Tag: thankful

Substack Confucius

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been spending a lot of time on Substack lately. Reading Notes, engaging with other creators, trying to learn the platform and find my voice inside it. And I keep running into the same thing.

Substack Confucius.

You know the type. They post Notes that sound profound until you read them twice. “Conceal your strikes from your opponent and you will more easily strike his hide.” That’s not actually from Substack — that’s the Sphinx from Mystery Men, a character whose entire joke is that he speaks in pseudo-wisdom that sounds deep but means nothing. The joke works because we’ve all met that person. Apparently, a lot of them have Substack accounts.

But there’s a difference between a truth that’s been earned and a truth that costs nothing to say. A platitude and a hard-won insight can look identical on the surface. The difference is whether the person saying it has bled for it or just typed it.

Here’s my test: is this true on and off the message board? Can I take this sentence, walk into my office on Monday morning, and apply it to real work? Can I use it to grow my Substack, write a better blog post, have a harder conversation? If the answer is no — if it only works as a caption underneath a sunset — then it’s not wisdom. It’s decoration.

I’m writing this as a reminder to myself. Because the temptation is real. I’ve felt the pull — the urge to write a Note that gets restacked because it makes people feel something for three seconds instead of one that makes them think for three minutes.

I don’t want to be Substack Confucius. I want to say things that are honest, even when they’re not pretty. I want to write things that work on Monday morning, not just on a feed. And if that means fewer restacks and slower growth, I’ll take it. Because the audience I want isn’t looking for fortune cookies. They’re looking for someone who’s actually doing the work and willing to talk about what it’s really like.

The Laundry

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

In 1999, my bride and I were newlyweds living in an apartment complex with no washer and dryer. We’d carry our clothes over to the laundromat, sit together while things ran, and just talk.

One afternoon I folded something and she looked at me and said, “You didn’t fold that right.”

What do you mean I didn’t fold that right? It’s folded.

“No, there’s a right way to fold it.”

There is? This is how I was taught. This is the right way.

“That’s not the right way. My way is the right way.”

Okay. Why is your way the right way?

“Because it is.”

We’d met and married in about nine months. We were still figuring each other out. I was twenty years old and probably defensive about it, because what do you mean I’m wrong? I’m not wrong. I had one context for how folding worked and it was the only one I’d ever known. But she had a different context and it was the only one she’d ever known too.

Neither of us was wrong. We just hadn’t compared notes yet.

It took a few rounds. But eventually she explained why she liked it done her way, and I realized I didn’t care enough about folding to make it a hill to die on. So I started folding her way. Twenty-seven years later it’s muscle memory. I don’t even think about it anymore.

Here’s what I’ve learned since that laundromat.

We both wanted the same thing. We wanted the laundry folded. That was never the argument. The argument was about how. And the moment we both committed to the what — the thing that actually mattered — the how became something we could figure out together. We could give each other grace on the method because we agreed on the mission.

That’s true in a marriage. It’s true at work. It’s true in any room where two people are trying to get something done and they’re stuck arguing about technique instead of agreeing on the destination.

Get clear on the what. The how will work itself out.

Twenty-seven years of folding laundry. Still figuring out the how. Never once lost sight of the what.

Make Your Own Map

~ David Willis ~ 2 Comments

Day 75 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge

Nobody is going to hand you the plan.

I’ve only started realizing that this year. I knew if I wanted to be successful, I had to name my own goals — not adopt someone else’s and try to chase them with my own passion. That just doesn’t work. I don’t want somebody else’s dream. I want my dream. I don’t want somebody else’s body. I want my body to look the way it’s supposed to. I don’t want to write somebody else’s book. I want to write the books that are inside of me, about the things I’m interested in.

So I had to make the map.

Not a map someone gave me in a class. Not one I found in a self-help book. Not one my boss outlined for me. Mine. Built from scratch. Designed for the terrain I’m actually walking on.

I’ve been reading Todd Henry’s Die Empty this week, and his principles keep landing on things I’m already living. But the truth is, I didn’t need Henry to tell me these things. I needed him to name what I was already doing — so I could see it clearly and do it better.

I’m seventy-five days into a 280-day transformation experiment that I designed myself. Seven daily habits, forty-day cycles, daily blogging, a published novel, a Bible illustration project, and a philosophical manifesto in progress. Nobody assigned this to me. Nobody approved it. I just decided it was time to stop filling notebooks with “someday” and start building.

That’s what map-making looks like. Not waiting for instructions. Deciding what the terrain requires and drawing the route yourself.

Do your best work even when no one’s watching.

