My Most Successful Launch Should Have Been a Flop
Last week I shared that I launched in less-than-ideal conditions. I was on holiday, checked out, with zero plan and no clue where my energy was at (I was deep in my luteal phase, doubting my entire existence and wanting to pull the plug on just about everything, same as every month).
When the first few sales came in, I panicked a little.
I have the fear of inadequacy (gene keys: gate 48, in my life’s purpose), which meant my immediate thought was “wait, let me go in and do more, fix that, dive deep there”.
I was on holiday, so I couldn’t do that, and the messages that flooded in told me I didn’t actually need to, but my point was that I wasn’t even perfectly regulated. I wasn’t non-attached, or whatever we are told to be by the laws of attraction.
I also didn’t create a lead magnet, build a funnel or set up a sellable system to lure people in (I actually forgot to leave a link in a place you could find it, a follower had to chase me for it - that has to be the opposite of launch 101, right?).
And yet, I ended the sale almost tripling my target and achieving the highest “stats” I had in years.
Which is cool, but the thing I feel most excited about is the sheer relief I felt from the launch.
I’ve been afraid of launching for quite a while now.
I’ve had many successful launches in my business and I’ve helped clients through many of their own, too. On paper, I know I’m pretty good at it, but that doesn’t paint the full picture.
Because more often than not, behind the scenes of every launch, I would oscillate between exhausted and a nervous wreck, constantly refreshing my phone, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
There were many times when I reached the finish line, you know the part where the work actually begins, just about ready to throw the towel in.
I loved the work, but the ways of sharing it had drained the life out of me until I had barely anything left to give to it.
I was so afraid of a launch flopping that I followed the strategies to a T, hoping that if I could just do it right, nothing could go wrong.
It did go wrong many times, because the strategy only offers the illusion of safety.
A safety I released the reins on this time.
I truly believe we are in a different era in business (one I’ve been talking about on my Podcast for the past year).
One where, finally, the prescribed ways of building are falling to the wayside.
We can kiss goodbye to perfectly timed launches, shiny sales pages with very little substance and the constant performance on a stage we have no business being on.
I know I sound like a broken record with this by now, but despite consistently selling out my 1:2:1 from Pinterest throughout last year, I didn’t have enough meaty evidence to really sink my teeth into.
I do now.
Because what matters, what has always mattered, is not how well we orchestrate the perfect launch in the perfect conditions with perfect regulation and a perfect positive mindset.
It’s believing in what we do and embodying it so deeply that every time we share it, that sentiment carries through our expressions.
It’s finding ways of sharing about our work that don’t make us want to bang our head against the wall, or be a slave to an algorithm that no one understands.
It’s connecting to the core of who your work serves, trusting you already know how to converse with these people, without needing client avatars or formulas to figure them out.
I’m not telling you I had a successful launch so I can sell you how you can do the same.
I don’t think “hit publish with your eyes closed, doubt the work as soon as someone buys it, galavant around Copenhagen, go offline and post on a whim whenever you fancy” is something I can package into a course, or promise will work.
In theory, it shouldn’t have.
And that’s the whole damn point.
Finally, what’s worked isn’t working and what we were told would flop is flying.
Because the world is ready for real. Or, maybe it always has been, but just didn’t recognise it. It does now.
You caring deeply about your work matters more than how well you construct the marketing of it.
You feeling inspired matters more than a good hook, or a scheduled plan.
You knowing you’ve captured what you do in a way people can see themselves inside of matters more than how many times a week you show up to share about it.
THANK FUCK.
I wrote a whole essay on this on Substack because I'm not sure if you can tell, but I'm pretty fired up about it.
