Hello rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Ethan’s half-written issue

Ethan is a product manager who writes a newsletter on the side.
This week’s issue is still half-written.

He sat down to finish it three times, and each time he was checking email inside ten minutes.
By evening he decided he lacks discipline, and he should try harder tomorrow.

Tomorrow went the same way.

His struggle:
He can’t figure out what’s really keeping him from finishing one issue.

That evening, a friend at dinner tells him the real story of a woman
who also had something stopping her from starting.

She sold fax machines door to door, kept an idea secret for a year,
and turned it into a $1.2 billion company.

Wanna guess why she told nobody?

🤫 The idea she told nobody

Sara Blakely had an idea for a piece of underwear that would make pants look better, and she told nobody for a year.

Not her friends.
Not her family.

The year was 1998, and she had $5,000 saved from selling fax machines door to door.

That sounds like shyness.

Turns out it was deliberate, and she knew exactly what telling people would do.

In her own words, she kept the idea from them “knowing that out of love, they might prevent me from taking a risk.”

Sara knew exactly what would happen if she described it over dinner.

Someone who cared about her would ask a sensible question.

She’d go home and think about it, and she’d talk herself out of the idea.

So she only spoke to the people who could help her make it: patent lawyers and manufacturers.

That product became Spanx.

Get this — she’d never taken a cent of outside investment when she sold most of it to Blackstone in 2021.

The deal valued the company at $1.2 billion.

She did not become braver.
She removed the conversations that would have talked her out of it.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ The Three Blockers

Sara told nobody for a year.

She didn’t try harder.
She removed the specific thing that was stopping her from moving forward.

Ali Abdaal left medicine to make videos, and now has more than six million subscribers on YouTube.

He wrote Feel-Good Productivity, and he says stalling on your idea is not one problem.

It’s three, and from the outside they look identical.

Ali’s tactic is called The Three Blockers.

Uncertainty is not knowing what the next step actually is.

Fear is knowing the step but not wanting to move forward.

Inertia is knowing the step, not being scared of it, and still not managing to sit down and begin.

Sara’s was fear: her friends and relatives might tell her it was too risky, and feed her own fears.
So she decided not to tell them.

Her fix worked because it matched her blocker.

So if you are not moving forward on any task,
the first move is to find out which blocker is stopping you: uncertainty, fear, or inertia.

Not to push harder.

Name the blocker right and the fix takes minutes instead of months.

🛠️ Ethan’s turn

Back to Ethan and the issue he couldn’t finish, no matter how hard he tried.
That evening, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and tells it what happens every time he sits down to write.

His AI sidekick comes back with one clear answer:
This isn’t laziness, it’s fear that this issue won’t be as good as the last one,
so write the rest badly on purpose, and fix it tomorrow.

He writes the rest that night, without looking back.
On Sunday, it goes out.

🌅 Two months later

Ethan hasn’t missed a Sunday.
When he stalls now, he asks which blocker it is before he tries harder.

Most weeks it’s fear, and he knows the fix.

Your stalled project probably isn’t laziness either.

Name the blocker, then remove it.

That’s it, my fellow trailblazers!

Yours ‘helping you build an AI sidekick that works and makes money while you enjoy life’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below takes the thing you have been avoiding and tells you which of the three blockers
is actually stopping you — then gives you the fix for that one only.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. The thing you haven’t finished, and what you actually do when you sit down to it
   - Type it, or say it out loud with a voice tool.
   - e.g. this week’s newsletter issue, half-written. I sit down, write one line, and I’m checking email inside ten minutes

2. What you tell yourself about why, and what you’re secretly worried about
   - e.g. that I lack discipline, and that this issue won’t be as good as the last one

3. The very next physical action, if you had to name one
   - e.g. write the second half, the part after the story

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my drafts, my sent issues, or my subscriber dashboard, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume first-time product managers.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- Do not give me general motivation advice. Diagnose first, then prescribe for that one only.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

The thing I have not finished, and what I actually do when I sit down to it:
{e.g. this week's newsletter issue, half-written. I sit down, write one line, and I'm checking email inside ten minutes}

What I tell myself about why, and what I am secretly worried about:
{e.g. that I lack discipline, and that this issue won't be as good as the last one}

The very next physical action, if I had to name one:
{e.g. write the second half, the part after the story}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The diagnosis — which of uncertainty, fear or inertia this is, and the line in my input that gives it away.
2. Why it is not the other two — say plainly what would look different if it were.
3. The fix for that one — three concrete moves for the diagnosed blocker only, nothing generic.
4. The two-minute version — the least impressive possible first action, small enough that refusing it would be strange.
5. What to stop doing — the thing I have been trying that treats a different blocker than the one I have.

Then tell me the ONE sentence I should write on a sticky note before I open the file tomorrow.

Howdy rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Nate’s slightly better podcast

Nate is a software engineer who runs a podcast for people learning to code after thirty.
His podcast is a slightly better version of the biggest podcast in his niche.

Same format, same kind of guests, same length, just a little tighter.
Every week, listeners pick the bigger show, because it started five years before his.

His struggle:
He’s copying the leader, so the best he can ever be is second.

Then his sister, who loves makeup, tells him the true story of a woman
who also had to compete with much bigger names,
and built a brand worth $1.8 billion.

Doing the opposite of the giants sounds risky, right?

💄 The blog that became the brand

Emily Weiss got up before work to write a blog about what was actually on women’s bathroom shelves.

She was a fashion assistant at Vogue at the time, and the year was 2010.

The blog was called Into The Gloss, and it wasn’t a magazine about beauty products.

It was long interviews with women about what they really used, and why.

The big beauty companies then all did the same four things.

They sold through department-store counters.
They ran expensive campaigns with famous faces.

They decided what was coming next.
Then they told customers what to buy.

Emily spent four years listening to what women said when nobody was selling to them.

So in 2014 she launched a beauty company that did the opposite of all of it.

Glossier sold online, with no department-store counter.
It put real customers in the ads instead of famous faces.

