Probably the single best summation, in comprehensible lay-man's terms, of the perfect foundation to anyone new to internet marketing.

If you're new here, treat this thread as your "Genesis".

Thank you, Tom.

[DELETED]

[DELETED]

Very good story. Unfortunately too many people fall into the same trap that Jason did and continue to stay in that trap.

Tom, that story brought me to tears, it was that moving.

Well, there were tears of laughter, anyway - striped jumpers and twerking babes wearing hockey masks? Damn.

On a serious note, that entertaining story you shared should burn an important message into the minds of new marketers...

Build your own assets.

If you're relying on a single platform all it takes is ONE change and you're a hobo!

Or at least your income will be jeopardized.

Continue sharing the good message, Tom.

Regards,
Daniel

TA

Cracker of a story though Its not me!!

Jason

Cool story Tom! I liked this one Keep 'em coming!

I have actually read the whole story.
and i liked it.

Fantastic post Tom. I am curious though with Fred being so busy does he have time for dream jumping anymore? I sure hope not.

Jason however, he could be quite upset about his recent results and I sure hope no one crosses path with him anytime soon.

Epilogue:

Finally at peace with their past, Lori and Will leave Crystal Lake together. Later, Jason emerges from the lake holding the severed head of Freddy, which winks at the audience and laughs.

Maybe Jason was smart, and took that $60,000/month and parlayed it into a different traffic generation model, expanded verticals, than the content syndication one you hint at, like PPC, and is now making 7 figures/year. Just sayin' ...

I'm not just trying to be a jackass, but the simple fact is that success with Freddy's model is LESS LIKELY FOR THE MAJORITY than is success with Jason's model.

People have a better chance of making money trying to game a system (less easy as time passes), than they do of setting up some type of Authority site that draws long term visitors of the kind that will pay your bills. If Jason were to have taken the same approach, he could have very easily fallen on his face, and made $0.06/month, even losing at least $15.00/month for hosting and hours upon hours of his life. Just sayin', again.

The chances of the average (or non-average) WF member developing a piece of content that goes viral is slim to none. The truth is, BIG money is pumped into content creation at the enterprise level, with that very goal - going viral. It is a nebulous mixture of things that makes that happen, that nobody really understands how to make happen, only hope, with of course, quality often playing a role, and quality out of the reach of the average WF user. Just sayin'.

Both of your models are based upon content syndication for generating traffic. Maybe the Original Horrorster, Norman Bates, used some of the extra Motel revenue to buy some traffic, made an even bigger authority site, focusing on both Jason's and Freddy's demographics, added a couple more, and put them both outta business, because he knew buying targeted traffic was even faster. Just an alternate ending for you.

Good story, though.

Awesome post Tom. Hopefully your message doesn't fall on deaf ears. A lot of marketers are in it for the quick cash and have no concept of truly building a business. Just look at how many "What's the quickest way to make money online" threads that pop up here.

Love the story telling as well.

Traffic --- > Domain --- > Assets --- > Monetizations
-optimized for search engines
-He integrates a newsletter

Fred earns $105,000 a month

Thank u Tom Adams


Are you craving a hot Krispy Kreme doughnut? Superhero Day: Buy any dozen, get a FREE dozen original glazed. Starts Apr. 28, 2016.

Moral of the story is to build a list and have boatloads of followers.

Basically build online assets that can bring you money again and again for the long term.

Make the most out of every marketing buck!

Bis! Bis!

Oh so cool, my friend. This is why so many of us follow you.

I'm not certain what cyberspace Christopher Fox is living in, because blog traffic goes viral every single day, and it's not just content that resides on big syndication sites.

Just the other day, a lovely friend of mine in Malaysia, Verena Ho (forum link), published a blog post that went viral, twittering madly for days. If you know what you're doing, you can make it happen regularly.

There are plenty who do make it happen regularly, otherwise there would be no trending, no trending support sites, no social media affiliate sales, no opportunity for anyone to grow, no [fill in your own list].

