turning my written essays into spoken-word YouTube video videos on Wannabe Wisdom Diaries, and I’m also going to let those videos live here on Substack.

This story is about the time I cried so hard in a yoga class in Tulum that it briefly became an event. In this video, I explore grief, the body, yoga, and what happens when your nervous system decides it is done waiting for your mind to catch up.

I went to Tulum for yoga teacher training, but apparently I also went to publicly unravel under a straw roof at 6:30 in the morning. Sometimes grief waits for the perfect moment to spill over… like, say, a yoga class.

If you’ve ever looked fine on the outside while carrying something unresolved, this one’s for you. 💛

Prefer to read the essay version? You can find it here:

👉 Have a Story You Want Told?

Wannabe Wisdom is slowly opening up a space where subscribers can submit personal stories to be featured on my YouTube channel, Wannabe Wisdom Diaries, and here on my Substack, Wannabe Wisdom — retold by yours truly, in third person.

I’m looking for stories about identity, reinvention, intuition, heartbreak, grief, healing, and strange little turning points.

Basically: if something happened and afterward you were like, “Well. I guess I’m different now,” I want to hear about it.

If all goes well, we’ll plan a Substack Live around it too. Consider it your press tour. 🙌

✨ Paid subscribers are considered first because this space grows through the people helping sustain it.

Note: Submitting your story doesn’t guarantee it will be featured, and I’ll always contact you before moving forward.

👉 Submit your story here: Wannabe Wisdom Stories: Open Call

Thank you for being here.

For reading, watching, and making room for deeper, fuller expression, the unruly questions, and the parts we don’t always know how to say.

Life is precious and short and, somehow, long.

And what are we doing, really, if we’re awake but not alive?

With love & rebellion,Ashleyaka Fake Guru

Hi Loves,

I’m starting something new here: sending theta therapy sessions directly to your inbox.

This is the clean version: ad-free, downloadable, and easy to return to whenever you need it. You can watch or listen straight away.

This session is a short hypnotherapy practice for stress relief. I guide you through breathwork, progressive relaxation, and a gentle visualization to help you release tension and meet conflict from a place of steadiness and calm.

It’s especially supportive when your body feels braced, or when you need a grounded way back to yourself.

Unlike meditations that ask you to rise above what you’re feeling, this one stays with whatever stress you might actually be carrying.

A note: the visualization involves a beach, so it’s best listened to somewhere quiet and safe. This session supports wellbeing, but it isn’t a replacement for professional care.

✨If you’re a free subscriber, I also share public theta therapy sessions on YouTube here.

✨If you’re a paid subscriber, you get the cleanest experience here: ad-free sessions delivered directly to your inbox, plus access to the full archive, including past sessions and accompanying essays, here.

👉As a paid subscriber, you can explore all subscriber-only posts here.

If there’s a theme or situation you’d love a future session for, leave it in the comments. I’m building this in real time, and your requests help shape what comes next.

Also in the archive:

One of the things I care most about is helping people go deeper in their storytelling and create from a place that feels fully alive. That’s the heart of what I do here on Wannabe Wisdom.

But I also love sharing what I’m learning as I go, especially the practical, challenging, and very real parts of building a writing life online.

I’ve been on Substack for almost three years now. Time has flown, and the platform changes fast. That’s part of why I created Substack Shop Talk: a series where I share the behind-the-scenes of writing on Substack.

If you’re new to Substack, one of the most useful things to understand early is the difference between Notes and Posts.

This is a free, 20-minute, beginner-friendly tutorial on how Substack Notes work, how they differ from long-form posts or essays, and how to write for an online audience.

Because Notes are not essays. And a lot of people are accidentally writing them like they are.

In this video, I cover:

* the difference between Notes and Posts

* what Notes are actually for

* how to think about writing for online readers

* why readability matters

* how to make your writing feel human, not overworked

* how I personally use Notes to support deeper writing

* restacking Notes and Posts

If you’ve been circling Substack and trying to get your footing, this will help.

✨ If you liked this video, you’ll love my full tutorial workshop, Getting Started on Substack (Without Losing Your Mind). Paid subscribers get instant access included with their subscription.

Or 👉 purchase it as a one-off for $37.