And it let the blog’s readers say what to make next, then made exactly that.

Get this — it grew without a single traditional ad campaign or retail partner.

By 2018 it was doing $100 million a year.
In July 2021, an $80 million funding round valued it at $1.8 billion.

She did not out-spend the beauty giants.
She did the things the beauty giants had never thought to do.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ The Zag Move

Emily sold beauty products with no counter and no famous face.

What Emily did has a name: The Zag Move.

She didn’t try to beat the big companies at what they were already good at.

She looked at what the whole field did the same way, and did the opposite on purpose.

So you stop competing where the leaders have already won.

You find what everyone else does the same way,
and do the opposite.

🛠️ Nate’s turn

Remember Nate, and his podcast that’s a slightly better copy of the biggest show in his niche?
That night, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email,
and tells it what the big shows in his niche all do the same way.

The reply from his AI sidekick is short:
Every big show in your niche interviews famous engineers, so interview people who got their first coding job after thirty.

He cancels the guest he’d booked for next week.
Then he messages a friend who started coding at thirty-four,
and got her first job last spring.

🌅 Four months later

Nate’s show doesn’t sound like anyone else’s now.
Every guest started coding after thirty,
and listeners write in to ask if they can be the next one.

You don’t have to be better than the biggest name in your niche.

Find what the big names all do the same way, and do the opposite.

That’s it, my fellow mavericks!

Yours ‘bringing you cheat codes for 25x faster business success’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below lists what everybody in your niche does the same way, then finds the one
you can reverse — and tells you what it would cost you.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. Your topic, and the three or four biggest shows or people in it
   - e.g. learning to code after thirty, and two former big-tech engineers and a coding-bootcamp founder who all publish weekly

2. What they all do the same way
   - Their format, length, tone, and who they talk to.
   - e.g. hour-long interviews with famous engineers, addressed to people in their twenties trying to get hired at big tech

3. What you know that is different from what they all do, and what you are not willing to do
   - e.g. most of my listeners do not want big tech, they want their first coding job at any company, and I will not discuss my salary

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my episode list, my show notes, or my download numbers, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume people learning to code after thirty, at night, around a full-time job.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- If you can browse, go and look at the shows and people I name before answering. Otherwise, use what I paste below.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

My topic, and the three or four biggest shows or people in it:
{e.g. learning to code after thirty, and two former big-tech engineers and a coding-bootcamp founder who all publish weekly}

What they all do the same way — format, length, tone, who they address:
{e.g. hour-long interviews with famous engineers, addressed to people in their twenties trying to get hired at big tech}

What I know that is different from what they all do, and what I am not willing to do:
{e.g. most of my listeners do not want big tech, they want their first coding job at any company, and I will not discuss my salary}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The sameness list — everything the leaders do identically, separated into rules of the game and choices they merely all made.
2. The reversible one — which single choice I could invert, and what my version literally looks like on the page.
3. The first three pieces — titles and opening lines for the first three things I publish the new way.
4. Who leaves and who arrives — which readers I lose by doing this, and which ones show up who had nobody.
5. The wrong-looking part — what will feel like a mistake for the first two months, so I do not quit at week three.

Then name the ONE thing I have been copying because I assumed it was a rule.

Hey rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Wes’s buried best part

Wes is a data analyst who writes a newsletter about money on the side.
The best part of this week’s issue is halfway down the page, and almost nobody reads that far.

Every reply he gets only talks about the first paragraph.

His struggle:
He opens with a few slow lines before he gets to the point, so readers leave before the best part.

Then, clearing out old magazines, he runs into the true story of a man
who also needed people to read to the very end, because his ads ran hundreds of words long.

He built a company that made about $12 million a year.

Twelve million dollars a year, from words on a page?

✉️ The basement that sold by mail

Joe Sugarman set up in his family’s basement in Northbrook, Illinois, and started selling gadgets by mail.

The year was 1971.

Pocket calculators, digital watches, tiny chess computers.

He had no store, no salespeople and no television.

He had one page in a magazine, and whatever a stranger decided while looking at it.

That’s a hard place to sell from.

A page can’t answer a question, and the reader is holding a magazine full of other pages.

So he stopped writing advertisements and started writing things people finished.

Get this — his ads ran long, hundreds of words about a calculator, and people read all of them.

By 1979 that basement company was making around $12 million a year and employed about seventy people.

Later he sold a pair of sunglasses called BluBlockers the same way, and sold tens of millions of pairs.

He was not a better writer than the people he beat.
He had a rule about sentences and they did not.

And what was it?

🔥 The recipe

➡️ The Slippery Slide

Joe started in a basement and grew to $12 million a year, with ads people read all the way through.

Joe’s strategy is called The Slippery Slide, and his rule is that every sentence has exactly one job.

The job is never to inform.
It’s to get the next sentence read.

So you stop asking whether a line is good and start asking whether it makes the reader want the next line.

Your best lines actually get read, because people are still reading the article.

🛠️ Wes’s turn

Now, back to Wes, whose readers leave his newsletter before they reach the best part.
That evening, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it the opening of this week’s issue.

His AI sidekick puts it plainly:
Your advice is fine, but your second sentence gives readers no reason to read the third.

He deletes the warm-up.
He moves the best part up to line three,
and makes every line before it leave one question open.

🌅 Six weeks later

Wes still writes the same kind of advice.
But now the replies talk about the part halfway down the page,
and some readers write back about the very last line.

Your advice is probably good enough already.

Write every line so the reader wants the next one.

That’s it, my fellow renegades!

Yours ‘helping you gain years of experience without putting in the years’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below takes something you already published and finds the exact line where
readers stop — then rebuilds the opening so they keep reading.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. The opening of something you published
   - The title and the first eight or so lines. Copy and paste them.
   - e.g. “What inflation really means for your paycheck / This week I want to walk through the latest inflation report, because a lot of people have been asking me what the numbers mean, and I think the plain version is more useful than the headlines.”