Remember: even the year-after-year big money makers like Seth Godin, Pat Flynn, Michael Woodward, Neil Patel, the different cooking bloggers and sports bloggers who kill it time and again, plus [go find out - research is emperor, forget king] started at the kitchen table, or in a waiting room, or in the bathroom ...

- Annie

Those are big numbers...! I wonder how many people here on WF make that kind of money... or even 1/10 of that.

Great story/lesson Tom. I still haven't received my doughnut yet. (i prefer the chocolate glazed ones from Krispy Kreme).

Awesome tom


About time someone with some knowledge did a value post!


I didn't see the word fiverr, bot or even $1000's a day mentioned anywhere!


Great!

Whether people find "your story" to be "non-fictional" or 'fictional" - I found the use of prose and poetry well balanced, and drives home a nice vehicle from which can lay some tracks on the busiest of highways!

Clearly, you focused on "volume" which screams the need for "twerking and tweaking" your traffic methods, and though I have yet to establish such a 'toll plaza' on any major exchange...

I thought your story kicked ass... and whether people choose the open "free road" -or - the "paid route" which costs more but 'may' get you there quicker...

I agree, any reliance on "leasing" the wheels of any engine belonging to or controlled by another - "is not" the most effective way to travel or reach your destination... for as with Jason, repossession of assets is not a pleasurable experience...unless your a self-professed masochist!

(*Which sadly... 98% - 99% of people globally... are indeed are "silently" self-sabotaging masochists!) - as have I been for many years! (Note: reference to gratification...not relative to the sexual definition, of course!)

Hence, the low percentage of people who reach a level of abundance in any 'field of interest' - remains in the low 1- 2 percentile.

Thus, I say this unto you, as one who has perfected such and art (self-sabotage!) ,and as one who aims to correct upon it... $100 a day gaming the system... just ain't cutting the ruts, it's a hit n' run that rarely goeth unpunished.

Certainly, owning the road your on... is a tough reality to forge, and one many cannot bring themselves to believe; others will surely travel on, pay to use, and even appreciate has gotten them to their destination safely... "if you just lay down tracks"...

Everything mentioned here reminds me of this video:

Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer - YouTube

Thanks Tom. Good Storytelling is a lost art ( and science) You came at a much needed time for there is no question we needed some of this infused into a somewhat stagnant and boring Warrior Forum


- Robert Andrew

A story worth sharing, come to show diversification is so important.

Hi Tom,

Long time i dont see your posts, they are quite good and you provide value to the community.

About this story: so many people fallen in the quick and fast money making strategies and will fall after awhile.

A few weeks ago i have visited a brazilian guy website about how to live from blogging.... Well the blog was and still is great, i have noticed two main things....

1) he only writes 1-2 posts a month highly researched that triggers the audiences. He calls them remarkable posts that offers really premium value for free, very long posts , with premium writing in terms of content and structure.

2) the goal of the blog is exclusively to capture emails from every place you may imagine....so by now he has 150k email subscribers.

Sure i know this is the way to do it, but i did not knew he was making 7 digits in a launch day and that he has 16 co-workers working with him.

When i have watched a couple interviews with this guy i quite noticed he is no fluff and he knows how to make it work.

So when we say the money is in the list its not a false claim.

This reflects everything tom has written in this Awesome story.

Continue to provide us awesome content Tom.

I will always be reading it!

Morg

Never put all your eggs in one basket, I guess

Great story...and the moral is great and vivid.

very good story bro

[DELETED]

have not fail yet but still .... the fight is on

I love debating, could do it all day long. But if you remove the financials, which I am sure Tom put in there for illustrative purposes, lets remember the true reason for the post.

Traffic --- > Domain Forwarding --- > HockeyMaskLoverDating.com

Vs

Traffic --- > Domain --- > Assets --- > Monetizations

BUILD THE ASSET

Drops the mic, leaves the stage (post)

Unless your Daddy's name is on the door (or the building is monogrammed), then the "bottom" is Executive Vice President.

Hate to break it to you, but Tom's story is "fiction". No one is claiming to make those numbers in any specific amount of time.

