When I exited my startup last month, I didn’t feel the rush I expected.

No fireworks, no relief—just silence.

For years I had been running on adrenaline: building, pitching, scaling, problem-solving. When the noise stopped, the question that had been buried under all the motion finally surfaced: Now what?

So I did what I’ve always done when life feels disordered—I opened my journal.

Four years of writing, stacked in black Moleskines and Notes app entries, became the map I didn’t know I’d been drawing. Every frustration, breakthrough, late-night idea, and quiet doubt was there. And as I read through it all, patterns started to emerge.

It was like watching the time-lapse of my own consciousness.

And when I cross-referenced those patterns with my INFJ personality type, I realized something fundamental: I had been building a life optimized for results, not resonance.

Year One: The Builder’s Delusion

The first year’s entries were all about goals, growth, and grit.
Every page sounded like a motivational speech to myself.

“Wake up earlier.”
“Scale faster.”
“Don’t get comfortable.”

I was addicted to motion because motion gave me meaning.
But the more I read, the clearer it became—I wasn’t chasing success. I was running from stillness.

Stillness forces reflection, and reflection reveals truth. I wasn’t ready for truth yet. I was building a startup, chasing validation, trying to prove something invisible.

I had written countless times about wanting freedom, yet everything in my life was built on dependency—on investors, on users, on constant growth metrics.

That’s the first thing my journals taught me:
You can’t build freedom from a place of fear.

Year Two: The Shift Toward Meaning

By year two, my tone shifted. The words “impact” and “purpose” started appearing more often.

I began questioning the point of what I was building. Why was I pouring myself into a company that didn’t align with who I was becoming?

“I feel like I’m living someone else’s dream.”
“Why do I keep chasing things I don’t want?”
“I’m surrounded by people, but I’ve never felt more alone.”

I didn’t realize it then, but that was my INFJ nature fighting for air.
INFJs crave alignment between action and purpose. We can’t fake enthusiasm or pretend something matters when it doesn’t.

While other personalities thrive on external validation, INFJs live and die by internal coherence. When our inner world and outer world clash, we burn out—quietly, but completely.

I was trying to lead like an ENTJ, operate like an ESTP, and build like an INTJ—all the while suppressing the intuitive, idealistic, meaning-driven part of me that made me who I was.

I didn’t need more hustle. I needed more honesty.

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Year Three: The Collapse and the Clarity

By year three, the cracks became canyons.

The journal entries turned darker—more questions, fewer answers.
I was exhausted, questioning my leadership, my identity, even my ambition.

“I’ve built something I no longer recognize.”
“I’m succeeding on paper but shrinking as a person.”
“Why does peace feel like failure?”

That line—why does peace feel like failure—hit me the hardest when I reread it.

Because that’s the INFJ paradox: we’re driven by inner vision but crushed by external noise. We want to lead, but not at the expense of our soul. We want success, but not if it means becoming someone else to get it.

I started realizing that burnout wasn’t a lack of rest—it was the cost of betraying my design.

That year broke me, but it also clarified me. I stopped journaling about what I wanted to do and started journaling about who I wanted to be.

Year Four: The Reconstruction

The last year of entries read differently. Slower. Quieter. More structured, but with purpose.

I began building systems around who I actually was, not who I thought I needed to be.
I stopped setting goals to prove my worth and started setting goals that preserved my peace.

I found a rhythm that matched my INFJ wiring: deep work, solitude, then social connection. Reflection first, execution second. Strategy guided by intuition, not impulse.

I became less obsessed with timelines and more focused on alignment.

Every decision started passing through one filter:
“Does this bring me closer to truth, or further from it?”

That question became my compass.

The INFJ Connection

The Myers-Briggs test didn’t change me—it decoded me.

Reading my old entries through the lens of an INFJ was like switching the light on in a dark room I had lived in for years.

It explained why I could build systems but hated managing chaos.
Why I could see the long-term vision clearly but felt paralyzed in short-term tasks.
Why I craved solitude after every social interaction.
Why I cared deeply but often said nothing.

It all made sense.

INFJs aren’t designed to chase every opportunity. We’re built to refine one calling.
We don’t thrive in noise—we thrive in nuance.
We don’t need constant excitement—we need constant meaning.