2. The single best thing buried further down it
   - e.g. that a 3% raise in a year when prices rose 4% is really a pay cut

3. Where your readers read it
   - e.g. in the Gmail app, on a phone, before a meeting

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my drafts, my sent issues, or my subscriber dashboard, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume people who want to understand money numbers without the jargon.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- If you can see my published posts or newsletter archive directly, take the most recent one. Otherwise, use what I paste below.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

Paste the opening of something I published — the title and the first eight or so lines:
{e.g. "What inflation really means for your paycheck / This week I want to walk through the latest inflation report, because a lot of people have been asking me what the numbers mean, and I think the plain version is more useful than the headlines."}

The single best thing buried further down it:
{e.g. that a 3% raise in a year when prices rose 4% is really a pay cut}

Where they read it:
{e.g. in the Gmail app, on a phone, before a meeting}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The stopping line — the exact sentence where an average reader gives up, and why that one.
2. What each opening line is doing — line by line, name the job each one performs, and flag every line whose job is only "informing."
3. A first sentence under eight words that is almost impossible not to finish.
4. The rebuilt opening — the same eight lines, each leaving one thing unfinished, ending at the buried point above.
5. What I moved up — say plainly what is now in line three that used to be in paragraph nine.

Then tell me the ONE sentence in my original that was doing no job at all.

Hello rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♀️ Paige’s price cuts

Paige is a marketing manager who sells a course for small bakeries on the side.
Nobody is buying it, so she cut the price.

It was $200, then $149, and this week it is $99, and it still is not selling.

Her struggle:
She thinks the price is the problem, so every cut makes the course look cheaper.

Then a friend who owns a gym tells her the true story of a man
who worked with gyms that were also stuck cutting their prices.

He helped them charge more, not less,
and built a business that made about $17 million in profit in its first year.

Charging more when nobody is buying sounds backwards.

💰 The man with $1,036 left

In December 2016, Alex Hormozi looked at his bank account and found $1,036 in it.

He’d owned a few gyms.
A run of bad decisions had taken almost everything else.

So Alex and his wife Leila started flying out to other people’s gyms, the struggling ones, and staying about two weeks.

They ran the gym’s advertising themselves, sold the memberships in person, and took a cut of the new money they brought in.

Those gyms had been discounting for years.

Cheap trials, cheap first months, cheap everything.

Turns out it had never worked, because the person thinking about joining wasn’t thinking about the price.

They were thinking: this will not work for me either.

So the Hormozis stopped competing on the price and started answering that doubt instead.

Get this — they went the other way and charged more.

Instead of a cheap first month, gyms sold a six-week challenge at several hundred dollars, paid up front.

And they ran those six weeks for the member: a nutrition plan, sessions already in the calendar, somebody checking whether they turned up.

The price went up, and the odds of failing went down.

They found out what buyers really needed, and gave it to them.

They turned the system into a business called Gym Launch.

In its first year it made about $17 million in profit.

In 2021 they sold 66% of it, together with their supplement company, for $46.2 million.

He did not find cheaper customers.
He changed the question in the customer’s head, from ‘is it cheap?’ to ‘will it work for me?’

🔥 The recipe

➡️ The Value Equation

Alex charged more, and made it safer for the buyer to say yes.

Alex’s tactic is called the Value Equation, and he says a buyer is quietly asking four questions.

Price is not one of them.

What will I get?
How do I know it will work for me?

How long will it take?
How much work is it for me?

You want the buyer to get more and trust it more, and to wait less and work less.

Most people only work on the first question, and make the promise bigger, because that costs nothing.

Alex went at the second question instead: how do I know this will work for me.

That’s the one buyers are usually stuck on.

So instead of focusing on price, answer all four questions the buyer is asking.
Answer them well enough and they pay.

Leave the price alone.
Make it safe to say yes, and the same offer starts selling.

🛠️ Paige’s turn

Back to Paige, and the bakery course she has cut to $99 and still can’t sell.
That evening, she runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it her sales page and every price she’s tried.

Her AI sidekick comes back with one clear answer:
Your buyers don’t doubt the price, they doubt it will work for a bakery like theirs.

She puts the price back to $200.
Then she rewrites the top of her sales page,
so it answers the one question bakery owners were really asking: will this work for my bakery?

🌅 Two months later

Paige hasn’t cut the price once since that night.
Bakery owners reply to her emails now,
and they ask about their own bakeries instead of saying “maybe later”.

If nobody is buying, the price is probably not the problem.

Answer the buyer’s doubt, and leave the price alone.

That’s it, my fellow contrarians!

Yours ‘proving to you that most business failures are preventable and success can be engineered’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below takes the thing you sell and finds which of the four questions your buyer is
stuck on — so you stop discounting a problem that was never about money.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. What you sell, the price, and what the buyer wants to happen afterwards
   - e.g. a course on how small bakeries find local customers, cut from $200 to $99, so the owner sees a line on a slow Tuesday morning

2. What makes buyers doubt it will work for them, and the reason they give for not buying
   - Use their own words if you have them.
   - e.g. they think their town is too small for marketing to work, and they say “it’s a bit much for me right now”

3. How long before buyers see anything, and what they have to do to get there
   - e.g. six modules, about four hours, and they have to set up a free Google listing for the bakery

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my course outline, my lesson drafts, or my sales page, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume owners of small bakeries three years in, with quiet weekday mornings.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- If you can see my sales page or past buyer messages directly, read them. Otherwise, use what I paste below.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

What I sell, the price, and what the buyer actually wants to happen afterwards:
{e.g. a course on how small bakeries find local customers, cut from $200 to $99, so the owner sees a line on a slow Tuesday morning}

What makes them doubt it will work for them, and the reason they give for not buying:
{e.g. they think their town is too small for marketing to work, and they say "it's a bit much for me right now"}

How long before they see anything, and what they have to do to get there:
{e.g. six modules, about four hours, and they have to set up a free Google listing for the bakery}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The four questions — rate my offer out of ten on each one, and say which of the four is weakest.
2. The real objection — what "it's a bit much right now" is actually saying, given those four ratings.
3. Certainty moves — three concrete ways to make buying safe, so the buyer believes it will work for them.
4. Speed and effort moves — two ways to get them a first result sooner, and two things I can do for them instead of asking them to do it.
5. The version at double the price — what would have to be true of the offer for that to be the obvious buy.

