Marketing Mad Libs: the unhinged way to break through your brand’s mental fog

There’s a special kind of brain fog that only shows up for people who are deeply good at what they do, but suddenly can’t find the words for it.

The fog is real (and it’s not just you)

Maybe you’ve been churning out content like a pro for years. You know your audience. You know your offers. You’ve got strategy pouring out of your pores.

And yet… Every post feels like it’s wearing someone else’s perfume. Every sentence sounds like it was spat out by ChatGPT after three glasses of lukewarm Chardonnay.

You’re not blocked. You’re not lazy. You’re not out of ideas. You’re just stuck in the in-between: Where clarity used to be, and where “what on earth do I even say anymore?” has taken up residence.

Let me say this plainly: Your voice didn’t leave you, it’s just hiding. The longer you sit in the fog, the easier it is to forget what it used to sound like.

And so the content fades with you, syllable by syllable, sentence by sentence.

Templates don’t work. Rituals do

Swipe files. Frameworks. Swipe files wrapped in frameworks.

They all promise clarity. But what they deliver is the digital equivalent of beige wallpaper: technically functional, emotionally vacant. You’ve seen “hook – value – CTA” enough to want to tattoo it on your inner eyelids.

Here’s the truth: A formula won’t bring your voice back. A productivity hack won’t rescue your brand soul.

What you need isn’t more efficiency. You need a way to short-circuit the static and find your own rhythm again.

A ritual. A rebellion. A little chaos wrapped in creativity.

So I made something.
It’s weird.
It’s fast.
It works like a fever dream.

It’s called the Storytelling Mad Libs Workbook. And it’s about to become your favorite kind of contraband.

What exactly is a Marketing Mad Lib, and why might it be the most unexpectedly useful thing you try this month?

Remember those ridiculous and hilarious Mad Libs from childhood? The ones where your younger self filled the blanks with the silliest words you could think of: banana pants, mermaid lawyer, glitter explosion, butt…, and somehow the story still worked? You didn’t overthink it. You just played. And it was glorious.

Now imagine that, but make it marketing.
Now make it brilliant.
Now make it a tool for brand resurrection.
Now try this:

No one warned me that becoming a [blank] would turn me into a [blank] with opinions about [blank].

Each page in the Storytelling Mad Libs Workbook gives you a half-built narrative:

• A messy origin story.
• A dark-night-of-the-soul confession.
• A moment no one else is talking about.
• A twist your audience didn’t see coming.

You don’t have to start from zero. You just fill in the blanks, and remember how your voice used to feel when it was fully yours.

It’s like taking your brain to a spa, except the robe is a little unbuttoned and there’s a gin and tonic in the corner. The structure holds you just enough. The subversion brings your voice home.

And in case you still feel naked, every Mad Libs writing prompt has an example answer from me.

Who this is for (hint: not beginners)

Let’s get this straight: This is not for the person Googling “how to write a good Instagram caption”. This is not for the sweet summer child writing her first brand bio.

This is for the ones who already know the rules. Who’ve been through the funnels. The launches. The endless “Just batch 90 days of content in an hour!” promises.

This is for when your brand still looks polished, but the soul is gone.

This is for the:

• Quietly burned-out copywriters
• Battle-weary business owners
• Visionaries who are still secretly afraid their voice is boring

If you’ve ever started at a content plan and wanted to set it on fire just to feel something, welcome home. You’re not broken, you’re just bored. And your voice is clawing at the inside of your brand, begging to be let out again.

Grab it, print it, and use it before your inner editor wakes up

No email fluff. No tripwire. No five-day welcome sequence pretending not to sell you something.

Just a punchy, printable, slightly deranged workbook that helps you say something real again.

Download it.
Print it.
Scribble swear words in the margins.
Post something so raw, weird, or wildly off-brand that your audience screenshots it before you take it down.

Because your brand doesn’t need perfection. It needs a pulse.

Want more chaos like this?

This isn’t a one-time thing. I’m building more for the brave ones. The misfits. The high-achieving perfectionists who are done with beige content and are ready to sound like a sentient brand again.

So stay close.

Why this works (but only if you let it)

So go ahead. Break the fog. Steal the structure.

Write like your voice matters. Because it does.