Copywriter, marketer, and storytelling strategist for mission-driven brands.
On a mission to burn down boring marketing—and build something real in its place.
I didn’t always plan to become a writer. I planned to be safe. Smart. “Successful.”
I Graduated from UNLV with a degree in Journalism during one of the worst recessions in recent history. I was watching the jobs dry up before I even had the cap off my head.
So I pivoted—like everyone said to do. Moved to Houston to study Speech Pathology. A total 180, but I loved kids, loved helping people, and figured this was something I could make work. It wasn’t. Not for me.
A year and a pile of tuition later, I realized I’d taken a detour away from myself. I didn’t want the career. I wanted clarity. Something I could feel
in my gut.
But before I could figure out what that was, life decided to clear the runway.
I got a job at an energy company. Sales ops. Cubicle. Beige everything. I told myself it was temporary—that I’d find my way into the marketing department.
I didn’t. Instead, I got diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
I was in a new city, no family nearby, and exhausted from telling the same story every time someone asked how I was doing.
So I did what I’ve always done when I need to make sense of something:
I wrote.
I started a blog.
That blog turned into a second one. Then a livestream. Then a grassroots little system I built from scratch to connect MS support groups online—because I figured if I could show up to a useless meeting at my corporate job, I could show up for myself too.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t just venting. I was building something.
Using story to connect, to educate, to move people.
And in that quiet, messy, DIY corner of the internet, I started remembering who I was.
I wasn’t fixed. But I was creating. The blogs were growing. The livestreams were helping people. And I felt ready—for something bigger.
So I booked a trip to Shanghai to visit one of my best friends. Two days in, I knew I didn’t want to leave.
Nine months later, I was there. I sublet my apartment, sold most of what I owned, packed a suitcase, and moved to China. I knew one word in Mandarin.
I taught English to adults, kids, toddlers. And in between the chaos of lesson plans and public transit, I wrote.
Not for a job. Not for a brand. Just for me.
That was the first time I imagined a life where writing wasn’t just part of who I was—it was
how I lived.
I packed and flew home to Vegas.
Three days later, the city I’d called home for two years went into lockdown. Flights stopped. Borders closed. I was grounded.
No apartment. No job. No plan. Just me, back in my parents’ guest room, asking:
What now?
I didn’t have the answer. But I had a gut feeling.
And then I found it—an online course from Alex Cattoni on how to write sales pages that actually sound like a person wrote them.
No sleaze. No pushy bro tactics. No faking your story to fit a funnel.
Just clarity, strategy, and empathy.
And something in me said:
And I started seeing the same patterns:
People were done with manipulative tactics and cookie-cutter messaging.
They didn’t just want to “convert." They wanted to connect.
They had values. Stories. Audiences.
They just didn’t know how to bridge the gap.
That’s where I come in.
I don’t just write pretty copy. I build messaging strategies rooted in what’s actually real about your brand: your values, your voice, your reason for doing this in the first place.
Clarity that connects.
Your story deserves more than templates and trend-chasing.
Are You Ready?
Ashley Bryant Copy