Then tell me the ONE change that would let me leave the price exactly where it is.

Howdy rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♀️ Kate’s messages to strangers

Kate is an HR manager who runs workshops on the side, for people changing careers in their 40s.
Every week, she sends a message about her workshop to fifty strangers, and most of them never reply.

They never asked to hear from her, so every message lands as an interruption, and it feels like begging every time.
The few who do reply are annoyed.

Her struggle:
She reaches out to strangers first, so her offer always arrives as an interruption.

Flipping through a marketing book at a friend’s house,
she reads the true story of a marketer who also thought selling to strangers was rude,
and later sold his own company to Yahoo for $29.6 million.

Polite beat pushy.
Here’s how.

📬 The man who asked first

Seth Godin looked at how everybody was doing email in the late 1990s and decided it was rude.

Companies bought lists of email addresses.
Then they emailed everyone on them.

Worse than rude, he thought.
A waste of money.

A stranger who didn’t ask for your message has no reason to read it, and every reason to resent it.

So he built a company called Yoyodyne that did the opposite.

It ran games, contests and treasure hunts online.
To play, you signed up, and agreed to get emails from the company paying for the game.

Nobody was interrupted.
Every single person had asked to be there.

Plot twist: people actually read those messages, because they had asked for them.

Yahoo bought Yoyodyne in October 1998 and made Seth its vice president of direct marketing.

$29.6 million.

He did not find a better way to interrupt people.
He stopped interrupting them.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ Permission Marketing

Seth built a company on asking permission first.

Seth’s move is called Permission Marketing, and it’s the title of the book he wrote about it.

He didn’t send his offer to more strangers.
He only wrote to people who had already said yes.

So the offer stops being the first thing you send.

You only ever sell to people who said yes to hearing from you.
It stops feeling like begging.

🛠️ Kate’s turn

So what about Kate, the HR manager sending her workshop to strangers who never asked to hear from her?
That evening, she runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and tells it the question every career changer in her workshops asks first.

Her AI sidekick says:
Give away your answer to that question for free, and offer the workshop only to people who asked for the answer.

That weekend, she turns her answer into a free one-page guide.
She stops messaging strangers, and tells two online groups for career changers that the guide is free to anyone who asks.

🌅 Ten weeks later

Kate hasn’t sent a message to a stranger since.
Three hundred people have asked for her guide,
and dozens of them have written back to say thank you.

When she opened her next workshop, she told only those people, and nobody replied annoyed.

The people you want to reach will listen, once they’ve said yes.

Get a yes first, then send the offer.

That’s it, my fellow outliers!

Yours ‘helping you build profitable businesses 25x faster’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below designs the thing people say yes to — the small, genuinely useful piece
that gets people to say yes to hearing from you, before you sell them anything.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. What you eventually want to sell
   - e.g. a $150 workshop on changing careers after 40

2. The question your audience keeps arguing about, with no clear answer anywhere
   - The one they ask you first, or ask each other.
   - e.g. whether you need a new degree to change careers, or can learn on the job

3. Something that took you years to learn, and now feels obvious to you
   - Type it, or say it out loud with a voice tool.
   - e.g. the eight sentences that explain a career change on a résumé without sounding like an apology

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my workshop outline, my slides, or my notes, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume people in their 40s who want to change careers.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- Do not design a teaser. Design something that is useful even if they never buy anything.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

What I eventually want to sell:
{e.g. a $150 workshop on changing careers after 40}

The argument my people have that nobody has settled for them:
{e.g. whether you need a new degree to change careers, or can learn on the job}

What I know that took me years and is boring to me now:
{e.g. the eight sentences that explain a career change on a résumé without sounding like an apology}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The settled argument — the one question I can answer better than anywhere else on the internet, in one line.
2. Three yes-worthy things — each useful on its own, each buildable in a weekend, with the exact title I would put on it.
3. The ask — the two sentences that go where someone decides whether to give me their email, in my voice.
4. The first four messages after the yes — what each one gives, and what each one earns the right to do next.
5. Where the offer goes — which message the sale belongs in, and why it is not any of the earlier ones.

Then tell me the ONE thing I am currently sending to people who never agreed to hear from me.

Hey rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Sam’s six-month course

Sam is an operations manager who writes a newsletter on simple systems for small-business owners.
He spends every weekend trying to design a course to sell, sketching modules and planning videos,
and every version would take six months to build.

Then a friend who is starting a newsletter asks how he gets his out every week,
and he sends them the checklist he uses.

He never thinks of charging for it, because he made it for himself.

His struggle:
He keeps trying to invent a product, so he never sees the one he already has.

That Saturday, his friend replies with a link to the true story of a YouTuber
who also built something just for his own use, never thinking of selling it,
and later made $2.1 million.

Wait till you see what he was actually selling.

🧩 The setup a YouTuber built to get his own videos out

In 2010, Thomas Frank was a college student who wanted to write for a website that gave students study tips.

He got turned down.

So he took the article he had written for the job application
and started his own blog with it.

By 2012, that blog paid him a full-time income.

In late 2014 he started making YouTube videos of the same study tips, and by early 2018 he had a million subscribers.
Today the channel has more than two million.

By then he had a small team helping him, and making each video had become a mess.

Video ideas were in one place, scripts in another, filming notes in a third,
and nobody was sure which video was going out when.

So Thomas built himself a system to fix it.

He built it inside Notion, a free app for keeping notes and to-do lists, where you can arrange everything however you want.

Between 2018 and 2021, he moved his team’s whole video process into it.

Every idea, every script, every filming note, every deadline, all in one place.