Also, check out the article I mention in the video: The Art of the Substack Note in 2026.

Welcome to Wannabe Wisdom, Diaries of a Fake Guru. I’m Ashley Evans. Glad you’re here. 😊

Evolving loudly. With love + rebellion.— Ashley

The part of business we don’t talk about enough is the part happening inside us.

In this Live, Dennis Berry and I talked about emotional intelligence, but really we were talking about the inner skills underneath everything else: focus, distraction, dopamine, purpose, self-awareness, and the ability to pause before reacting.

This is the kind of real-life practice that shapes how you lead, how you relate, how you make decisions, and how you keep going when things feel slow, uncertain, or uncomfortable.

What stayed with me most is how much business asks of us emotionally. Not just strategy or discipline, but the ability to notice your patterns and work with your thoughts.

We enjoyed this conversation so much that we decided to do another one in April. This time, we’re going deeper into the practical side of building on Substack: how to think about it when you’re just starting out, the etiquette, the relationships, monetization, and how Dennis helps clients set business goals and move toward them one step at a time.

So this first conversation is really about the foundation: the inner skills that shape everything else.

That’s the part of business we don’t talk about nearly enough, IMO. 😎

Hope you enjoy this chat.

With love & rebellion,Ashley

Thank you Jeff Long, Oddwood, Caner Şen, Ahmedina, Destiny Verdugo Rios, and many others for tuning into my live video with Dennis Berry! Join me for my next live video in the app.

In this live conversation, Kristi Keller 🇨🇦 (HomeBody(ish) Magazine and Unstack Substack) and I untangle the myth that you’re supposed to have one clean, consistent “voice” online. Especially on Substack, where your business self, your grieving self, your funny self, and your slightly inappropriate self all end up sharing the same feed.

We talk about what happens when audiences overlap: when clients can see your Notes, when readers follow you across publications, when the people you know in real life might be quietly watching.

How do you balance that? How much do you share? And who exactly are you supposed to be?

We also get into:

* changing niches without warning

* losing subscribers and surviving it

* humour as a survival tool

* the strange pressure to be “authentic” in a performative internet age

If you’ve ever wondered whether you’re too many people to fit into one newsletter or worried about who’s watching when you hit publish, this conversation is basically permission to be human!

Thank you Nicholas “DJ Dreamy”Sargent, Steve Harper, Ilias Shepherd Marrow, Mariella Candela Amitai, The Secret Ingredient, and many others for tuning into my live video with Kristi Keller 🇨🇦! Join me for my next live video in the app.

The first thing I ever published was about a dead mouse floating in a toilet.

I remember staring at it longer than I should have. Not because I was deciding what to do. But because something inside me had already decided.

I was going to write about it.

And that realization filled me with a strange shame.

Because it revealed something deeply suspicious about my character. Something opportunistic. Slightly predatory. Like I was less interested in living my life than in harvesting it.

It was 2007. I was back in my family’s cabin in the Yukon, trying to use the bathroom without waking anyone. The bathroom had no walls, only wooden shutters that slid into place like you were assembling privacy in real time. I closed them carefully, turned around, and there it was.

Floating… Waiting.

And instead of solving the problem like a normal adult, I stood there wondering:

Is this… what I write about?

It was the most interesting thing that had happened to me all week.

And that terrified me.

Because it meant I had nothing else.

No stories. No proof my life was moving forward. Just me, and a dead mouse... and the sinking feeling that if I didn’t start writing, I might disappear entirely.

I had started a WordPress blog with the extremely subtle and not-at-all embarrassing title Firecracker Set Free, which perfectly captured who I believed myself to be creatively: explosive, despite feeling completely inert.

The mouse floated there, silent, indifferent.

And I realized I finally had something to say.

Even if it was about this. (Maybe especially because it was about this?)

I didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of everything.

So I wrote my first post about the mice we lived with in that cabin, and the deeply squeamish experience of having to poop with a dead mouse staring up at you.

But even as I hit publish, my inner cat critic pounced.

Don’t say poop online. Ever!!!

You know this doesn’t matter, right? To aaaanyone.

There are real problems in the world.