And when I finally started designing my life around that reality, the fog lifted.

The Five-Year Plan

Last week, after weeks of reflecting, reading, and re-centering, I finished mapping my next five years. It wasn’t a productivity plan—it was a peace plan.

It wasn’t about hitting arbitrary milestones. It was about alignment between who I am and what I build.

I designed it around three truths my journals taught me:

1. I create best from solitude.
   My deepest insights and most effective strategies come when I disconnect. Solitude isn’t isolation—it’s incubation.

2. My work must mean something.
   If I can’t connect my effort to purpose, I lose interest. Meaning is my fuel.

3. I need to build slow to last long.
   I used to think speed equaled success. Now I know sustainability is what compounds.

This plan is not about empire—it’s about essence.
Every project, every goal, every routine now aligns with who I’ve always been: an introspective creator who wants to build systems that serve others, not enslave himself.

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What Journaling Really Reveals

Here’s what four years of self-documentation taught me:

• You are predictable. Your patterns don’t lie. They’re data waiting to be decoded.

• You are consistent. Even your pivots orbit a core theme. Find it. Name it. Design around it.

• You are your best teacher. No coach, book, or system can rival the lessons you’ve already written.

Journaling isn’t about nostalgia—it’s about pattern recognition.
It turns your experiences into a dataset for self-awareness.
And self-awareness is the foundation of every meaningful plan.

When I closed my last journal entry from this year, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—certainty.

Not the kind that comes from knowing the future, but from finally understanding the past.

I realized that every misstep, every burnout, every detour was me trying to outsmart my own wiring. I was trying to act like a different type of person in a different type of story.

Now, I’m writing a new one—one that fits the way my mind was made to move.

The irony?
Everything I’d been searching for through strategy, success, and scaling was hidden in those quiet pages all along.

Journaling didn’t just change my direction. It brought me home.

Still editing and updating this... bare with me 🙏🏽

I had to copy and paste it from Ghost.org (my old blog) and it was formatted poorly after pasting.

Over the past two years, my co-founders and I raised nearly half a million dollars in venture funding for our freight-tech startup. It was gritty. Dozens of pitches. Hundreds of rejections. A crash course in storytelling, psychology, and stamina. As we prep for our next round, I realized something: fundraising isn’t a one-time performance—it’s a craft. One you have to sharpen before you need it.

So I went deep. I’ve studied everything I could find—courses, decks, articles, investor memos. I sat in on VC panels, decoded how they think, and got coached by Frank Erschen—Canada’s top startup pitch advisor.

This isn’t just a guide for beginners. It’s a tactical operating manual for myself, so I never forget how to raise with clarity, speed, and control. If you’re an early-stage founder trying to break through, this one’s for you.

1 - Pick Your Game (Founders Build for Outcomes)

— Know what game you’re playing before you try to win it.

Before you step into the arena of venture capital, you need to answer a hard question with surgical precision: What game are you actually playing?

This isn’t philosophical. It’s foundational. Because raising capital isn’t a strategy—it’s a consequence of choosing a particular kind of outcome. And if you’re not honest about the outcome you want, you’ll find yourself on a treadmill that you didn’t sign up for.

Let’s break it down.

The Three Games Founders Play

Every startup founder is subconsciously choosing between three games:

1. The Lifestyle Game: You’re building a cash-flowing, freedom-oriented business that lets you work from anywhere, provide for your family, and live life on your terms. You’re optimizing for control and profit, not scale.

2. The Indie Scale Game: You want growth—but you’re bootstrapping or funding growth through revenue. You care about solving a real problem in a niche market. You’re building a base-hit company that can make $1M to $10M a year with high margins.

3. The Venture Game: You’re chasing massive outcomes. You’re building a company that could be worth $100M+ or more in 7-10 years. You’re okay giving up equity and control in exchange for speed, scale, and a shot at outsized impact.

Here’s the kicker: all three are valid—but they require different mindsets, skillsets, and capital structures.

Don’t fall into the trap of assuming that VC money is some kind of trophy. It’s not. It’s a tool, and if you use the wrong tool for the job, you’ll break the whole damn machine.

Let’s take a look at how this plays out in real life.