Applying the 80/20 rule a couple of times, ~4% of the people get ~65% of the results.

Here's a harsh truth that suggests that you might be due for a "check up from the neck up".

It seems like any time a poster suggests that it's possible to make more than pennies, you jump in to proclaim that it's not possible, and imply that the person claiming to make more is either dreaming or some kind of con artist.

You seem to have some kind of psychic ability to read someone's name and judge their work without bothering to examine it. You just "know".

Not hating on you, but for your own good, maybe it's time to follow your own number one rule?

too good to be true....

Take out the numbers Tom posted he is just throwing them in for people to pay attention. If it was $2.00 vs. $5.00 a day people would not even bother reading the post. Face it most want the dream of six figures instead of a few extra twenty's in their pocket.

Back a few years ago, there was a well know poster here that had thousands of posts and made a full time living promoting article marketing. He was living the dream but google make a few adjustments. His whole business was wiped of the face of the map. First it was losing thousands, then hundreds, finally he was making penny's and came back here crying. He was warned about building assets but choose easy profits.

Gordon a well known poster here used this guru as an example of how not to conduct business. Instead build assets that can withstand the IM storms. Would you rather build on quicksand or solid bedrock is the main point of Tom's story.

Everyday someone is trying to make money off of another company and one change of Terms of service or update can crush those people. Here is are a few examples - losing an adsense account,any google Algo update, or Amazon no longer paying affiliates in a particular state etc. Even Clickbank and Paypal can close accounts.

Tom's message is clear and like any bedtime story. the moral of the lesson is not if the story is real, but their is a message to learn in the story..

BTW good post Tom

Sat on the desk next to my laptop here is a book. Bazaar of Bad Dreams, written by my long-time pal Stephen King. I say pal, yet he and I have never met, likely never will. We came close once, though. It was '96, I believe. '95, '96, '97. Somewhere in there. Unlike my wife, possibly in fact all ladies, I lack the ability to remember precise times when something happened. I cannot, for instance, remember what I was doing on Tuesday at 3:17 a.m on June 9th of 1998. I could guess. I could guess and I could say lying in bed, reading a book, or, remembering the advice of another pal, never met him, never will, chap called William Goldman, I could take a guess intended to elicit emotion from my audience, my Constant Reader, as King would say: lying in bed, laptop cracked open on my chest, watching videos of ladies in striped jumpers "twerkin'" their "junk." Between you and I? The second guess, far more likely. My wife, though, she would know. She would remember. In fact, thinking about it, this may explain why I sported a mystery black eye throughout June of '98; that I do remember.

Anyway. S.K.

It was '95, '96, '97. It was sometime in the last twenty years; give or take a decade. What is almost nearly certain, however, is that I was not currently touching myself to striped jumper clad ladies. I was on my summer holiday from university and traveling to Bangor, Maine, making a pilgrimage you might say, in a vehicle I believe my American friends commonly use to transport mental patients with Tourette's syndome. (Greyhound, is I believe the technical term.) Looking all of ten years old as I did, looking decidedly unthreatening therefore, the old lady beside me decided I might be a rather safe target for a chat. It might have been different, of course, had WiFi been invented. Or, if it had been (no idea), at least in popular usage in mental patient transportation.

We got talking, is the point, and it soon transpired that Tom was making a pilgrimage: "I want to be a Boogeyman, Mary, which I know sounds bonkers, but hear me out.

I was fourteen and living on an island in Africa. Step-father was the director of a company setting up telecommunications throughout the region. It was a weekend and I was bored. I shared a large house with my mother, step-father, a handful of staff, and outside were two men armed with cutlesses, guarding a wall that ran the perimeter of the compound, and atop the wall, broken glass embedded into the concrete.

We had two drivers and had either one been found on that weekend I would have escaped. Bar Beach market, most likely; I'm a sucker for a good deal.