Another Dead Thing I Didn’t Save

I’d like to tell you that this launched me into a bestselling WordPress blog, but no. I had no audience and absolutely no confidence. And after about two posts, and one minor breakdown trying to understand the backend of WordPress, I quit.

However, on my way back to Vancouver, I had a wildly audacious idea.

What if I pitched a column to the biggest newspaper I could think of?

I found the editor’s email. I bought a book on writing query letters. Took myself very seriously. And sent a pitch to the Yukon News.

“What if I write a column, All the World’s a Stage, about a small-town girl chasing acting dreams in the big city?”

At the time, I was relentlessly pursuing acting and had just been accepted into a cutthroat acting class I’d start when I returned to the city. I hit send. Refreshed my inbox. Heart pounding.

His reply:

“I love it. Let’s try a bi-monthly column. Can we start in two weeks?”

I was floored. (I literally fell out of my chair onto the floor.)

No blog… but a real, paid column. OMG.

I wrote for nearly a year. I sent every piece to my dad, who helped me refine them. Secretly, I hoped that somewhere along the way I’d get my big acting break. Spoiler alert: stardom was not in the stars.

But turning awkward moments from acting class into stories? That worked. Because, as I learned, everything is copy.

Everything Is Copy

My eternal thanks to Nora Ephron (famously known for writing “When Harry Met Sally” and more…) for that wisdom. You can watch her incredible life story below, for free.

Nora’s mother was a screenwriter, and she used to say “Everything is copy” over and over to Nora and her sisters. Nora once said she’d come home with what she thought was the worst tragedy of her life, deep in self-doubt, and her mother would plainly say, “Everything is copy.”

What she meant, Nora later realized, was this: when you slip on a banana peel, people laugh at you. But when you tell people you slipped on a banana peel, it’s your laugh.

Everything is copy. Even the dead mouse.

But knowing that and living that are two different things. It’s one thing to believe your life is material. It’s another thing to be responsible for producing it on demand.

When Writing Stopped Being Optional

I wrote the column for a northern audience: people who knew exactly the kind of awkward, small-town, existential absurdity I was living through.

My favourite column was about having to do a strip scene in acting class for a character I was playing. It felt eerily similar to the time I came face-to-face with a bear while jogging off the Alaska Highway.

We both froze. Just stared at each other.

My body completely took over. I couldn’t move. I swear the bear was deciding whether I’d be tasty or just annoying to eat. Eventually, it broke eye contact and bolted into the forest.

That same freeze response showed up in acting class: that feeling of helplessness, exposure, and humiliation.

That column ran for about a year before it fizzled out.

What I remember most, though, is how blocked I felt during that period… and how the discipline of a regular column forced me to find a way in.

Being blocked has always been part of my writing process. I’ve come to understand why. I’m deeply sensitive. Highly sensing. Which means before words arrive, there’s usually a storm to move through first.

That sensitivity is a gift. But it also means there’s a lot of internal noise to clear before anything coherent reaches the page.

That’s why I created Wannabe Wisdom, Diaries of a Fake Guru.

If you’d like to go a little deeper, paid membership includes prompts, courses, and audio practices designed to support your creative process. It also helps sustain my work. Free subscribers receive weekly essays.

Today, I write for the sensitive. The stuck. The scribblers and the seekers. I hope to help empathetic souls move from vague, swirling thoughts to published words. From self-doubt to hitting send. From knowing they have something to say to actually saying it.

Through essays like this one, I want to remind you: this is hard for all of us.

Last week, I wrote about dancing in my underwear for 400 strangers. I even turned it into a spoken monologue on YouTube. 👇

Writing on Substack isn’t so different from that first blog, or that newspaper column. It’s about showing up, blocks and all.

And here’s the thing. For many people, the block isn’t creativity. It’s tech.

If the platform, the setup, or the “am I doing this right?” questions are what keep stopping you, I’ve built a course to clear that hurdle so you can focus on the real, thrilling work: your true voice on the page.

Here’s my secret: start small. And remove the friction that keeps stopping you.

👉 If tech has been the thing holding you back, you can learn more about my course here.

🎯 Getting Started on Substack (Without Losing Your Mind)👉 $37 on Gumroad✨ Or included with a paid subscription

Your stories are waiting for you.