He was not building a product.

He was just trying to get his own videos out on time.

Meanwhile, the questions his viewers kept sending him were all about one thing:
how to get organized.

So in 2020, he made a simple to-do list system in Notion, called Ultimate Tasks,
and gave it away for free.

Anyone could copy it into their own Notion and start using it,
and he made a video showing how.

That video was watched more than 750k times.

People who downloaded it joined his email list, a separate list just for his Notion fans.

By early 2022, that list had about 35,000 people on it.

Boom, now he knew people wanted his systems.

But selling one took real work.

His own system was full of shortcuts only he understood.

So he had to rebuild it cleanly, so a stranger could use it without him there to explain.

Then he wrote instructions for every part, and recorded hours of video lessons showing how it worked.

He took a month off from YouTube to do it.

Sponsors pay him per video, so that month cost him about $16,000.

In August 2021, he started selling it.

The exact system he used to run his own YouTube channel, now called Creator’s Companion, for anyone who made videos.

It sold 112 copies in the first month, for $12,858.

Then he went back to Ultimate Tasks, the free to-do list system, and made it much bigger.

He added a place for notes, a place for goals, and a daily planner, so it could run your whole life, not just your tasks.

He called it Ultimate Brain.

On April 5, 2022, he launched it to a waiting list of 3,201 people.

It made $88,241 in its first month.

Turns out that in about two years, those two systems brought in $2.1 million.

Ultimate Brain is still on sale today, for $129.

Thomas never sat in a room trying to think up a product.

He built a system to fix his own messy week, and used it for three years.

Then he sold that same system to people with the same mess.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ Sell the System You Already Built

Thomas built systems to run his own week,
and they brought in $2.1 million in two years.

His viewers kept asking how to get organized.
So he cleaned up his own system and sold it.

This hack is called Sell the System You Already Built.

He didn’t start out designing a product.
He rebuilt the system he already used for his own work, and sold it once he knew people wanted it.

So the next time a friend asks how you manage to send your newsletter every single week, pay attention.

That question tells you people want what you built.

Stop planning the big course that will take six months.

Take the checklist you already use every week, the one you just emailed to your friend, and turn that into your product.

Clean it up so a stranger can follow it without you there to explain.
Put a price on it.

Sell it.

And if nobody has asked yet, do what Thomas did.
Give a small piece of your system away for free, and see how many people want it.

Your AI sidekick can turn your messy checklist into one a stranger can follow, in an hour.

🛠️ Sam’s turn

Let’s check in on Sam, who spends every weekend planning a course that would take six months to build.
That evening, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it the checklist he sent his friend.

His AI sidekick doesn’t waste words:
Skip the course for now, and sell the checklist you already use every week.

That weekend, he cleans up the checklist so a stranger could follow it without him.
On Sunday, he puts a price on it, and adds a link at the bottom of his newsletter.

🌅 Two months later

Sam has his weekends back, and his newsletter hasn’t missed a week.
Two hundred people read it now,
and three of them have written to ask what else he uses to run his week.

The thing you already use every week might be the product you keep trying to invent.

Sell the setup that runs your own week.

That’s it, my fellow mavericks!

Yours ‘helping you build a smart AI sidekick so you can work less and enjoy life more’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below finds the system you already built for yourself and turns it into something you can sell.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. How you actually organize your own work
   - Include anything you built for yourself because nothing good existed. Type it, or say it out loud with a voice tool.
   - e.g. a checklist I run every week to get my newsletter out, plus a spreadsheet tracking every supplier order and when it is due

2. What people have asked you to send them, and who else has the same problem
   - e.g. the newsletter checklist, four times this year, and every small-business owner who writes their own newsletter

3. What it saves the person using it
   - e.g. about two days every three months, and no more missed issues

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my checklists, my spreadsheets, or my notes, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume small-business owners who want simple systems to run their week.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- Every candidate must already exist and already be in use by me. Do not propose anything I would have to design from scratch.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

How I actually organize my own work, and things I rebuilt for myself because nothing good existed:
{e.g. a checklist I run every week to get my newsletter out, plus a spreadsheet tracking every supplier order and when it is due}

What people have asked me to send them, and who else has the same problem:
{e.g. the newsletter checklist, four times this year, and every small-business owner who writes their own newsletter}

What it saves the person using it:
{e.g. about two days every three months, and no more missed issues}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. The inventory — every system, sheet, template or checklist I have built for my own use.
2. The one to sell — which is most complete, most asked-for, and most portable to somebody else.
3. What tidying means — the specific work between my private version and one a stranger could use.
4. The price — anchored on what it saves them, not on how long it took me or what the tool costs.
5. The first ten buyers — who they are by name or by group, and what I say to them.

Then tell me which of my systems I have already sent to somebody for free.

Howdy rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Ethan’s Monday and Friday

Ethan is a product manager who writes a newsletter on the side.
On Monday he was sure his newsletter idea was going to work.

By Friday, after one issue got no replies, he was sure it never would.
So he starts looking for a new topic, and eleven weeks of work is about to be thrown away.

His struggle:
He treats one quiet week as proof the idea is wrong, so he’s about to quit too early.

That night, while scrolling, he comes across the real story of a man
who also had almost no readers for months,
and later helped build writing businesses that crossed $10 million in sales.

Guess how long the quiet part lasted.

✍️ Nine months, three hundred readers

Dickie Bush hit publish on another post almost nobody read.

He was working a full-time finance job at the time, and the year was 2020.

He did that over and over for nine months.

Then, in September, he looked at his subscriber list.

About three hundred people were on it.

Half of those three hundred he’d signed up himself.

Nine months of work.
A hundred and fifty strangers.

Ouch.

If you wanted evidence that something wasn’t working, that’s what it looks like.

He kept publishing anyway.

Then he and a writer called Nicolas Cole turned what he’d learned into a course called Ship 30 for 30.
It teaches people to write online for thirty days straight.

More than ten thousand writers have been through it.