That same week our gardener Samson had caused a ruckus by diving into the pool like he was running screaming into battle. And in a way he was. Half the house dashed out onto balconies in time to see a lean African man chopping through the water like Jason Vorhees after too many espressos. He eventually emerged holding two portions of a limp and lifeless black snake, both portions as long as my sun-burned legs at the time.

So. It was a weekend. I was bored. I was trapped. And the sodding pool - out.

I picked up a book from the coffee table in the living-room. Carrie by Stephen King. The sticker price on the front informed me that some fool had paid around your equivalent of one-hundred U.S dollars for what amounted to about a hundred and twenty-four pages. If something was hard to come, you see, you had to pay. The trade-off was getting other stuff cheap. For the price of a chocolate bar back in England, for instance, I had a nice lady bring me Whiskey bottles full of salted peanuts each week; a handful of Naira got me four bottles each month, one delivered every Saturday morning. (Years later, in my thirties, I was on a bedroom floor coughing up blood, dying of a burst appendix. Were the peanuts worth it? And then some. What can I say, I like peanuts.)

So, Mary, I had Carrie. Or rather, she had me. I was captivated, is the thing, under her spell.

I sat on my bedroom balcony reading her and as I did the sun drained from the day and the night came and when I was finished, or rather, when Carrie had finished with me, I stood up and leaned over the balcony and absorbed the sights before me: a million metal and breezeblock huts glinting with a million different torches and lamps and bush meat fires and above them a million stars. It was a vista, high up on the third floor as I was, that had always seemed too big to exist. The darkness has a habit of doing that. It covers everything. Even the end of everything. And doing so, it makes the world seem bigger, bigger to the point of limitless.

Before that night, I had always known it was a trick that darkness likes to play, but that night, standing on the balcony there after saying goodbye to Carrie for the first of what would be many times, something was different. A delicious idea came to me; something I would later learn, from an English teacher back in Blighty, was called an epiphany.

The trick, you see, was on darkness. Darkness that liked to cover up ends of things and make the world seem infinite.

That night I understood something that even darkeness, old as she was, old as she is, has still yet to learn. I understood that the world really is bigger than it looks, really is, in fact, without end. Not the physical world, of course, but the world of possibilities. A twenty-four year old man, who would later become my pal, a never-to-be-met pal, had pulled a story out of his head, had tossed that story into a trash bin, had had it tossed back into his lap by his wife, Tabitha, who thought the story needed work but had merit, and that story, years later, had found an English boy struggling to fight weekend boredom on an island in Africa. And the kicker: that story had changed the boy's life. A story, born from synapses jittering through the cerebral cortex of a young teacher's brain - a young teacher, a young dirty linen washer, a young father, a young husband, a young man struggling to keep his chin above terrifying financial waters - that story, it had broke the boy down into a million particles and remade him. The world, I understood, was one of infinite possibility.

I was fourteen. I looked like a sodding girl. (During one glorious lunch back then my Mother even informed me, "You'd actually make a lovely-looking girl," after which, for reasons unknown, I spent the day devouring my step-father's collection of Chuck Norris movies.) Fourteen. Girlie. I had no interest in education and, seemingly, no facility for it, despite the best attempts of three teachers who schooled me in a classroom housed among the offices on the compound's ground floor. I had, at that point, read only a handful of books in my life. I was, let it be known, interested and good at nothing the classroom had to throw at me. If anyone, let it also be known, was destined for Screw Up, I'm pointing at myself here, it would have been fourteen year-old Tom. I had one goal in life during that summer: to one day hold an Olympic gold medal for something I would later do with the assistance of videos of ladies in striped jumpers. But that night? All of it changed. The world, I knew, was bigger than the island. Bigger, even, than Darkness understood. It was a world in which Tom could, it was possible, achieve anything he wanted. And on that night, more than anything, Tom wanted to be a Boogeyman. Correction. Tom wanted to be The Boogeyman. The Boogeyman who would take something from his mind and offer it to the world, a world of infinite possibilities: "Come closer," he would say. "I won't bite. The same, however, cannot be said of this story."