Example #1: The Indie Hacker Who Knew the Game

Courtland Allen, the founder of Indie Hackers, knew from day one that he wasn’t building a VC rocketship. He was building a community and media brand that supported independent entrepreneurs. No blitz-scaling, no burn rate insanity.

He sold Indie Hackers to Stripe within two years—without raising a dime. It was a strategic acquisition that gave Stripe access to a key audience and gave Courtland what he wanted: autonomy, stability, and reach.

He didn’t try to raise VC money because it didn’t fit the game he was playing. That’s the clarity most founders lack.

Example #2: The Visionary Who Picked the Big Game

Melanie Perkins, co-founder of Canva, had a clear vision: democratize design. She wasn’t building a small tool or a boutique software company. She was building a platform for everyone.

She pitched over 100 investors and got turned down repeatedly. But she kept refining the vision. She was playing the venture game. Today, Canva is worth over $25 billion, and she still controls a majority of the company.

She didn’t give up when it got hard, because she had chosen a game worth suffering for.

How to Choose Your Game (A Founder Decision Matrix)

Use this decision matrix to calibrate your direction before you waste time chasing the wrong capital:

If you check more boxes on the right column, you’re ready for the venture game.

But even if you’re all-in on the venture path, you need to realize that VCs are betting on outcomes, not intentions. The goal is to build something that can return their fund. That means your vision, market, and model all have to show asymmetry—the chance to turn $1 into $100.

The Psychological Cost of the Wrong Game

Here’s what no one tells you: choosing the wrong game will make you miserable.

If you’re a lifestyle founder pretending to be a VC founder, you’ll drown in pressure you never wanted.

If you’re a VC founder who’s trying to bootstrap because you’re afraid to ask for money, you’ll grow too slowly and die in the desert.

The game you choose shapes your psychology, your schedule, your sleep, and your soul. Choose wisely.

The Founder Fit Test

Before you even touch a pitch deck, ask yourself the following:

1. Am I building something that can realistically become a $100M+ company?

2. Do I want to manage the pressure and expectations that come with VC money?

3. Am I ready to give up ownership and control in exchange for speed and growth?

4. Can I tell a clear, credible story about how this company becomes a category leader?

If the answer is no to more than two of those, pause. You may be playing a different game than you think.

What VCs Want (Hint: It’s Bigger Than “Traction”)

VCs are not banks. They don’t care about your spreadsheet or how clean your code is. They’re betting on velocity and vision.

They want to know:

• Can this founder attract other talent?

• Can this product dominate a big, growing market?

• Can this brand become iconic?

• Can this company 10x from where it is now—in the next 18 months?

They don’t fund puzzles. They fund bets. You are the bet.

Homework for Founders Before Raising a Dime

Before you send a single investor email, do this:

1. Write a one-page vision doc. Where is the world going, and how is your company shaping that future?

2. Define your founder archetype: Are you a builder, a visionary, an operator, or a hybrid? What are you missing?

3. Build your personal board of advisors. Even two smart people who’ve raised before can change your trajectory.

4. Talk to 3 founders who’ve raised. Ask what they’d do differently. Listen carefully.

In Closing: Play Your Game, Not Someone Else’s

The most dangerous thing a founder can do is confuse ambition with alignment. Just because others are raising millions doesn’t mean you should.

VC is gasoline. If you’re not already on fire, it won’t help. But if you’ve got that spark, that friction, that traction... VC can take you to orbit.

Pick your game. Play it with everything you’ve got. And when the moment comes to raise, you’ll be ready—not because you followed a script, but because you wrote your own.

2 - The VC Game: Understanding How the System Works

— You can’t win the game if you don’t know the rules.

Read more

Six months ago, I had coffee with a “e-com influencer” who posts about his seven-figure lifestyle in Austin, TX.

Private jets. Luxury watches. Screenshots of bank accounts. The whole performance.

His Instagram said he made $3.2 million last year from “e-commerce and coaching.”

Over coffee, the truth came out.

He made $180,000 last year. Total. Still a lot, but nowhere near $3.2 million.

The Lamborghini? Rented for photo shoots. $800 for four hours.

The private jet? Never actually flew on it. Paid $300 to take photos on a parked plane at a local airport.