Get this — together with two other writing businesses they built, Ship 30 for 30 has crossed $10 million in sales.

Now notice what did not happen.

Dickie did not suddenly get better in month ten.

The same writing that looked like failure for nine months was what people later paid for.

The writing stayed the same.
What changed was how many people were reading it.

He kept going on the days the numbers said he was an idiot, because he believed the idea was right.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ The Genius-Idiot Rollercoaster

Dickie published for nine months to three hundred people, half of whom he signed up himself.

This move is called The Genius-Idiot Rollercoaster.
The swing between feeling like a genius and feeling like an idiot is normal.

He didn’t have better days than us.
He just kept working on the days that felt like failure.

So one bad day stops being a reason to quit.

The bad weeks stop costing you the project.

🛠️ Ethan’s turn

Now, back to Ethan, who was about to change topics after one quiet week.
That night, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it his real numbers.

His AI sidekick puts it plainly:
At sixty-two subscribers, one quiet week says nothing, so keep going.

He stops looking for a new topic.
On Sunday, the next issue goes out, on the same topic as all the others.

🌅 Nine months later

Ethan hasn’t changed topics once.
Some weeks he still feels the way he did that Friday.

Four hundred people read his newsletter now, and replies come in most weeks.

Your quiet week doesn’t mean the idea is wrong.

On the days you’re sure you’re not good enough, do the work anyway.

That’s it, my fellow anti-status-quo-ers!

Yours ‘helping you skip years of pain and frustration in your life and business’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below separates your bad-day feelings from what your numbers actually show, and gives you something to
read on the bad days.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. How long you’ve been publishing, how often, and the actual numbers
   - However small.
   - e.g. eleven weeks, one issue most Sundays, missed two, 62 subscribers, about 20 opens, four replies ever

2. What you tell yourself on a good day, and on a bad day
   - e.g. good: this is finally clicking, I should go all in. Bad: nobody cares, I picked the wrong topic

3. Why you believed this idea would work in the first place
   - e.g. every first-time product manager I know is drowning and nobody writes plainly for them

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my drafts, my sent issues, or my subscriber dashboard, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume first-time product managers.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- Be honest and kind. Do not cheer me up with numbers that are not there, and do not agree that I am failing.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

How long I have been publishing, how often, and the actual numbers, however small:
{e.g. eleven weeks, one issue most Sundays, missed two, 62 subscribers, about 20 opens, four replies ever}

What I tell myself on a good day, and what I tell myself on a bad day:
{e.g. good: this is finally clicking, I should go all in. Bad: nobody cares, I picked the wrong topic}

Why I believed this idea would work in the first place:
{e.g. every first-time product manager I know is drowning and nobody writes plainly for them}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. Weather or evidence — sort my good-day and bad-day statements into feelings versus things a number actually supports.
2. What the numbers can and cannot say at this size — be blunt about where they say nothing yet.
3. My original reason — restate why I believed this works, in my own words, so I can check whether anything real has changed.
4. My bad-day note — five lines I can reread when I feel like giving up, using only true things.
5. The real stop condition — the specific evidence that would honestly mean I should change direction, decided now while I am calm.

Then name the ONE decision I have been about to make on a bad day that should wait for a calm one.

Hey rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♂️ Nate’s thirty-one things

Nate is a software engineer who runs a podcast on the side.
His to-do list for growing the show has thirty-one ideas on it.

Every one feels too good to delete, so he keeps them all.
He never gets through the list, and the podcast hasn’t grown in a month.

His struggle:
He can’t tell which ideas actually grow the show, so he tries to do all thirty-one.

On a walk, he’s listening to a podcast that tells the real story of a former sales executive
who also had more to do than he could ever finish,
and still built a $10 million business with no employees.

One person, ten million dollars.
Wait, how?

💼 The business with no employees

Justin Welsh walked away from a job most people spend a career climbing toward.

He’d been a vice president of sales, then a chief revenue officer.
He ran big sales teams with big targets.

The last one was at a fast-growing startup in Los Angeles, and the stress built up month after month.
In December 2018, the stress ended in a massive panic attack.

He later called it one of the worst days of his life.

He was 38, and the year was 2019.
His parents couldn’t understand why anyone would leave a job like that.

Then he started a one-person business teaching people to build one-person businesses.

And then he did the odd part.
He kept it a one-person business.

No employees.
No ads.

Now watch.

When new work shows up, his first move is never to find time for it.
It’s to ask whether it needs doing at all.

Turns out most of it doesn’t.

Every week, he opens his calendar and asks one question about each item:
“Does this move me closer to my most important goals?”

If the answer is no, it goes.
That means meetings he shouldn’t have booked, podcasts he doesn’t need to be on,
and favors for friends of friends.

He even pays a freelance assistant, a contractor, not an employee,
to turn down most requests for his time.

Whatever survived that question, he either automated it or paid a freelancer to do it for an afternoon.

He never built a team, because he deleted the pointless work before there was enough of it to need a team.

That business has crossed $10 million in total revenue in under six years, at roughly ninety cents of profit on every dollar.

He did not get better at doing the work.
He got better at not doing it.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ Delete Before Delegate

Justin runs a business past $10 million in total revenue with no employees.

This strategy is called Delete Before Delegate.
You delete the work that doesn’t need doing, before you hand anything to someone else.

Most people avoid deleting work.
He did it first, and only then dealt with what was left.

So before you find time for a task, you ask whether it needs doing at all.

Most of the work on your list disappears at that first question.
Only what survives gets automated, handed to somebody else or done by him.

Now that AI can automate almost anything, deleting first matters more.
Don’t automate work that never needed doing.

🛠️ Nate’s turn

Back to Nate and his thirty-one ideas for growing the podcast.
That night, he runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it the whole list.

His AI sidekick comes back with one clear answer:
Twenty-three of your thirty-one ideas don’t need doing at all.

He deletes all twenty-three that night.
Eight things are left on the list.

By Friday, he’s finished all eight.