Mary. I'm heading to Bangor for good reason. I want to become a Boogeyman. Perhaps one day, The Boogeyman. And, if I'm lucky, I want to catch a glimpse of King. The man who set me straight. Sorry - the Boogeyman who set me straight."

Now, I may not have given that precise monologue to ole Mary, and may even have left out my Olympic gold medal dreams, but the nuts and bolts of what I said to Mary? All there. And her eyes, they lit up. Sparkled, even. "Tom, I know Stephen! Such a lovely boy, he is. You see him around town and he chit-chats to ya just like a real person. I stop by for tea and cake sometimes and he welcomes me right in and oh lordy can that boy chit-chat. You and I, when we get home, I'll take you to him. We'll knock right on his front door and pay Stevie a nice little visit." She punctuated "little visit" with three neat little nods of her head, as if to say, "You're dreams are about to come true, young man," and the world, a world of infinite possibilities, opened up beneath me. Not all possibilities, you see, are good ones. In the dark abyss beneath my bottom? Utter. Sodding. Terror. And, if you're not English, this may be hard to comprehend. I would guess. This was a time, remember, before Facebook and Twitter and Instagram, and in short, it was a time before one could reach out and touch, even in a virtual way, our idols, but even overlooking such modern developments in Celebrity Touching, back then, being English, we never got to see our idols in the flesh. I mean, I once got to see a Mrs. Cartwright in the flesh, an eighty-five year-old local who walked into the public library one afternoon, various parts of whom were merrily swaying to and froe as she swept over to the desk and plonked down her recent reads, but - you know - that was it. No flesh-seeing for Tom. Especially of the famous variety. And to see King? To meet King? Hopefully not in the actual flesh, but in the figurative flesh? It was too much. Being a nice boy, I smiled at the delight writ all over Mary's face - and gulped. 'Can't wait.'

As you already know, I never did meet him. I got as far as the gargoyle-festooned gate and I turned to Mary and came clean. She took it in her exuberant stride, though: "Oh, you'd love him, you'd love him, he'd love you, but I know I know, we'll tour the town, instead, youngun." And that - that's what we did. And it was a curious sensation. Curious because, and you'll know what I mean if you're a fan of King, walking around Bangor that day, in '95, '96, or '97, I was transported into one of his books. Hell, all of his books; at the time. The plastic Paul Bunyan statue. The Pet Semetary. The storm drains. At any moment, I expected Pennywise to slide out of the shadows: "Tom, old buddy, old pal, come on over here. Come on, don't be afraid. We'll have tea and cake down in this comfy old storm drain. Heck, if you like, we'll have balloons, too. They float down here, Tommy. Ohhhhhhhhh, they float. And soon - you'll float, too!" I never did see Pennywise. As we've established, I never did see King. But, and for the second time in my life, I did see the world open up. It was that grand, endless vista again, the one going by the name Infinite Possibilities. Here was a town, Bangor, and all about me - touching distance - here was evidence of Infinite Possibilities. A young man, who had grown up without a father, grown up on the bread line, had used everything God or chance or luck or whatever or whomever you believe in had given him, and had achieved - surely - what should be impossible. Simple books. Collection of words. They had changed the world. And not just his home town. Let me say again - they had changed the world.

Were this Warrior Forum post a novel, it would need two things. It would need decent sodding prose for a start; more importantly, though, it would need some dramatic symmetry. The protagonist, yours truly, would need to do something (because actions speak louder than words, even actions comprised of words in print) and that something would need to bring the story full circle. I would, for instance, in a novel, decent sodding prose, perhaps invite you to a book-signing; for a horror novel sat right at the tippy-top of the New York Times list of Bestsellers. "Tom, " the closing lines would begin, "walked out of the Beverly Hills Wilshire with his pals from Warrior Forum, and tired though he was, from signing all those books, gave Randall a grin and a nod; Randall, no stranger to great ideas, had had a doozy: 'Tom, what say we head up to Bangor? You're famous now. I reckon you let King meet you in the flesh.' Tom whipped off his shirt and pants and batman undies, and in only his socks, marched off to the Buick. 'King - I hope you like sausage with ya tea and cake!'"

