The Farmer Who Hid from Paying Customers

Here's a walrus-sized statement nobody's gonna like 🤣:

Worrying about "bothering people" makes you an ineffective business owner.

Ouch!

Was that the sound of your flesh just peeling right off your face?!

I mean—imagine if a farmer planted a whole field of watermelons, grew the whole crop, harvested the hell out of these 30-pound monsters, stacked 'em up in a gorgeous pyramid by the road, made a little sign, the whole bit—

—and then when a van full of tourists pulled up waving cash, ready to buy twenty of 'em?

He sprinted into the outhouse. Locked the door. Held his breath. Whispered "we're closed" through the little crescent moon cutout.

Because selling felt too pushy.

THIS IS YOU WITH YOUR EMAIL.

People are showing up with money in their hands, curious about your work, so they subscribe to your newsletter (or, the world's worst call-to-action ever "to get updates"), and then you dump their dead body on the side of the road.

Graphic!

But, same same. They're there because they think you're the bee's knees 🐝—not because you have put a knife into their ribs, or because you have kidnapped their favorite child, or because you have threatened to take away their only can of salt 'n vinegar peanuts.

(Aside: DO YOU KNOW ABOUT SALT 'N VINEGAR PEANUTS???)

No, they're there because they want you to lead them.

That's why they signed up.

They are curious about your work, and your insights, and your POV, and your wealth of sparkly, deep knowledge—because you have so much experience that they don't—and, you know what that means?

They want you to email them.

They want your emails!

Your emails are literally the reason they signed up.

But then Harry (your dog) got hit by a lime green BMW on the way to a picnic in Nantucket, and your mother-in-law got sick (dementia—maybe she'll forget she hates you), and the workload started eating your face (like, your actual flesh), and life carried on without you so much as even finding the time to read that book that's been on your nightstand for two years, let alone WRITE THINGS.

And so you proooobably did *that thing people do*, which means emailing sporadically with weird apology energy, randomly sending out links to a blog post you wrote in January, promising yourself you'd recommit to an email strategy, and in the. meantime trying to figure out why your template looks like it just crawled out of a haunted fax machine.

And, while all this *nothing* happens, your email list is just sitting there like a stale sack of potatoes. Worth a small fortune. Doing nothing.

This is what we're fixing inside The Summer Vacation Email Challenge. Which, by the way, means setting up your email automations once, so you can go enjoy the rest of your summer. Not spending your whole summer writing emails. 😆

Most people worry about the wrong things in business.

Because, people who want information from you?

That's a gift.

So, why wouldn't we set up a system that introduces them to your POV, to your worldview, to the way you see your industry; a series of smart emails designed to get them on board with your way of thinking, to cement your brand in their brains; to get them excited about what you can help them do—and, when it comes time to buy?

You're the one.

You're the only one who exists in their mind.

You're the best. You're the champ. You're the coolest. You're the GOAT.

All because of a smart email strategy that doesn't treat each person coming in like a 10th-grade straggler to gym class ("just fall in somewhere!"), but rather?

Treats 'em like royalty.

Let's roll out the red carpet for every single person.

Let's show every single person what we're made of.

Let's not leave your reputation up to chance, or your energy levels, or your schedule that week. Let's engineer it, instead.

Then, you can do whatever you want. Want to sell your socks? YOU'LL HAVE FANS. Want to sell a service? SOLD OUT. Want to sell an online program? PLEASE, YES.

That's where the sales sequence comes in, after your welcome sequence (which I'm helping you build inside of The Summer Vacation Email Challenge, too). But, in reality? The most important part???

Is that first set of emails.

The ones that lay the groundwork.

The ones that share your thinking.

The ones that give you icon status among your audience.

The ones that slink across the pavement and say, "hey, here I am, let's go for a ride."

Not having this set up isn't just costing you unknowable amounts of revenue—it's costing you unknowable amounts of clout.

Your watermelons are good, babe.

Let me help you sell 'em.

Join The Summer Vacation Email Challenge now, and be proud of the emails you send.

Because there is nothing cringe about being the best in the game.

XOXO,

Ash