🌅 Three months later

Before anything goes on Nate’s list now, he asks whether it needs doing at all.
He’s put out an episode every week,
and three hundred people listen to the show now.

Your list probably has a few things on it that never needed doing.

Cross one off before you find time for it.

That’s it, my fellow contrarians!

Yours ‘proving one person with an AI sidekick can build something amazingly big’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below goes through your real week and finds the work you can stop doing.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. Everything you actually spent time on last week
   - However small. Type it, or say it out loud with a voice tool.
   - e.g. rewrote my about page, answered 40 comments, redesigned my logo, recorded one episode, tidied my Notion

2. What actually grew your show in the last month
   - As far as you can tell.
   - e.g. the one episode people replied to, and a comment thread that got me two listeners

3. How many hours a week you genuinely have for this
   - e.g. about six, mostly evenings

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my calendar, task list, or notes, pull last week's real entries from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume people learning to code after thirty.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- Work out for yourself which tasks I am likely trying to hand off or automate. Do not ask me for that list.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

Everything I actually spent time on last week, however small:
{e.g. rewrote my about page, answered 40 comments, redesigned my logo, recorded one episode, tidied my Notion}

What actually grew the show in the last month, as far as I can tell:
{e.g. the one episode people replied to, and a comment thread that got me two listeners}

How many hours a week I genuinely have for this:
{e.g. about six, mostly evenings}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. Delete — the tasks that should not exist at all, and what happens if I simply stop. Be blunt.
2. Later — what is real but not now, with the month I should revisit it.
3. Automate — only what survived steps 1 and 2, and the tool that would do it.
4. Hand off — what is left, and the smallest way to pay someone else to do it.
5. What I am left with — the short list that actually grows the show, and the hours it needs.

Then name the ONE task I have been trying to speed up that I should have deleted months ago.

Hello rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♀️ Maya’s unsent issue

Maya is a project manager who writes a newsletter on the side.
Her first issue has been finished for six weeks, and she still hasn’t sent it.

Every Sunday she opens it, changes three sentences, and closes it again.

Her struggle:
There’s no day it has to go out, so it never goes out.

That Sunday, a friend sends her the true story of a man who wasn’t ready either,
but filmed himself tasting wine in the back of his family’s shop anyway,
and grew it into a $60 million business.

Believe it or not, it all started with one camera.

🍷 The camera in the back of the shop

Gary Vaynerchuk set up a camera in the back of his family’s wine shop and started recording himself tasting wine.

No script.
No crew.
No studio.

The shop was in Springfield, New Jersey, the year was 2006, and the show was called Wine Library TV.

Most people call him Gary Vee now.

He was born in Belarus, and his family came to America as refugees when he was three.
He’d been working in that shop since he was fourteen, bagging ice for two dollars an hour.

Back then it was called Shopper’s Discount Liquors, and it was his father’s.

After college, in 1998, he took over the store.
He renamed it Wine Library,
and made it one of the first stores in the country to sell wine online.

By 2006, he was sure online video was going to be a big thing.

The first episode went up on February 21, 2006.

The early episodes are rough.

The lighting is bad, he rambles, and he cuts himself off.
He wears New York Jets jerseys on camera, and he spits the wine into an NFL bucket.

Watch one today and you wouldn’t predict any of what came next.

He put them out anyway, and then he did it again the next day.

Get this — he did that every single day for five years.

That first July, around episode 58, he stopped trying to sound formal,
and just talked like himself.

A thousand episodes in all.
The last one went out in August 2011.

At its peak, as many as eighty thousand people watched every day,
and it got him onto TV talk shows, including Ellen DeGeneres’s and Conan O’Brien’s.

He was not waiting to be good on camera.
The next morning came whether he was ready or not, and he filmed anyway.

And...
He grew his family wine shop from $4 million a year to $60 million a year.

Not a typo.

He did not get good and then start.
He started, and got good on the way.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ On Time Beats Perfect

Gary filmed a new episode every morning, whether he felt ready or not.

This tactic is called On Time Beats Perfect.
You pick a fixed time, and whatever exists when it comes is what goes out.

He wasn’t braver than us.
He filmed because it was morning, not because he felt ready.

Being ready was never the question.

So the question stops being “is this good enough yet” and becomes “ready or not, let’s go today”.

You stop making one more fix that nobody asked for.
And the issue actually goes out.

🛠️ Maya’s turn

Remember Maya, and the finished issue she hasn’t sent in six weeks?
That night, she runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and tells it what she’s been putting off.

Her AI sidekick says:
Pick Sunday at 7 p.m., and send an issue at that time every week.

At 7:02 that Sunday, the issue goes out.
It isn’t perfect.

It’s on time.

🌅 Twelve Sundays later

Maya hasn’t missed a single Sunday.
A hundred and forty people read her newsletter now,
and eleven of them have replied to say it helped.

The one that sat unsent for six weeks turned out to be issue one of twelve.

Your finished issue doesn’t need one more fix.
It needs a fixed day to go out.

Hit send, ready or not.

That’s it, my fellow outliers!

Yours ‘showing you that building a business is fun, not a drain’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

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🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below picks a fixed day to publish, so being ready stops mattering.
You just tell it what you have been putting off.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. What you’ve been getting ready to publish
   - How long it’s been, and what already exists, however rough.
   - e.g. the first issue of my newsletter for new team leads, six weeks now, one finished issue and a page of notes

2. What you keep telling yourself you need to fix first
   - e.g. it needs a proper welcome email and a better name

3. When you could publish every week, without rearranging your life
   - e.g. Sunday evening, after the kids are down

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my drafts, my sent issues, or my subscriber dashboard, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume new team leads who were never taught how to manage people.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- If you can see my calendar directly, find a repeating slot I will actually keep. Otherwise, use what I paste below.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

What I have been getting ready to publish, how long it has been, and what already exists, however rough:
{e.g. the first issue of my newsletter for new team leads, six weeks now, one finished issue and a page of notes}

What I keep telling myself I need to fix before it can go out:
{e.g. it needs a proper welcome email and a better name}

When I could realistically publish, every week, without rearranging my life:
{e.g. Sunday evening, after the kids are down}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. My publish slot — the exact day and time, and what I tell people so it is public.
2. What goes out first — built only from what already exists, nothing new invented.
3. The fixes I am dropping — which of my "must fix first" items genuinely do not matter yet, and why.
4. My on-time rule — one sentence I can reread when I want to postpone.
5. The next four — what fills the following four slots, so the schedule is not scary.