The “seven-figure business”? He counted gross revenue, not profit. And most of that revenue came from selling a $1,997 course teaching other people how to “build a seven-figure business.”

His actual business—the e-commerce thing he claimed made him rich? It generated $47,000 in revenue and lost $8,000 after expenses.

He wasn’t making millions from business.

He was making $180,000 selling the dream of making millions from business.

Here’s what nobody tells you about the influencer economy: The product is the dream, not the result.

And you’re the customer.

The Influencer Playbook (Decoded)

“It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” — Upton Sinclair

Here’s the formula they all use:

Step 1: Rent the lifestyle for content

• Lamborghini rental: $500-$1,500/day

• Private jet photoshoot: $200-$500

• Luxury Airbnb for “my house” content: $300-$800/night

• Designer clothes for one video: Borrowed or rented

Total monthly cost for “millionaire lifestyle” content: $3,000-$5,000

Step 2: Show revenue, never profit

“I made $100K this month!”

Translation: Gross revenue before refunds, chargebacks, ad spend, software costs, team salaries, and taxes.

Actual take-home after expenses? Maybe $15K. Maybe less. Sometimes negative.

But “$100K month” sounds better than “I netted $8,000 after everything.”

Step 3: Sell the system that “got them there”

Here’s the dirty secret: Most influencers make more money teaching people how to get rich than they ever made from the business they claim made them rich.

The real estate guru who made $50K flipping houses? He made $2M selling courses on how to flip houses.

The e-commerce expert who built a “seven-figure brand”? He makes more from his $3,000 coaching program than from his actual store.

The “retired at 30” entrepreneur? Still working 60 hours a week creating content and selling courses about retirement.

Step 4: Use fake urgency and FOMO

• “Only 3 spots left!”

• “This closes at midnight!”

• “I’ll never offer this price again!”

All lies. The course reopens next month. There are unlimited spots. The price never actually changes.

They manufacture scarcity to trigger your fear of missing out.

Step 5: Show the highlights, hide the truth

They’ll show you:

• The $50K day

• The Stripe screenshot

• The luxury vacation

• The “passive income” myth

They won’t show you:

• The $30K refund rate

• The 80-hour work weeks

• The $200K in debt funding the lifestyle

• The mental health crisis from living a lie

• The marriage falling apart because everything is content

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The Math They Don’t Want You to See

“Comparison is the thief of joy.” — Theodore Roosevelt

Let’s do some basic math on a “successful” course-selling influencer:

Revenue:

• Course price: $2,000

• Sales per month: 50

• Gross monthly revenue: $100,000

• Annual gross: $1,200,000

Sounds incredible, right? “Seven-figure business owner!”

Reality (Actual Expenses):

• Ad spend (Facebook/Instagram/YouTube): $40,000/month

• Software and tools: $2,000/month

• Video editor and team: $8,000/month

• Affiliate commissions: $15,000/month

• Refunds (20% average): $20,000/month

• Chargebacks and payment processing: $3,000/month

• Business taxes and accounting: $5,000/month

• Total monthly expenses: $93,000

Actual monthly profit: $7,000

Annual take-home: $84,000

That’s still good money. But it’s not “seven figures.”

And it requires maintaining an audience, constant content creation, managing a team, dealing with angry customers, and living a life where everything you do is performance.

Oh, and if the algorithm changes or ad costs increase? That $84K can drop to $30K overnight.

Is that really the dream they’re selling?

What “Retired at 30” Actually Means

“Retirement is not the end of the road. It is the beginning of the open highway.” — Unknown

Here’s my favorite influencer lie: “I retired at 30.”

No, you didn’t.

You just changed jobs.

“Retirement” means:

• Creating content 6 hours a day

• Responding to DMs to maintain engagement

• Running paid ads to keep the funnel alive

• Updating courses when students complain

• Doing sales calls with potential coaching clients

• Managing contractors and team members

• Dealing with customer support issues

• Constantly creating new offers because the last one saturated

That’s not retirement. That’s a full-time job with no boss and inconsistent income.

Actual retirement means you stop working and your assets generate enough income to sustain your lifestyle.

What these influencers built isn’t passive income. It’s a personal brand that requires their constant presence to survive.

The moment they stop posting, the income stops.

That’s not freedom. That’s a different kind of prison—one where your entire life becomes content and your value is measured in engagement metrics.

