How does one begin a story as intricate, deep, and complex as a whole life and philosophy? How can you possibly distil a person’s values and beliefs into a few paragraphs? Is such a thing even possible?

The answer is: Yes.

But it’s not easy.

In fact, I’d go so far as to say it can be bloody difficult.

There’s a time and place for copy, of course. Most businesses— large or small— need SEO targets, keywords, or the latest AI-friendly phrasing. I get that. But that’s not what I do. That’s not what Stories Are The Thing is for.

Here, we craft narratives. Real ones. We find the thread that makes people care. Because when someone can easily get invested, they’re far more likely to easily invest. It might be money, sure— but it could just as easily be time, trust, or belief. Sales conversions are measurable; human connection isn’t. But it’s the latter that makes the former possible.

I’ve been a storyteller for as long as I can remember. Genuinely.
I was lucky enough to grow up surrounded by stories— regular trips to the local library, bedtime tales both read and imagined, and the quiet encouragement to start creating my own.

One of my earliest concrete memories is going to my grandma’s after school. Friday afternoons meant a walk to her house, homemade Yorkshire Puddings, and an attic with a modest desk. On that modest desk sat a teal plastic typewriter. I couldn’t type for the life of me, but I was allowed to sit there, tapping away, writing stories with my grandma— my first real editor, and one of the core people who made me understand the sheer power of language.

Nearly a quarter of a century later, my compulsion to share stories hasn’t waned in the slightest.

Creative writing is the thing I believe I was put on this earth to do. I love conjuring worlds, populating them with characters and moments that can transport strangers using nothing more than the written word. There’s a real alchemy in that— the act of turning imagination into emotion.

And while my fiction often deals with sci-fi futures or fantastical pasts, there’s always something deeply human at their core. Without that element, there’s no connection. Sure, I could write about a civilisation of robots in the far future— but without a human heartbeat underneath it, I may as well be listing spare parts.

That same instinct— the need to find the human thread, the bit that makes someone feel— is what I bring to businesses, councils, attractions, and individuals. Every project has its cast of characters, its conflict, its heartbeat. My job is to find it and write it true. Whether you’re a local museum or a multinational brand, the truth is the same: people don’t buy what you do; they buy what you make them believe.

Stories are how we bridge gaps. They’re how we teach, persuade, and share ideas. Behind every great advancement of the human race— every leap, every invention, every moment of understanding— there’s a story. Sometimes those stories offer themselves willingly. Other times, they hide. You have to coax them out, dust them off, or dig deep until they breathe again.

But they’re always there. Always.

That’s why I started Stories Are The Thing.

After years of watching good ideas get buried under jargon, or beautiful missions get lost in a sea of “engagement strategies” and buzzwords, I realised what was missing wasn’t talent, or ambition— it was narrative. The why. The heartbeat.

I started this because I was tired of seeing people, businesses, and communities undersell themselves. Tired of seeing great work reduced to bullet points, or genuine passion rewritten to sound “on brand.”
Stories Are The Thing exists to put the soul back into storytelling— whether that’s for a person, a place, or a purpose.

What I want to achieve is simple: to help people sound like themselves, only clearer, sharper, and with a touch of magic. To make someone stop scrolling, stop skimming, and actually feel something.

If I can help a business reconnect with its reason for existing, or help a town rediscover the pride it once had, or even help one person fall back in love with what they do— then that’s worth far more than any SEO metric.

Because at the end of the day, stories are how we remember who we are. They’re how we remember what came before. They’re how we envision what could come next.
And I suppose, in a roundabout way, that’s what I’m trying to do— remind people.

And if we work together and I can’t find your story?
I’ll give you your money back. No questions asked.

Because if there’s no story, there’s nothing to sell.