My blog gets ten to twelve views a day. Some days, one or two. I’m seventy-five posts in. Why do I keep writing for an audience that small?

Because I’m not writing it for them.

I’m writing it as my own content library — a record of where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and what I’ve been thinking. I know deep inside me that the questions I’m asking are good ones. The development I’m doing, whether publicly or privately, is still my own personal growth. It’s still interacting with my goals. It’s still getting things done.

And here’s the practical reason: if I don’t do my best now and have my rhythm down, and everybody shows up one day and I screw up — everything blows up. The time to get good is before the audience arrives, not after.

Say yes.

In the last seventy-five days, I said yes to publishing my book. I said yes to throwing myself out there and engaging online with people I don’t know. And from the limited feedback I’ve gotten, it’s all been positive.

What I’m discovering is that the real limitation was put on me by me. The limitations we live inside are self-inflicted most of the time. If we really wanted to get things done — put a plan together, build a system, and just said yes to doing it — we’d be so much further than we thought we’d be.

I’m finding that for myself, seventy-five days in.

But here’s the one that cuts deepest.

Take responsibility for your own progress.

Who was I waiting on for permission? Not my boss. Not a mentor. Not even a sign from God — although a finger is always welcome.

I was waiting on me.

Getting older has had an effect. The man I look at in the mirror these days is a whole lot grayer than he used to be. He’s having to work a whole lot harder to get back in shape. And I’m realizing that if I want to make a contribution to the world like I intend to, I have to do it right now. I cannot wait, in good conscience, for anybody else to give me permission to be the best version of myself.

I think it’s been a sin, in many ways, to limit myself from striving for excellence over the years. I’ve always tried to do my best. But I’ve let the fact that I didn’t know how to do something stop me from even wanting to learn how to do it.

I can’t do that anymore.

I was going through chemotherapy in 2005 for the first time. I would go back to work after my sessions, and I would sit in the office feeling like I’d been burned from the inside. Raw. Just as gross as you can feel. The guy I worked for was smoking cigars in there, and life was still moving at its regular pace. I just wasn’t.

And I remember sitting there thinking: I’m going to choose to take care of the things I’m responsible for, because I chose to. Not because someone’s making me. Because I decided that excellence was my standard, even when I felt like I was on fire inside.

That ability to choose excellence has served me for the rest of my life.

If you can choose it through chemotherapy, you can choose it at any other time.

You’re going to get well. You’re going to get better. And you’re going to come back with a map in your hand that you drew yourself — because nobody else was going to draw it for you.

That’s agency. That’s the yes that changes everything.

Day 75 of 280. Five days left in Round 2.

740Challenge #MakeYourOwnMap #DieEmpty #ToddHenry #Agency #Transformation #LivingProof #DayByDay #LifeOnPurpose

Gratitude Sunday: You Showed Up

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Day 69 of 280 | The 7-40 Challenge | Thank You Campaign

Last Monday night, I did something I’d been putting off for weeks. I hit publish on a Facebook post telling my friends and family that I’d written a novel. That it was on Amazon. And that I’d love for them to read it.

I’d built that moment up in my head more than I probably needed to. But I’m proud of Phase Defiant. I’m proud that I wrote a novel that started at over 100,000 words and 105 chapters, and after two full revisions landed at 60,000 words and 58 chapters — without losing a single plot point or anything that made the story worth telling.

I believe it is a good book. I just didn’t know if anyone else would care.

The first response I got was from one of my students from a youth group I led — twenty-five years ago. She told me she wanted to read it. The next was from a lady whose son had been in Cub Scouts with my boy.

And then it just kept going.

People from high school. People from church. People I’ve worked with. People I’ve met at random over the years. From every corner of my life, people were either congratulating me, telling me they wanted to read it, or letting me know they’d already bought it.

One friend I haven’t talked to in over ten years — a fellow author named Aubrey — reached out and asked whether I’d rather she buy the book or read it on Kindle Unlimited. She said she’d gladly leave a review. And then she invited me into a couple of author groups on Facebook. That kind of generosity from someone I hadn’t spoken to in a decade was something else. If you are reading this, thank you Aubrey. I appreciate you.

And then there was Rusty.

Rusty is a friend from high school. I remember him being a voracious reader — the kind of guy who collected Louis L’Amour books and had read every single one. He read Scarlett and Gone with the Wind and countless others. He always had a book in his hands.

He told me he got my book on a Thursday. He finished it on Friday. One day.

I was at the gym with my son when the text came in. He told me the book had great characters and good flow. And then he said he was going to give it to his kids and ask them to read it.

