A Velvety Whim
The Velvet Telegram began as all delightful things do in my world.
On a whim, out of the blue. ‘Twas an idea that slapped me with velvet gloves laced with glitter, leaving a shimmer that still hasn’t washed off while saying, “Yes, we’re doing this now.”
After seven years spent steeping in the realm of direct-response copywriting, something in me broke. I couldn’t stomach writing with persuasion anymore.
Manufacturing urgency and scarcity to lead the reader towards a buying decision hacked away at my spirit… as did pouring and rubbing salt into the wounds of people’s deepest fears, frustrations, and insecurities just so they’d listen to the pitch.
While this doesn’t have to be the case, selling is often performative.
Especially in the realm I once lived in.
My writing had to create “conversions.” My tone had to persuade. My words had to sharpen the reader’s longing while delivering them to a sugar-coated ‘buy now’ button that they had to happily click on and enter their credit card information.
For some, writing like so can feel empowering: like a puzzle to solve, a craft to master.
For me, persuasive writing is so fucking exhausting. I’m pulled away from my essence. My voice fragments. My voltage drains. My will to live spirals down the drain.
That’s Not Why I’m Here
I’m here to express, not explain.
I’m here to resonate, not persuade.
I refuse to treat reader like leads. I feel the distortion instantly.
The disrespect of viewing humans as potential conversions instead of complex beings with their own rhythms and readiness? Lemme yeet myself right outta there.
I’d rather whisper than shout.
I’d rather be chosen than chase.
Wouldn’t you?
Writing Myself Home
I’ve very, very, very rarely responded to direct-response marketing myself.
I buy things mostly based on need rather than want, and actively curb my exposure to advertising so I’m not tempted into wasteful consumption. I’d rather hunt for something I love, than settle for something that kinda-sorta gets the job done.
If there’s a problem I want to solve or a skill I want to learn, I build a list of people whose vibe I like and seem like they could be a good fit. Then I follow their ‘stuff’ until I’ve built a strong, deep understanding of their approach and ethos.
From there, the decision makes itself, and has always led to wonderful experiences.
So one late winter day when my honeysuckles were inexplicably beginning to bloom, I finally asked myself, “Why am I writing in a way I don’t even respond to?”
Then I stopped—and stayed stopped until I found a more aligned path. Great success!
After much stillness, silence, and internal excavation, I discovered a way of writing that tickles my spirit in the same way that drum’n’bass music does: with invitation, with warmth, with excitement, with mystery, with intrigue, with danger and teeth.
(More on this stylistic discovery in the The Altar or the Whip.)
In the stillness I also realized how much time had passed since I last wrote lengthy, meaningful, insightful ink-soaked paragraphs steeped in truth. Which I dearly missed.
That’s the origin of The Velvet Telegram.
Return of the Long-Form
Inside the direct marketing realm, long-form content is allegedly dead thanks to TikTok, Shorts, and lord knows what else having eroded our attention and focus.
But I believe in my heart of hearts that there will always be people like me, people like you, people who love the written word and want to read the kind of deep, insightful, sometimes inconvenient material that tickles your mind and drapes it in velvet.
Those are my people.
You’re my people.
You’re who The Velvet Telegram is for.
Here, I promise you spaciousness, and story. We’ll surf waves of nuance, explore caves rich with meaning, and discover unexpected clarity in the thick of the jungle. We’ll anchor deep insights in lived experience, teaching, guiding, leading.
What’s Inside a Velvet Telegram
Think of The Velvet Telegram like speakeasy for those who love story and myth.
Each telegram, a drink: deep, dangerous, meant for slow sipping.
Telegrams are the distilled essence of what I’ve lived and integrated, arriving only after the chaos has settled into clarity, after dissonance has been sung into harmony.
Telegrams are not a record of what happened, but what remains true after the fire.
So you can expect cocktails of insight and embodiment; signal flares from someone who has walked through the dark and came out coherent; barrel-aged reflections uncorked to serve others; and dispatches laced with slow truths and strong medicine.
A Telegram doesn’t offer advice, but alchemy.
One sip, and something begins to shift.
Not because I tell you what to do, but because you’ll discover what’s possible.
So if you like insight paired with incense, reading full of beauty, truths slow-cooked with love instead of air-fried with urgency, and inspiration stirred with a feather…
Hi, I’m Alexander. I saved you a seat.
Light a candle or three. Pour yourself a mug of something sweet, spicy, or strange.
Shake the dust from your magic carpet and prepare for a ride through smoke and silk.
Welcome to The Velvet Telegram.
With love from the fog,
~ Alexander, Creator of Emberbrook
This is awesome.