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The Deceptive Tricks You Need to Recognize

“A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes.” — Mark Twain

Trick 1: The “Screenshot Proof”

Yes, this is legit. I assisted my client in generating a substantial amount of business in real estate. But here's the full story:

These 73 deals represent the collective efforts of his entire team throughout the year (that's their commission... not mine). Additionally, the deals were made in Atlanta, where property prices are inherently higher. Lastly, my contributions were limited to building his team’s website and enhancing their social media presence. 

Without that added context, it seems as though I single-handedly generated $27M for my client in revenue and received a $1.5M commission.

Bank screenshots can be faked in 60 seconds with inspect element in Chrome.

Stripe dashboards? Same thing.

PayPal screenshots? Easily manipulated.

Even if they’re real, they show revenue, not profit. And they never show the full picture—just the one big day that makes them look successful.

Trick 2: The “Lifestyle by Association”

This is my co-founders and I pitching the President of Microsoft, Brad Smith, in one of our investors' companies. While it looks great, this was not the norm by any means.

They post photos with actually successful people and let you assume they’re at the same level.

“Just had dinner with [famous entrepreneur]” = They paid $5,000 to attend a mastermind event where they got a photo.

“Closed a deal with [big company]” = They sold them a $500 consulting call.

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Trick 3: The “Fake It Till You Make It” Culture

The above image looks like I made it, huh? I posted it on Facebook because I wanted all of my former classmates and teachers, family, and friends to think I was just killing. I even had people wanting to pay me to teach them how to pitch (I only had two slides and barely got through those lol)

Had I posted it with the intent to simply share our journey, no problem. But I didn’t.

They’ll tell you to “act as if” and “step into the identity of a millionaire.”

Translation: Spend money you don’t have to look successful so you can convince people to give you money.

This is how people go into six-figure debt trying to maintain an image that attracts customers.

Trick 4: The Survivorship Bias Story

I don’t have any screenshots of this… but I have used it before lol

“I dropped out of college and built a seven-figure business!”

What they don’t mention: 10,000 other people did the same thing and failed miserably.

They’re the 1% success story. But they pitch it like it’s a guaranteed formula.

It’s not. They got lucky, worked insanely hard, or more often—they’re lying about the numbers.

Trick 5: The “Invest in Yourself” Manipulation

Honestly can say I've never used this angle, but I have become victim of it. The screenshot is a portion of the courses I've purchased.

From paying around $20k over the last 8-ish years on courses from Dan Koe, Tia Lopez, Justin Welsh, Dan Lok, Grant Cardone, and more.

Some are legitimately valuable (Dan's, Justin's, and Grant's) but not the others... which were the more expensive ones.

“If you can’t afford my $5,000 course, you’re not serious about success.”

No. If you can’t afford it, you probably shouldn’t buy it.

This is manipulation designed to make you feel like financial irresponsibility is ambition.

Real investment in yourself looks like: Books. Free content. Learning by doing. Building skills. Not going into debt for a course that promises transformation.

What They’re Really Selling (And Why It’s Dangerous)

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” — Henry David Thoreau

The influencer economy isn’t selling business strategies.

It’s selling an escape from the anxiety of normal life.

You’re working a job you tolerate. You’re stressed about money. You see someone on Instagram who claims they escaped—and now they’re on a beach making money while they sleep.

That’s the drug. The promise of escape.

And it’s almost always a lie.

What they’re actually doing:

• Working more hours than you

• Dealing with inconsistent income

• Constantly worried about algorithm changes

• Living a performance for engagement

• Building a business that completely depends on them

They traded one form of stress for another. But at least their stress looks good on Instagram.

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The Lifestyle Business Alternative Nobody Talks About

“Wealth is the ability to fully experience life.” — Henry David Thoreau

Here’s what actually works. What actually builds real wealth. What actually gives you a good, noble life.

Build a lifestyle business.

Not a unicorn startup. Not a seven-figure personal brand. Not a “retire at 30” scheme.

A simple, profitable business that:

• Solves a real problem for real people

• Generates consistent profit (not just revenue)

• Doesn’t require you to become an influencer

• Allows you to live well without performing online

• Builds actual wealth through reinvestment and savings

What this actually looks like:

You run a web design/hairstylist/AI automation business that makes $180K/year in profit. Not revenue. Actual money you keep after expenses.