This is not a novel.

Somewhere along the line, after deciding to be a Boogeman, sorry, The Boogeyman, life happened. Life, it has a habit of doing that. And fact is: we gots to have money for life. Wife. Daughters. An insatiable desire for doughnuts. They all need this: I'm rubbing my fingers together in either the universal gesture for money or the universal gesture for "I'm warming myself up for watching videos of ladies in striped jumpers," but in this case I mean the former. Dosh, as we Brits say. Gots to have it. And you can get it from being a Boogeyman, certainly, you don't even need to be The Boogeyman, but, like my mother used to tell me, when not telling me I'd make a good-looking girl, "All good things come to those who wait - and work for it." Smart woman. (Aren't they all?) Still, I plug away at being your Boogeyman - no point you looking; use a different name - but, while plugging away, you need to pay to play. And life, the universal arcade machine, she's hungry for those coins, oh yes she is, and she'll eat eat eat until flashing GAME OVER.

Just like Carrie, I found internet marketing; and, just like Carrie, closer to the truth - internet marketing found me. I was a different person when she did. I had, for instance, long-since dropped the ambition of getting that Olympic gold medal; after Africa, I'd grown up in boys' boarding schools, not a woman in sight, well, not a hot one in a striped jumper, and honestly? If a dream is too easy to attain - man, you lose interest. After Carrie? I'd found books. Lot's of 'em. When internet marketing found me, I was no longer the kid futilely floundering around in classrooms, no no; you threw something at me in a classroom, I caught the bugger, ate it up (memories of being a Boogeyman), digested the bugger. I was hungry, for knowledge, for everything. And IM? The perfect career. Here - by God - was something that - get this - paid me for sitting on my can at home and - low and sodding behold - earn arcade coins for eating-up knowledge and digesting knowledge and using that knowledge. Was the world off its bleeding rocker, I ask ya? Surely, but screw it: sometimes in life, you just go with the flow. (And I'm sure Pennywise would agree.)

I had good reason for writing the original post to this thread, and I had to fight for you to see it.

It was a sleepy Saturday morning yesterday, the girls still fast sleep, and here was I, waking up, still seeing double, sucking down a coffee, wondering what the hell to do first: work, read, those videos, come on, Tom, day's a-wasting, warm up those hands, man, for one or the other! I decided on the first two - WF - and I noticed a thread in which a fellow Warrior was asking for advice on his current business model; a model that involved his using no website, simply spreading affiliate links to the four corners. A bad model, I'm sure - on that at least - all of us can agree. In response to his thread, I began writing a post within his thread, and as it developed, I had one of those old epiphanies: this may be a good lesson for every newcomer to read. Lesson - being the key word. The business models and figures I mention simply flew through the fingers like meat cleavers - in another life - and were by no means intended as the subject of the post. The subject was the lesson; and a simple one, at that. Lesson: in IM, as in life, there exists infinite possibilities, both good and bad, and the bad ones, brought to us, if you like, by The Grim Reaper, the Bringer of Gone, the Architect of End, can spell the end for you business. Unless. Unless, you're clever. Like Fred. Does Fred fear The Grim Reaper that is Google Change? Never. How about any other form of change? Double never. Not Fred, no no. ASSETS. Tell you what, I know a thing or two about The Grim Reaper. Tell you something: he will always win, something else we can agree on, but - and here's the kicker - sand, we are, no argument from me, but when you put a lot of sand together, even The Grim will find it harder to mold. Fred is sand. His business is sand. You build one hell of a sand dune? That bugger will not move easy. And that there? Your Assets. Subscribers. Members. Followers. ASSETS.

Google, you reading this, old buddy, old pal? Come on, don't be afraid, come closer. That's right, right up to Tom, just close enough, that's right, for Tom to whisper, and maybe give you a little kiss after. Are you listening, Google, old buddy, old pal?

'I win.'

Kiss.

