I’d be a millionaire by now if only I was comfortable with cheating people.
You’d be surprised how many people do it as if that’s the only way to earn money. And, apparently it’s easy. My big problem right now is that I have to survive until my big money comes in. I could put together some piece of why-did-you-bother product and on the strength of my name alone, sell about one hundred of them. A hundred, even at thirty bucks would get me through the month. No luxuries but I’d eat and sleep just fine.
I can’t do it. One part of me whispers “you are a worthless punk. People are happy to give you their money. If you’re weren’t such a fucking perfectionist, we’d be rich. You disgust me.”
It’s a very small part but I have to admit that it’s there. The rest of me will not let me sacrifice my integrity and my reputation by releasing an okay product.
And that’s really not the big part of the confessional. Because it’s not like I play fair out of some sense of being noble and true to my fellow mankind. It’s two things.
First, my ego can’t take a refund request, not an genuine one. I’m okay with the people who are frauds and are just going to hustle you out of your product. Whatever. You get used to it and factor it into the cost of doing business, the same way that I expect Walmart factors in shoplifting.
But someone writing me that my book, ebook, video, audio series was crap? Can’t take it.
Second, I don’t know the value of my own ideas half the time. I think of products every day and shoot them down in the same breath. I tend to think that every single idea I’ve ever had stinks, apart from about one percent of them. That one percent though, I think of as brilliant, and that one percent I can make a fortune on.
Of course I have no control over when these ideas come. And therein lies the start of the starve/gorge cycle.