So you wanna know more about me, huh?
Well, I’m lots of things to lots of people. To you, I’m your secret weapon to business success.
I live the solopreneur life I help others create.
One that is enjoyable, sustainable, profitable … and mine and mine alone.
I’d be here all day if I had to tell you everything, and that’s what my emails are for.
They’re “jam-packed full of fun, oodles of personality and most importantly model exactly the kind of work she’s capable of taking you through”.
Through your inbox I’ll share juicy stories; teach sales through example (by continually trying to flog you stuff); and talk about, quite frankly, anything I jolly well fancy.
Don’t worry – you’ll be well amused.
Get on my email list if you want them.
And you’re already on my list, all that’s left to do is to read them.
But right now, here’s some big-picture stuff about Yours Truly (and I’ll fill in the gaps with my epic inbox antics).
how you doin’?
I’m Lisa York
Foodie. Organiser. Laughter seeker. Adventurer. Entrepreneur. Scapegoat for teenagers. Cuddle machine. Spontaneous singer. Globetrotter. Tea drinker. Solo-business pundit. Optimist. Lindor chocolate sucker. Extrovert. Systems creator. Nature walker. City explorer. People lover. ‘No’ advocate. ‘Yes’ advocate. Energy bunny. Oh, and I’ll help you make more wonga in your one-woman-business.
My hubby, the Aussie and
My Ship Mate
I said SHIP. With a ‘P’. Me and The Captain are shoulder-to-shoulder on this thrilling life adventure. We chase change, take the plunge and live large. After giving the Aussie Navy 33 years, he’s on sabbatical so now gets to load the dishwasher and go to the assemblies before they all grow up. Which gives me a turn at being the rainmaker and pursue my biz. This new normal makes us both smile. Very much.
and then there’s
Our Four Sproglets
When we shook hands to have four kids, I didn’t know the rollercoaster I’d signed up for. Probably just as well. I was knocking on, so became a baby factory and spat ’em all out in four and a bit years. I’ve been a headless chicken ever since. Why didn’t anyone tell me they have their own personalities and aren’t afraid to show them? Glorious and infuriating as parenting is, life is bigger and better because of them.
how you doin’?
I’m Lisa York
Foodie. Organiser. Laughter seeker. Adventurer. Entrepreneur. Scapegoat for teenagers. Diplomatic spouse. Cuddle machine. Spontaneous singer. Globetrotter. Tea sipper. Micro-business pundit. Optimist. Military wife. Extrovert. Systems creator. Nature walker. City explorer. People lover. ‘No’ advocate. ‘Yes’ advocate. Chocolate scoffer. Energy bunny. Oh, and I’ll help you make more wonga in your micro-business.
My hubby, the Aussie and
My Ship Mate
I said SHIP. With a ‘P’. Me and The Captain are shoulder-to-shoulder on this thrilling life adventure. We chase change, take the plunge and live large. After giving the Aussie Navy 33 years, he’s on sabbatical so now gets to load the dishwasher and go to the assemblies before they all grow up. Which gives me a turn at being the rainmaker and pursue my biz. This new normal makes us both smile. Very much.
and then there’s
Our Four Sproglets
When we shook hands to have four kids, I didn’t know the rollercoaster I’d signed up for. Probably just as well. I was knocking on, so became a baby factory and spat ’em all out in four and a bit years. I’ve been a headless chicken ever since. Why didn’t anyone tell me they have their own personalities and aren’t afraid to show them? Glorious and infuriating as parenting is, life is bigger and better because of them.
Delve deeper into my world ….
This is where I share my secrets
As Featured in Business Insider
Tear-jerker from my last biz
I run a social media-free biz
the dawn of a love story
Dorset, UK
The story begins in Weymouth. Too large for a sleepy fishing town, a 19-year-old girl heaved on an enormous backpack and headed for warmer climes. My eyes lit up when Bern walked into my bar on a balmy Christmas night in Perth, Australia. After a travelling love affair, my visa ran out. Turns out we had to patiently wait for 13 years for someone to discover the internet before we were finally reunited.
the baby factory years
Sydney, Oz
After the pains of dating long distance, we drew straws … Sydney or Weymouth? Sydney won, which meant so did I. I sold my business, house, and belongings and emigrated. We’d both lived a little in the 13-year gap so didn’t waste much time putting a ring on it. Our three boys were born … bam, bam, bam. Six months later, Bern got reposted so we packed the porta-cot and headed back to the Northern Hemisphere.