A Warrior Forum moderator, in their wisdom, deemed my original post more fitting for Mind Warriors as opposed Main. I disagreed. Got it plonked back. And, like I say, for good reason. The lesson, a piece of rudimentary knowledge, for even those among us who are relatively new to eating whatever IM decides to serve, but - to the very newest diners in this vicinity? Not so to them. The lesson, to them, this lesson - it's a new dish. And I believe, a meal every last one of them deserves to dine on. Think about that. Think about what Screw Up means to a man or a woman on this forum. Does it mean his family will go hungry? Lose their home? A wife unable to receive medication?

The Grim - how he loves those things. I have no doubt The Grim will beat me.

But not yesterday.

Not today.

So, Infinite Possibilities. I truly never intended to be so expansive, when writing the original post, nor this one, but sometimes - yep - you go with the flow. And this particular flow leads us to The Grim Reaper. The Grim? Oh, he'll get you soon. He always does. The Architect of End will not come talking about Google or social networks or terms of service. Not this time. The Bringer of Gone will come talking about You. And when he does? When he takes you? Will you go content, content that you lived a life worth living, content that you did all you could do in life, in your business life, in your personal life, in your bid to eat 874 doughnuts in one sitting, or will it be with regret? My advice, the reason for the ramble - give those Infinite Possibilities a shot. And never listen to any clown that tries to discourage you. They do that, clowns; clowns in drain pipes, clowns in threads. I'm still trying, in IM, in publishing, in everything else, and I'll get there. What about you? Will you scream when you see The Grim one last time, or will you whisper to him:

Grim, come closer, old buddy, old pal. Come on, don't be afraid, come closer. That's right, right up close, just close enough, that's right, for me to whisper, and maybe give you a little kiss after. Are you listening, Grim, old buddy, old pal?

'I win.'

Kiss.

- Tom

I have always believed that having a successful business (and life) was all about the journey rather than the destination.

Steve

Do you do ghostwriting Tom?

I do, Zodiax, but King has me booked solid until 2020. I know a chap, though. He isn't taking clients just now but I'll get you a good deal when he is. I'll throw you a message.

I'm off, gang. I won't be around in the week - busy as hell - but I appreciate your indulgence over the weekend. It was a blast. Far more fun than the writing, though, which is never a delightful task (I don't like to write, I like to have written), was reading your replies. And, yes, even the chaps who disagreed; they made some very good points.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend! Build those sand dunes!

- Tom

Tom, that's a great story and as people have said, a great way to sum up the lesson a lot of us have learned. I wish I had seen this years ago when I started but I'm now building my list and it feels right.

Aren't you the same fellow who recently claimed that if a business doesn't make "good money" within 2 years then it's a hobby?

So why are you harking about realism?

Especially since you have such an inflated idea of how quickly you should be making "good money"?




This isn't a "positive" story.

It's a humorous one meant to highlight why you need to build your own assets.

I mean, come on...

Of course the numbers are unrealistic, do you even think that there's a huge market for hockey mask wearing singles?

Obviously not, so the fact that the numbers are that high should be the least of your concern when it comes to realism.

The whole point of Tom's post flew straight over your head and you're nitpicking about the earning potential in a FICTIONAL market and example?

Really?

I swear, some people wouldn't understand satire if it danced naked in front of them (even after using that willy enlargement pump).

Regards,
Daniel

P.S. SCrafted, I have nothing against you and I get why you're concerned with the numbers... but it's just a funny story, no realistic numbers required.

so what is the best approach for us all in 2016 an above ?

[DELETED]

Great story

If only more people can identify with the characters in the story. If I were Jason making $63000 a month and the grim reaper came after 2 years. I would not be that worried because I would have saved up at least a million dollars. Whereas if I were making $5000-10,000 a month, I would be much more worried.

Good demonstration on how to setup and monetize website with a bit of seo strategy. I do a lot like Jason and always ends up a failure. Thanks for the info.

Very cool! Nice comparison. Thanks!

[DELETED]

[DELETED]

My most important question: Is this story true or just the "content building"-idea dressed in a nice story.

great story here

[DELETED]