PS. If the idea of finding your voice online feels especially complicated, this Friday, February 13th at 2pm PST I’m going Live with Kristi Keller 🇨🇦, the incredibly smart and FUNNY Substack writer of HomeBody(ish) Magazine and Unstack Substack. We’re talking about “The Myth of Having Just One Voice When You Write.”

Thanks for being here.

With love & rebellion,

Ashley

aka Fake Guru

Hi, friend.

I’ve spent the last couple weeks putting together my first digital product, and I’m excited to finally share it with you: Getting Started on Substack (Without Losing Your Mind).

It’s a one-hour guided video walkthrough, plus a written companion you can come back to anytime.

I made this for Substack newbies who are ready to share their voice but would like a little guidance getting started. And if you’ve already been writing here for a while, it’s for you too. It distills what I’ve learned over two and a half years and 60+ essays (mostly by figuring things out the hard way).

The goal is simple: make Substack feel lighter, so your voice can bloom.

✨ The workshop is free for paid subscribers, or $37 USD on its own.

[Purchase it here], or upgrade to become a paid subscriber and get instant access for less than it costs to doubt yourself for another month. 😊

Thank you for being here. Truly.

Getting Started on Substack (Without Losing Your Mind)

Hi! I’m Ashley Evans. I write Wannabe Wisdom, Diaries of a Fake Guru. Welcome.

I’m really glad you’re here, especially if you’re a deep-feeling creative who’s been circling the idea of writing online and finally decided to step in and start, but need a little help getting a lay of the land!

I help people move through creative blocks like overwhelm, imposter syndrome, and paralysis so they can come into fuller expression without forcing it. Starting anything new (especially new technology) can feel daunting. But I’m here to walk you through step-by-step.

I started writing on Substack two and a half years ago with zero subscribers and a single goal: to build a consistent writing practice. My practice started on a monthly schedule, and eventually became every two weeks, and then weekly.

Sixty essays later, and after a couple of unexpectedly viral Notes, the audience has grown to about 2.5k readers. But it didn’t happen quickly. I wrote into the silence for a long time, working through procrastination, self-doubt, and all the familiar resistance that shows up the moment you decide to take yourself seriously.

If you’re curious, you can read my full origin story:

My hope with this guide is simple: to help you get oriented on Substack without overwhelm, so you can get to the fun part! Writing, publishing, and connecting with other humans who care about similar things.

Think of this as setting up your writing space… and then learning how to hang out there.

Do this at your own pace and return to it as many times as you need. Remember, if you hit any trouble spots, feel free to DM me.

✨ P.S. The transcript companion for this video is below.

So, cozy up with a cup of tea or your favourite beverage!

Let’s begin!

Writing and publishing form a kind of tightrope. You listen to your gut about what’s ready to share, but you also try not to freeze in the paralysis of perfectionism.

On Friday night, I went to the touring Michael Jackson Broadway show with a friend who had loved MJ as fiercley as I had when we were kids. Sitting in the dark, tapping my foot to “Billie Jean,” I suddenly remembered a “talk show” I once hosted for my grade-six class.

Talk shows shaped a lot of ’90s television, and the likes of Ricki Lake, Jerry Springer, and Oprah Winfrey shaped me, too. I wanted to be Oprah, so I cast myself as her. My skinny, black haired and blue-eyed friend Jordan, played Michael Jackson. In front of our peers, I “interviewed” him so aggressively about the sexual-abuse allegations that he cried. Real tears. I tried to console him, startled by how blurry the line between art and real life could get.

Cut back to 2025. I’m in this theatre again, sitting beside my adult friend, singing along to every song. Well, every song except the five minutes when I fell asleep. Not because the show was dull, but because I wake up at five every morning, and my internal clock doesn’t care about Broadway or expensive tickets.

Free subscribers get weekly essays & creative confidence boosts. Paid members unlock step-by-step guides, prompts, $400+ in theta audios to turn self-doubt into fearless expression—plus exclusive pricing on products. Ready to move from reflection to transformation? Join us.

