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Every issue of this newsletter gives you the exact systems, strategies, and principles I’ve used to generate 8 figures (almost entirely) with email marketing. So you can build your own systems that will carry you through the next algorithm change or recession. This is what actually works.

About a year into my internet marketing career, I gave up.

I shut the whole thing down and went back to a full-time job, convinced I'd wasted twelve months chasing a fantasy.

By that point, I was working ten to twelve hours a day. My computer lived in my bedroom, and so did I. I ate next to it. I slept next to it. I woke up and got straight back on it. I barely left the house. I had one goal in the entire world, and that was to make this business pay me something.

It paid me almost nothing.

I was chasing every shiny object that floated across my screen. Posting on social media. Blogging for hours. Watching motivational videos at night to keep myself from cracking, reading The Secret and Bob Proctor and Norman Vincent Peale, trying to manufacture belief I had no real reason to feel. I worked like a maniac and saw nothing for it, and I thought about quitting every single day until the day I finally did.

So I went back to the workforce. And the workforce reminded me, fast, exactly why I'd left it.

Someone else decided when I showed up and when I went home. A Saturday morning phone call from my boss meant I was working that Saturday, my own plans be damned, and somehow I never felt like I was allowed to say no. The thing that finally broke me was a full month of twelve-hour days, six days a week. I put in all that overtime certain I'd see double on my paycheck.

When the money came, after the taxes and the health deduction and the pension and all the rest, I was up about thirty percent. That was it. I'd practically been living inside that hotel, and thirty percent was the whole reward.

I held that pay stub and wanted to cry. I felt cheated, plain and simple.

Before we go any further…

Andrew Lock was a keynote speaker and TV producer with 25 years in the business when Covid canceled every booking he had.

With nothing but time on his hands, he went looking for a way to make his savings work harder than the half percent his bank was paying him.

What he found had nothing to do with guessing which coin would go up next. Every time someone swaps one currency for another on certain platforms, a small fee gets collected.

Andrew figured out how to sit on the receiving end of those fees, getting paid from transaction activity whether markets were going up, down, or completely flat.

He woke up to $8.47 the morning after his first setup. Then it happened again the next day and the next. He's personally averaged around 52% in gains per year - 

And now he’s showing other people how it’s done.

Three of his students are in their 80s and none of them had any crypto experience before they started.

This Thursday at 2pm EST, Andrew is hosting a free live training showing you exactly how this works.

Now, as I was saying…

What unsettled me even more was everyone around me. They never complained. They all made roughly the same money, the managers a little more, and they seemed perfectly content to spend the next twenty years right there. Some of them were practically living on site. And I remember thinking, with total clarity, that there was no way on earth I was doing this until I was old.

So I crawled back to my business. This time, I didn't care if it took me three years or ten. The job had shown me the alternative in high definition, and the alternative was unacceptable.

Here's the part nobody warns you about when you start.

That feeling, the one screaming at you to walk away, doesn't disappear when the money shows up.

I've tracked my students for years, especially the ones who made it big. And I stumbled onto a statistic that still stuns me. Close to half of my successful students eventually quit. They started something else or went back to a job, after they had made real money, after they had become their own boss. The success was real, and it still didn't hold them in place.

Walk down the main street of your own city and talk to the business owners. Most of them are quietly sick of the thing they built. For years, I drank at a Belgian beer bar called Moussa, the most popular spot for a hundred miles, packed every night of the week. I once asked the owner what it was like to run the place. He told me he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, and that whenever somebody asks him about opening a restaurant, he does everything in his power to talk them out of it.

Talk to a doctor, and you'll hear how badly they want to retire. Talk to a consultant, and you'll hear how much they resent their clients. There was a man in the Genius Network with me pulling a million dollars a year producing events for stars like Bruno Mars, and the moment he heard what I did, he started grilling me about it. He wanted a way out. A guy with a beautiful business and a beautiful income, quietly hunting for the exit.

So why does this keep happening?

For a long time, I wrote it off as human nature. We're terrible at appreciating what we have, and we only ever learn the true value of something in the rearview mirror. Mike Dillard built Magnetic Sponsoring into a seven-figure brand, then poured his savings into a hydroponics company and watched it sink. Afterward, he said something that stuck with me for good: in the information business, we have it so easy we don't even understand it. He could only see it clearly once he'd stepped outside of it.

There's something underneath the gratitude problem, though, and it took me years to put my finger on it.

The urge to quit comes from one place, and money has nothing to do with it. As the owner, every decision lands squarely on your shoulders. Every direction. Every result. Every problem that walks through the door is yours to carry. That responsibility never clocks out, and it presses down on you just as hard when you're making millions as it did when you were making zero.

That weight is the price of freedom. It's the thing we sign up for the moment we decide we want to call our own shots.

So yes, I've wanted to quit. More times than I can count. I still feel it creeping in on the heavy weeks.

And the rule I've lived by through all of it is simple.

It's okay to want to quit.

It's not okay to quit.

P.S. Want to know why I care so much about emails? I broke it down on this podcast episode. Listen, and you'll see why it should matter to you, too.