the mushed brain year
Bristol, UK
After a gruelling international move with toddlers; stalking the play parks for new mum friends; and getting up the duff with our fourth child, it was time to move again. We’d only been in Bristol for a year, but we don’t like letting the grass grow so jumped at the opportunity to move to London. Although we loved Bristol, London turned out to be the best place we’ve ever lived. And the most harrowing.
the leukaemia years
Kingston, UK
A year after moving to Kingston-upon-Thames, I heard the words no parent ever wants to hear. “Your son has leukeamia“. It was a period of anguish, tears, and trauma and the hospital became our second home. It was also a period of growth, hope, and the power of ordinary people. The Kingston folk are the most kind-hearted, generous, and honourable people I’ve ever met. It was them that got us through. Listen to my story.
the god-damn awful years
Canberra, Oz
Canberra started badly and never improved. Our leukaemia boy was too sick to travel so I did the international move with the three kids alone. Bern’s work was stressful and kept us apart. I didn’t make deep friendships so there was little support for Benny’s treatment. I was at breaking point so I started my podcast to stay sane. We spent most of the three years devising an exit plan but emerged united.
the out-of-the-fog years
Sydney (again)
Back in our beloved Sydney and life felt good again. For three months I packed the kids off to school, drank tea and cried rivers to purge the distress of the previous years. But Benny was well again. We were surrounded by family and friends, and spent our weekends at the beach. It was a big dilemma whether to pull the pin on our now perfect life in favour of the next dramatic move. But we did.
the diplomatic years
Cambodia
The wackiest chapter of all. Three years as the Defence Attache’s diplomatic spouse at the Australian Embassy in Phnom Penh. A troubling contrast of seeing 5-people families balanced on a moto, dead pigs on Tuk Tuks, the smell, and the squaller. Then there were the glamorous dinners with powerful players, international school life, basking in tropical pools and being a lady who lunched. An eye-opening life experience!
the stay put years
Lancaster, UK
After bouncing around the world, we’re gonna stay put for a while, at least for the high school years. I missed the green, green grass of home, British humour, and, would you believe, the weather. We still have wild family adventures, like our 8-country, 24-city, 5,000-mile road trip in the summer holidays (which I’m still getting over 🤪). And now The Captain’s on sabbatical, he looks after the kids while I indulge in my UK work jaunts.
the dawn of a love story
Dorset, UK
The story begins in Weymouth. Too large for a sleepy fishing town, a 19-year-old girl heaved on an enormous backpack and headed for warmer climes. My eyes lit up when Bern walked into my bar on a balmy Christmas night in Perth, Australia. After a travelling love affair, my visa ran out. Turns out we had to patiently wait for 13 years for someone to discover the internet before we were finally reunited.
the baby factory years
Sydney, Oz
After the pains of dating long distance, we drew straws … Sydney or Weymouth? Sydney won, which meant so did I. I sold my business, house, and belongings and emigrated. We’d both lived a little in the 13-year gap so didn’t waste much time putting a ring on it. Our three boys were born … bam, bam, bam. Six months later, Bern got reposted so we packed the porta-cot and headed back to the Northern Hemisphere.
the mushed brain year
Bristol, UK
After a gruelling international move with toddlers; stalking the play parks for new mum friends; and getting up the duff with our fourth child, it was time to move again. We’d only been in Bristol for a year, but we don’t like letting the grass grow so jumped at the opportunity to move to London. Although we loved Bristol, London turned out to be the best place we’ve ever lived. And the most harrowing.
the leukaemia years
Kingston, UK
A year after moving to Kingston-upon-Thames, I heard the words no parent ever wants to hear. Your son has leukeamia. It was a period of anguish, tears, and trauma and the hospital became our second home. It was also a period of growth, hope, and the power of ordinary people. The Kingston folk are the most kind-hearted, generous, and honourable people I’ve ever met. It was them that got us through.
the god-damn awful years
Canberra, Oz
Canberra started badly and never improved. Our leukaemia boy was too sick to travel so I did the international move with the three kids alone. Bern’s work was stressful and kept us apart. I didn’t make deep friendships so there was little support for Benny’s treatment. I was at breaking point so I started my podcast to stay sane. We spent most of the three years devising an exit plan but emerged united.