Then name the ONE thing I have been waiting to make perfect, and what I will send instead this week.

Hello rebel ideapreneurs 🦸‍♂️🦸‍♀️

🙋‍♀️ Ruby’s income that stops when she does

Ruby is a content strategist who runs one-on-one coaching calls on the side, teaching people to write on LinkedIn.
Her coaching program brings in good money, and every dollar of it stops the week she stops taking calls.

She took a week off in July, and the income for that week was zero.

Her struggle:
She only gets paid while she’s on a call, so a week off costs her a week of income.

Waiting for her next call, she stumbles on the true story of a designer
who also got paid only for the hours he worked,
and whose company now brings in more than $30 million a year.

It started with answers he’d already given away for free.

💻 The designer who wrote down what he already knew

Nathan Barry finished a client project, sent the invoice, and watched his income stop with it.

He was a freelance designer, and he was good, and he was paid by the hour.

So the deal was always the same.
Work an hour, get paid once.

He could raise his rate.
He could not add hours to a day.

So he wrote down the things he already explained to clients over and over, and sold it as a book about designing apps.

None of it was new.
Just the answers he was giving away one client at a time anyway.

He wrote it once.
People kept buying it.

Turns out he wrote more books like it, and at its best that book business paid him between $200,000 and $250,000 a year.

It kept paying whether or not he was working that week.

Then he built something bigger.

ConvertKit, now called Kit, is email software for creators, and it brings in more than $30 million a year.

He did not find more hours.
He changed what he was selling.

🔥 The recipe

➡️ Own What Keeps Paying

Nathan wrote down the advice he’d already given away one client at a time,
and it kept paying him long after he wrote it.

This hack is called Own What Keeps Paying.

He didn’t work more hours to get there.
He stopped being paid by the hour, and sold what he’d already written down instead.

So you stop selling hours and start selling work you made once.

The questions people keep asking you, and the answers you give them, are the product.

It keeps paying on the weeks you don’t wanna work at all.

Answers are now free from AI, so what you sell has to be your tested system or your judgment.

🛠️ Ruby’s turn

Remember Ruby, whose coaching income stops the week she stops taking calls?
That evening, she runs the prompt at the bottom of this email, and gives it the questions people ask her on every call.

The reply from her AI sidekick is short:
Write down the answers you give on every call, and sell them as a guide that keeps working while you’re off.

That weekend, she writes down the five questions everyone she coaches asks, and her answer to each one.
On Sunday night, the guide goes up on her LinkedIn profile, with a price on it.

🌅 Five months later

Ruby took a whole week off in December, and didn’t take a single call.
This time, she didn’t spend the week worrying about it.

People read her guide before they book a call now, so every call starts on the hard questions.

The answers you keep giving away one call at a time are already a product.

Write down the answers you keep giving, once, and sell them.

That’s it, my fellow renegades!

Yours ‘helping you borrow the shortcuts from people who already made it’ Vijay Peduru 🦸‍♂️

⠀

⠀

⠀

⠀

🏄‍♀️ The prompt

The prompt below finds the thing you already repeat and turns it into a product that keeps selling without you.
You just tell it what you keep explaining.

🧰 What you’ll need

1. What you explain over and over, and what you’ve already written down
   - However rough. Type it, or say it out loud with a voice tool.
   - e.g. how to write a LinkedIn post that doesn’t sound like a press release, and a checklist in my Notes app plus four long emails

2. How you get paid now, and what happens when you stop
   - e.g. one-on-one coaching calls, about $90 an hour, and it stops the week I stop

3. What you’d like to be earning from in two years
   - e.g. something that does not need me on a call

🚀 How to run it

1. Open your AI sidekick, ChatGPT, Claude, or whichever one you use.

2. Swap the three examples, the text inside the curly brackets, for your own, then run it. If your AI sidekick can already see your notes, you can run it as is.

🧪 Want to test it first? Run it without changing anything, and it will use the examples.

CONTEXT:
- Use my own material first. If you can see my client notes, my calendar, or my session notes, pull the real details from there instead of the examples below.
- If you know how I write, use my voice. Otherwise, write in a clear, warm, no-jargon voice — first-person, plain words, no startup-speak.
- If you know who my readers are, write for them. Otherwise assume mid-career professionals who want to write better posts on LinkedIn.
- If I have replaced the examples, use only mine. If an example is still there, fill it in from what you already know about me, and mark it as your assumption. If you don't know anything about me yet, use the example exactly as written.
- If you can see my sent messages or documents directly, find what I explain repeatedly. Otherwise, use what I paste below.

=============== INPUTS — edit these, or just run as is ===============

What I explain over and over to different people, and what I have already written down somewhere, however rough:
{e.g. how to write a LinkedIn post that doesn't sound like a press release, and a checklist in my Notes app plus four long emails}

How I currently get paid, and what happens when I stop:
{e.g. one-on-one coaching calls, about $90 an hour, and it stops the week I stop}

What I would want to still be earning from in two years:
{e.g. something that does not need me on a call}

======================== END OF INPUTS ========================

Outputs:
1. What I already repeat — the two or three things I explain most often, in my words.
2. The next step up — the same work sold as one fixed package at one price, and what that price is.
3. The step above that — the smallest thing I could make once, from what I already repeat.
4. What already exists — which of my rough notes and emails is 60% of that product already.
5. What I keep — what I should own outright rather than hand over, and why it matters later.

Then name the ONE thing I have explained more than five times and have never written down.