You work 30-40 hours a week. You have 5-10 great clients. You charge premium rates because you’re excellent at what you do… not because some “guru” says that’s what they charge.

You’re not famous. You’re not on Forbes. You’re not speaking at conferences.

But you’re:

• Saving $60K per year

• Investing in index funds

• Building real wealth slowly

• Living in a nice home you can actually afford

• Spending time with family

• Sleeping well at night

• Not worried about engagement rates or algorithm changes

In 20 years, you’ll have $1.5M+ in investments. Real money. Not screenshots. Not rented Lamborghinis. Actual wealth.

That’s not sexy. It won’t get likes on Instagram.

But it’s real. It’s sustainable. It’s honest.

The Quiet Millionaires Nobody Posts About

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” — Epicurus

You want to know who the actual wealthy people are?

They’re not on Instagram flexing.

They’re:

• The boring accountant who built a firm with 15 employees

• The consultant who charges $500/hour and works 20 hours a week

• The software developer who built a niche SaaS product generating $40K/month in profit

• The local business owner with three locations and zero social media presence

• The couple who lived below their means and invested consistently for 25 years

These people have real wealth. Millions in assets. Financial security. Time freedom.

And you’ve never heard of them. Because they’re not selling you anything.

They’re too busy living the life the influencers are pretending to have.

The Questions You Should Ask Instead

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” — Socrates

When you see someone flexing online, ask yourself:

1. Are they selling the result or the process?
   If their business is teaching you how to do what they did, they’re not successful at the thing—they’re successful at selling the dream. I personally prefer to just document what works for ME. I’m not saying it will work for you, but at least you can try… but there are no guarantees.

2. Do they show profit or just revenue?
   Revenue is vanity. Profit is reality. Anyone can generate revenue by spending more on ads. Show me the profit margins.

3. Would they still do this if they couldn’t post about it?
   If the answer is no, they’re not building a business—they’re building an audience. Those are two very different things.

4. What are they sacrificing that they’re not showing?
   Every choice has a cost. What’s the cost of the lifestyle they’re portraying?

5. Is this the life I actually want?
   Or am I just attracted to the performance of success? I thought I really wanted a Mercedes. Now that I have one, I would be 110% content with a Tesla… which is what I was saving for in the first place. Yet, I saw other founders on IG driving Mercedes and assumed I needed to “fit in”.

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The Better Path Forward

You don’t need to retire at 30.

You don’t need a Lamborghini.

You don’t need to be Instagram famous.

You need:

• A profitable skill people will pay for

• Clients who value your work

• Consistent systems that generate revenue

• Reasonable expenses that don’t require performance

• Time to build real wealth through saving and investing

• A life you don’t need to escape from

That’s the real dream.

Check This Out 👇🏽
If you want that dream, then you'd want to check out my $2,000 course on how to build a business that... I'm just playing lol 😂

Not the private jet photo shoots.

Not the fake bank screenshots.

Not the course launch that makes $100K but costs $85K to deliver.

Build something real. Build something sustainable. Build something that serves others while building wealth for yourself.

Live below your means. Invest the difference. Compound for decades.

That’s how you actually get wealthy.

It’s boring. It’s slow. It won’t get you likes on social media.

But in 20 years, you’ll have millions in the bank while the influencers are still renting Lamborghinis for content.

The choice is yours.

Stop buying the dream from people selling courses.

Start building the reality through consistent, honest work.

Your future self will thank you.

Three months ago, I was sitting in a coffee shop, broke.

Not “I can’t afford the new iPhone” broke. More like “I’m calculating if I can afford this $4 coffee” broke.

I had spent the previous months transitioning out of my startup and building what I thought was the perfect service for my new agency business. CRO and copywriting packages. Professional website. Detailed 3-page service agreement. A pricing structure that took me three weeks to develop.

I made $0.

Then I got an email from someone who found my LinkedIn profile: “Hey, can you help me fix my LinkedIn profile? I’ll pay you $100 if you can get it done this week.”

I sent back a one-sentence reply: “Yes. Send me the details.”

