The Authentic Stories of Bex Boom

Some of you are probably wondering why it is that you should hire me to tell your story.  And that's a fair question.  There is a seemingly bottomless well of self-proclaimed "business consultants" and "content marketers" out here in the digital cesspool trying to assert their own expertise in various speciality areas. But, if you've investigated far enough into my public speaking gigs, you've probably found some soundbyte where I declare that I am an expert on nothing, or bad pun followed by an admission that I refuse to take myself seriously.  This is authentic storytelling, after all.  And it simply doesn't work if you don't believe the voice behind the page.  So here's a collection of some authentic stories from my business-focused blog. 

This is my real, unedited voice: sassy and irreverent, self-reflective, and sometimes profane.  Hopefully, at points, both funny and poignant.  This is the real Bex Boom with no agenda at all, except to get the stories out.  If you feel compelled to keep reading mine, I hope you'll consider letting me help you tell yours.

The Boogeyman is Everywhere

What do we do when the “why” behind a tragedy is more complex than is societally comfortable?

Remember the good ol’ days of serial killers? You know, dismemberers and cannibals and killer clowns? The stuff of engrossing doco-series and cold-sweat-inducing nightmares, sure, but the model was so elegantly straightforward.

The Real Hustle

Entrepreneurship is not what I expected…

6am — Fuck. Right. Ok. I’m awake.

This is quite a civilised time for my brain to turn on. Usually it’s more like 3:30 or 4.

Excruciating Lessons in RESILIENCE and Humility

Two weeks ago, I tore my ACL. I wasn’t doing anything foolish or dangerous. I was going for a gentle Sunday morning run near my house, as I often do. About 2km from home, on a familiar bit of road, I lost my footing on some loose gravel (in my brand new $300 training shoes…), tried to regain my balance, locked my left knee fully back and fell backward onto a curb, cracking my right collarbone.