Today is the official launch day for Offers To Launch — but this didn’t start with a sales page. It started with a poll inside my freemium community, Next Level Creator Hub. Here’s the exact question I asked: 👉 “When it comes to building a profitable Skool community, what’s your biggest challenge right now?” I didn’t guess what to build. I didn’t assume. I didn’t build in isolation. I built the offer around the pain point that got the most votes. Then I built it publicly — in real time — so members could see the structure coming together. That transparency built: • Clarity • Excitement • Buy-in • Momentum Before doors officially opened, 17 people had already pre-purchased. Today we welcomed in 21 founding members. Only 4 spots were gifted to Premium and high-ticket clients.Everyone else paid before launch day. This worked because: ✔ I’ve normalized selling inside my community ✔ I’ve launched 7 times in 6 months on Skool (5 resulted in sales) ✔ I involve members early ✔ I use a proven pre-sale structure Selling works when people feel involved in the process,when they feel heard,and when you’ve already proven you’re trustworthy through action — not hype. There’s no mystery. It’s clarity + consistency + execution. This is what I teach inside Offers To Launch. Right now it’s $97 one-time - Join here. Price increases to $197 on March 14th. It’s also a paid public community, so you can peek inside and see real discussion happening. And if you’re not launch-ready yet, I created a free course — Phase 1: Getting Launch Ready — to help you prepare. If you want to take the mystery out of launching, this is your season. Let’s go 🚀

There once was a man who never introduced himself the same way twice. In one town he was The Success Story. In another he was The Failure Who Almost Made It. At church he was The Strong One. At work he was The Closer. At home he was The Quiet One. But none of those names were his. They were borrowed. He collected them the way other men collect jackets — putting one on depending on the weather of the room. When people praised him, he wore “Gifted.” When they criticized him, he wore “Not Enough.” When he compared himself, he wore “Behind.” When he tried to prove himself, he wore “I’ll Show You.” The problem with borrowed names is this: They never quite fit. They itch. They weigh heavy. They require constant adjustment. And the worst part? You start to forget what your real name sounds like. One day, while walking through a crowded marketplace of opinions, the man passed an old mirror seller. The seller called out, “Sir — you’ve dropped something.” The man turned. “I haven’t dropped anything.” The old seller smiled. “You dropped your name.” He handed him a small, cracked mirror. “Look.” The man resisted. He had grown comfortable adjusting to reflections others gave him. But he leaned in anyway. And for the first time, he didn’t see a title. He didn’t see a performance. He didn’t see applause or shame. He saw a man — unfinished, imperfect, but solid. A man who didn’t need to impress. A man who didn’t need to hide. A man who didn’t need a new name every season. Underneath all the borrowed labels… was the name he had been given before he ever earned anything. He took off “Successful.” He folded up “Failure.” He laid down “Strong.” He released “Disappointment. He tore up “Comparison.” And he walked away wearing only one name: His own. People were confused. “You’ve changed,” they said. He shook his head. “No. I’ve stopped borrowing.” And for the first time in his life, he didn’t adjust himself to the room. The room adjusted to him. 🤔 How many names are you still wearing that were never yours?