That was it. No fancy proposal. No multi-page agreement. Just a problem and a solution.

That moment taught me everything about creating services that actually make money.

Most People Are Building Services Nobody Wants

Here’s what very few people tell you about creating a monetizable service:

The market doesn’t care about your credentials, your process, or how comprehensive your offering is.

The market cares about one thing: Can you solve a specific problem they have right now?

You’re probably doing what I did. You’re trying to create the “perfect” service. Something comprehensive. Something that showcases all your skills. Something you can be proud of.

Meanwhile, people are literally pulling out their credit cards to pay for solutions to problems you could solve in your sleep.

The difference between a service that makes $0 and one that makes $1,000+ per month isn’t quality.

It’s specificity.

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The 30-Day Service Creation Framework

Here’s the truth: You already have the skills to create a $1,000/month service.

You just need to package them correctly.

Week 1: Identify Your Unfair Advantage

Stop trying to be everything to everyone.

What can you do in two hours that would take someone else two days? That’s your unfair advantage.

For me, it was optimizing LinkedIn profiles and positioning my clients into “micro-thought leaders”. I could do in an afternoon what would take most entrepreneurs weeks of confusion and stress.

For you, it might be:

• Creating social media content strategies that actually convert

• Setting up automated systems for small businesses

• Writing copy that sounds like a real human wrote it

• Analyzing policy documents and translating them into actionable insights

Write down three things you can do significantly faster or better than the average person. Pick the one people actually pay for.

Week 2: Find Your Wealthy Problem

Not all problems are created equal.

Some problems people will tolerate. Other problems cause enough pain that people will pay to make them disappear.

Your job is to find the intersection between:

1. What you can solve easily

2. What causes enough pain that people will pay

3. What people have money to spend on

I call these “wealthy problems.”

Wealthy problems exist in businesses, not hobbies. They exist in time-sensitive situations, not theoretical futures. They exist where money is already flowing.

Spend week two having conversations. Not sales calls. Conversations.

Ask people in your network: “What’s the most frustrating part of [your business/your job/your situation] right now?”

Listen for urgency. Listen for pain. Listen for where money is being lost or time is being wasted.

Check This Out 👇🏽
Go to ChatGPT or Claude or whatever and ask it for your ideal customers' top 10 pain points and aspirations. This alone will help you identify how to best bridge the gap between their problems and their solutions.

Week 3: Create Your Minimum Viable Offer

Here’s where most people sabotage themselves.

They try to create a comprehensive service that covers every possible scenario. They spend weeks building out processes, creating contracts, designing workflows.

Stop.

Your minimum viable offer should be one sentence:

“I help [specific person] solve [specific problem] in [specific timeframe].”

That’s it.

For my first real (recurring money-generating) service, was: “I help founders build a consistent client pipeline on LinkedIn in 90 days”

No complex packages. No tiered pricing. No 12-step process.

One problem. One solution. One clear outcome.

Create a simple one-page description of:

• The exact problem you solve

• The exact outcome they get

• How long it takes

• What it costs

Price it between $300-$1,000. You need to hit $1,000/month, not $10,000/month. Start with what’s achievable.

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Week 4: Sell It Before You Perfect It

This is the week that separates people who make money from people who make excuses.

You need to get three clients in seven days.

Not through ads. Not through a perfect website. Through direct outreach.

Make a list of 30 people who might have the problem you solve. These can be:

• People in your existing network

• People in relevant Facebook groups or LinkedIn communities

• People whose content you engage with

• Local businesses in your area

Send them a simple message:

“Hey [Name], I noticed you’re [relevant context]. I’m helping [type of person] solve [specific problem] right now. Would it make sense to have a quick conversation about this?”

Ten will respond. Five will be interested. Three will buy.

That’s $900-$3,000 in week four.

The Real Secret

Here’s what I learned from that $100 email (which turned into $500, which turned into a $2,000/month retainer):

People don’t buy services. They buy outcomes.

They don’t want your process. They don’t want your expertise. They don’t want your credentials.

They want the problem gone.

The fastest way to create a service that makes $1,000/month isn’t to build something impressive.

It’s to solve a specific, painful problem for a specific person who has money and needs it solved now.

Everything else is just noise.

Stop building. Start selling.

The market will tell you what to create.