the out-of-the-fog years
Sydney (again)
Back in our beloved Sydney and life felt good again. For three months I packed the kids off to school, drank tea and cried rivers to purge the distress of the previous years. But Benny was well again. We were surrounded by family and friends, and spent our weekends at the beach. It was a big dilemma whether to pull the pin on our now perfect life in favour of the next dramatic move. But we did.
the diplomatic years
Cambodia
The wackiest chapter of all. Three years as the Defence Attache’s diplomatic spouse at the Australian Embassy in Phnom Penh. A troubling contrast of seeing 5-people families balanced on a moto, dead pigs on Tuk Tuks, the smell, and the squaller. Then there were the glamorous dinners with powerful players, international school life, basking in tropical pools, and being a lady who lunched. An eye-opening life experience!
the stay put years
Lancaster, UK
After bouncing around the world, we’re gonna stay put for a while, at least for the high school years. I missed the green, green grass of home, British humour, and, would you believe, the weather. We still have wild family adventures, like our 8-country, 24-city, 5,000-mile road trip in the summer holidays (which I’m still getting over 🤪). And now The Captain’s on sabbatical, he looks after the kids while I indulge in my UK work jaunts.
a lifetime of small business
a lifetime of small business
born a businesswoman
Enterprise Girl
I was born to be a solopreneur. I can’t help but see opportunities and take action. My earliest memories were of setting up shop in my bedroom and getting my mum to ‘buy’ stuff when she woke up. Later I baked gingerbread men to sell at the local car boot sale. As soon as I was old enough to jump on a train, I’d head to the warehouses in London to buy jewellery and accessories which I’d onsell to the people in my town.
#1 bricks and mortar
Essentials Health
By my early twenties, I had a thriving holistic therapy business. That was back before websites so I hand-delivered leaflets and got featured in the local rag to kick start my biz. It did so well I custom-built new rooms and set up a team of therapists. A decade later, I was in high demand and my appointment book was permanently full. With a heavy heart, I shut up shop when I met Bern and emigrated to Australia.
#2 online entrepreneur
SuperMum Podcast
After having four kids and completing my Business and Marketing degree, I was itching to start a new business. It had to be laptop-based as I never knew where The Captain’s job would take us next. So I started the SuperMum Podcast and created a paid-for programme. Reluctantly, after five glorious years, emigrating to Cambodia plus 9 months of covid homeschooling meant I had to let it go 😢.
#3 my business, my way
Sell More Stuff™
Although giving up my podcast felt like someone was stealing my baby, it opened a new door. I explored lots of possibilities, but with my hands-on experience and thousands spent on online courses, helping women make more sales feels like a calling. Women struggle to ask for the sale. But no sale means no business, and no business means the world loses all the goodness you have to offer. I’m here and ready to help.
born a businesswoman
Enterprise Girl
I was born to be a solopreneur. I can’t help but see opportunities and take action. My earliest memories were of setting up shop in my bedroom and getting my mum to ‘buy’ stuff when she woke up. Later I baked gingerbread men to sell at the local car boot sale. As soon as I was old enough to jump on a train, I’d head to the warehouses in London to buy jewellery and accessories which I’d onsell to the people in my town.
#1 bricks and mortar
Essentials Health
By my early twenties, I had a thriving holistic therapy business. That was back before websites so I hand-delivered leaflets and got featured in the local rag to kick start my biz. It did so well I custom-built new rooms and set up a team of therapists. A decade later, I was in high demand and my appointment book was permanently full. With a heavy heart, I shut up shop when I met Bern and emigrated to Australia.
#2 online entrepreneur
SuperMum Podcast
After having four kids and completing my Business and Marketing degree, I was itching to start a new business. It had to be laptop-based as I never knew where The Captain’s job would take us next. So I started the SuperMum Podcast and created a paid-for programme. Reluctantly, after five glorious years, emigrating to Cambodia plus 9 months of covid homeschooling meant I had to let it go 😢.
#3 my business, my way
Sell More Stuff!
Although giving up my podcast felt like someone was stealing my baby, it opened a new door. I explored lots of possibilities, but with my hands-on experience and thousands spent on online courses, helping women make more sales feels like a calling. Women struggle to ask for the sale. But no sale means no business, and no business means the world loses all the goodness you have to offer. I’m here and ready to help.
Get Ready to Sell More Stuff
Join me and I’ll show you how
Get Ready to Sell More Stuff
Join me and I’ll show you how