The production gave me everything I wanted: crotch-grabbing, explosive dancing, moonwalking. Still, it carried that familiar jukebox-musical gloss. I always wish musicals were a little grittier, and that preference alone keeps me from being a true musical-theatre nerd. The Book of Mormon is closer to the musical I imagine: satire, political commentary, and plenty of dirty jokes.

The actor playing MJ was uncanny. The hair, the slender frame, the elegant hands captured that strange mix in Michael: fragility paired with an almost unbreakable force. The story hit all the familiar beats: his Jackson 5 years, Joe Jackson’s severity, the rise to superstardom, and the carefully trimmed edges around the allegations.

Onstage, a documentary filmmaker trailed MJ, trying to understand how he worked. She asked him, “How do you know when a song, or a show, is ready to tour?”

“I feel it in my body,” he said, his voice soft and lightly feminine.

He went on. He can sense when the work is drifting, when it’s turning sentimental or repetitive. He can feel when it needs to be torn down and rebuilt. Another artist might let those moments slide, say “good enough,” and keep going. But he can feel when the work has slipped out of truth.

MJ was naming something I needed to hear: your gut is the truest collaborator you have. If a line or an idea feels off, listen to it.

“Your gut is the truest collaborator you have. If a line or idea feels off, listen to it.”

My own gut told me not to publish the essay I’d planned for this week. As I scrolled through it, I kept thinking, this is all s**t. I’m forcing ideas together. I’m trying too hard, and it’s not working. It doesn’t feel right. I cut the piece from 4,300 words to 2,000, then down to 300.

I almost decided not to publish anything at all. But then I reminded myself that done is better than perfect.

“Done is better than Perfect.”

Based on last week’s poll, the biggest creative villain in your life is paralysis—41 percent of you named it. Perfectionism followed at 29 percent. So maybe you need the same reminder I do: done is better than perfect. It’s one thing to listen to your gut when something feels off, and another to freeze and abandon your practice entirely.

Revisions: On Cutting, Clarifying, and Trusting the Work

I was there on Sunday night. I asked my husband if I could read him my essay while my eyes were already drooping. “Sure, babe,” he said, and then started snoring before I reached the subtitle.

As he slept, I cut and cut. Fatigue makes me intolerant of b******t. I had 4,300 words when I went to bed and 300 when I woke up. My husband rolled over and cuddled me. “I don’t know if I’m going to send an essay out today,” I said. “That’s okay, babe,” he answered.

So I began the reconstructive surgery. I told myself: it’s okay if you don’t publish. Then, simplify everything. What’s the one thing you’re trying to say?

“Simplify Everything and ask yourself: what’s the one thing you’re trying to say.”

For me it was the Michael Jackson story. I cut whole tangents: Rosalía, the misattributed “real artists steal” Picasso quote, Paul Thomas Anderson, even a couple of Substackers I’m obsessed with right now.

And here we are. I did it.

Question for the comments: Was there a moment in this essay that made you recognize your own version of creative paralysis or perfectionism? I’d love to hear what came up for you.

Also,btw...

Many of you told me you’re wrestling with the same mix of paralysis, perfectionism, and “WTF am I even doing on Substack?” energy I used to wrestle with too.

So I’m building something for us: a mini-course called Building a Creative Home on Substack. It’s a practical, soulful guide to finding your footing here, showing up with consistency, and keeping your sanity in the process.

I’ll share the details soon. If it sounds like something you’d love, tell me in the comments or just reply “yes.”

It helps me shape what the course becomes.

💛 Your support is what makes this newsletter possible, and keeps the one-woman creative team behind it (hi 👋) caffeinated, inspired, and writing. If you’d like to support this work more directly, becoming a paid subscriber is the simplest way. Either way, thank you for being here.

About me: I’m Ashley Evans, a writer, actor, dancer, and former communications shapeshifter who spent 16 years crafting stories and managing delightful chaos for an animation studio behind Rick & Morty, TMNT, and Teen Titans Go! Now I help blocked creatives find their voice through Wannabe Wisdom, where more than 2,400 deep-feeling humans read my honest pep talks. I’ve died in many award-winning horror shorts, teach hot pilates and barre, and live with my husband and our silver lab, Thor, who is much wiser than I am. You can also follow me on Instagram.