I don’t know how to describe what that feels like. To hear someone I remember as a reader — a real reader — say that my book was worth his time and worth passing to the next generation. As a YA novelist, that’s everything. That’s the whole point. Russ, I appreciate you.

Fifteen copies sold this week. I didn’t know what to expect, so fifteen feels amazing. That’s fifteen people who believed enough in me to spend their time and money on something I created. I don’t take that lightly.

Am I in this for the long game? Absolutely. I know how this works. I get to do my own marketing. I get to do my own promotion. And whether Phase Defiant reaches thousands of people or stays in the hands of the ones who already have it, I’m grateful either way.

Because before I knocked, I was afraid that nothing would change. And now that I’ve knocked and people showed up — the fear is gone. It’s not fear anymore. It’s fuel. The validation I needed — that this is a good book and worthy of people’s time — has already been given. Now I just want to get to work.

So if you bought this book — and I hope you’re reading this post right now — know that I appreciate you more than I have time to say.

I wrote this story because it had been inside of me for a while. I love superheroes. I loved growing up in the nineties. I love telling stories. And I love connecting with people. Phase Defiant gave me an opportunity to do all of that in one book.

If you enjoyed it, I would love your feedback in an Amazon review. That’s the single biggest thing you can do to help an indie author get discovered by people who don’t already know him.

But more than anything — thank you. Thank you for being on this journey with me. Thank you for showing up when I finally knocked.

I appreciate you.

📖 Phase Defiant by DMT Willis is available on Amazon: https://a.co/d/04IcWIKi

740Challenge #GratitudeSunday #ThankYouCampaign #PhaseDefiant #DMTWillis #IndieAuthor #BookTok #Gratitude #Community #LivingProof #DayByDay #YouShowedUp

Day 45: The Pain Is the Evidence

~ David Willis ~ Leave a comment

Round 2, Day 5
Thursday, February 19, 2026

I woke up this morning and my first thought was one word: OWWWW.

My legs are destroyed. My body is letting me know in no uncertain terms that yesterday happened. And you know what? Good. Because that soreness is a reminder that I did what I was supposed to do.

The Double Whammy

Here’s the context. I hadn’t lifted in three weeks because of a hand injury. And when I came back, I didn’t just pick up where I left off — I switched programs entirely. I went from an ABABAB workout rotation to an ABCABC split. Different exercises, different structure, different demands on my body.

It’s going to work much better long-term. I’m not overtaxing the same muscle groups. My workouts are more focused and don’t take quite as long. But the combination of three weeks off plus a brand-new program? That’s a double whammy. And my legs are paying the bill.

Sore, But Still Moving

Here’s what’s interesting. The soreness made me want to complain. But it didn’t make me want to skip anything.

I actually went on a walk this morning to recap a meeting via voice note, and it got me out of the office early enough to start working the soreness out. Movement is the best medicine for sore muscles. Not sitting still. Not waiting for it to pass. Getting up and moving through it.

There’s a lesson in that, and it goes way beyond the gym.

Soreness Is Not Just Physical

I was thinking the other day about moving back to Oklahoma last year. It was a good season — I got a new job, I was back in a familiar area, surrounded by people I knew. But learning the new role, adjusting to a new part of town, working on a new house — it was overwhelming. I was sore in every sense of the word.

But here’s the thing. Since I moved here in June of 2025, I’m down twenty-two pounds. I’ve written two books. I’ve started new social media channels. I’ve gotten a ton of work done on the house. I’ve launched the 7-40 Challenge and haven’t missed a day.

The season made me sore. But the season made me better.

That’s how growth works. It doesn’t announce itself with comfort. It announces itself with aches — with the evidence that something changed, that you pushed past where you were, that the old normal isn’t normal anymore.

What I’d Tell You on Day Three

If you’re early in a new habit — day three, day five, day ten — and you wake up hurting, whether that’s physical soreness or the mental exhaustion of doing something hard every single day, I want you to hear this:

Success is on the other side of the hard.

The pain is the evidence that you have challenged the norm. You’ve done the work. You’ve challenged the status quo of your own life. Your body, your mind, your circumstances — they’re all adjusting to the new version of you. And that adjustment hurts.

But it’s supposed to hurt. Soreness is not a warning to stop. It’s confirmation that you started.

So if you’re sore today — in your muscles, in your schedule, in your patience, in your faith — don’t quit. Move through it. Walk it out. Let the ache remind you that yesterday, you did something that mattered.

The pain is the evidence. Keep going.

Day 45 of 280. Sore means it’s working.