Wow.

I was so caught up in my process and feelings and stuff like that around launching and announcing At The Kitchen Table With Havi and Selma (aka my Next Big Thing), that I honestly wasn’t prepared for the flood of questions, comments and critique.

I’m still answering a lot of it, but in the meantime ….

Here’s some email writing advice.

First … a peek into my inbox.

A bunch of people wrote in saying things like this:

“Ohmygod! This seems like the most amazing thing in the entire world and if I could afford it right now I would jump on it in a second.

I’m saving pennies and the second I can make it in, I will be there with you if you and Selma will have me! But it might take a really long time!”

Those people got taken care of right away.

One of my assistants set up a special option where they could pay with six automatic monthly payments. My other assistant wrote them a sweet note. All better. Not a problem.

Another bunch of people wrote in saying things like this:

“This program is too expensive.”

And this:

“Just wanted to send you a note on my reaction to the pricing for your new community project. I am usually the first person to jump on a well-constructed useful-looking bandwagon, and financially my family is doing okay — not great, but okay. I also understand that you’re pricing access at a little more than a dollar a day; many people pay 4 or 5 times that for a daily latte, so intellectually I understand it’s an affordable rate. But I wanted to tell you that my knee-jerk reaction is that the entry price is pretty high.”

The shortest answer?

If you think this program is too expensive, it’s probably not for you.

How about the medium-to-long-ish answer?

There are so many ways that I could answer this.

And I have to admit, there’s a huge part of me that’s tempted to link to a bunch of programs that cost seven or eight times as much, have way less content and are generally less impressive in every way.

That part of me really wants to talk about what it is that makes this program more valuable than anything I’ve ever done.

But that would be taking my energy away from the true answer.

Alright. The true answer.

This program is something I put together for my Right People. For the ones who come here every single morning. The ones who re-read old posts.

The ones who are applying — or trying to — everything I teach and can’t wait to take it deeper.

The ones who get it.

Judging by the fact that I got THIRTY applications to join my expensive, hard-to-get-into program in the first few hours after I announced it, it looks like my Right People got it.

That’s resonance.

Resonance? If you’re a regular reader or a doing-a-jig fan or took the Non-Icky Self-Promotion course, you’ve probably read my post on the art and science of pricing.

That’s where I talk about the awesomeness that is Pricing Resonance, something I learned about from Mark Silver.

What this means is that for every single product or service I put out into the world, I do a deep meditation where I sit with my heart and give attention to what it is that I’m giving.

And then the Right Price emerges from that meditation. It’s the price that my heart knows is right. And the people my offering is intended for feel the resonance and they know it’s right too.

I’ve done this exercise with many, many clients and students, and even people who aren’t remotely tree-hugging yoga teachers like me have experienced — in a visceral full-body-tingle way — how resonance works.

My point: If something I’m offering is not resonant for you, either I haven’t explained it well or — more likely — you’re not the person it’s intended for.

But shouldn’t I have done a better job of explaining it?

No.

In general, yes. In general, if you want lots of people to buy your stuff, your copy has to do a pretty fantastic job of explaining the benefits and meeting objections. But this isn’t a case of me wanting lots of people.

If I haven’t thoroughly explained this offer, it’s because I don’t want to … or need to.

Now let me explain that.

I don’t want to convince you that spending time with me and my duck would be the best thing to ever happen to you. That’s why I didn’t try to write copy for this thing.

If you aren’t already getting over-the-top turning-cartwheels excited by the possibility of what could happen in a warm, cozy, structured environment where I teach everything I know, I probably don’t want you at the Table.

Convincing you would be a mistake. It would bring in people who aren’t necessarily my Right People.

It’s always about your Right People.

You know about the Thousand True Fans concept, right?

Well, like many people who are doing this running-an-online-business thing in an intelligent, measured, intentional way, I’m most interested in hanging out with them.

I’ll still be here every day, writing, being a touchstone for those who need me … but my main focus is shining a light for my Right People.

Those thirty people who showed up in the first few hours? True fans.

The ones who are saving pennies to hang out with my duck because they know that what they will learn will help them destuckify old patterns and get them to the point that they feel safe and comfortable putting their work out into the world?

True fans.

I know who they are now. And I’m planning on loving them up and treating them right.

Here’s how you know if you’re one of my Right People.

You can skip this paragraph. You probably already know.

Here’s how you know if you’re not one of my Right People.

  • You’ve read my Is This You? page and don’t identify with anything I’m talking about.
  • You’ve read my About page and immediately wrote to tell me that I should talk more about Jesus on my blog or that I shouldn’t joke about Pastafarianism or that I mis-spelled my least favorite word in the entire world.
  • You’re someone who jumps on bandwagons.
  • When you read my posts you think “Hmm, interesting” instead of wanting to laugh, cry and dance a jig because you’re so relieved that someone else is out there, working on her personal, goofball figuring-out-her-stuff process and sharing it with you in a useful way.
  • The stuff I do — and what it costs — just doesn’t feel resonant to you.
  • You’re someone who says “it’s too expensive” instead of “I can’t afford it” or — what I would say — “I choose not to right now because I’m making other choices.”

And you know, in your heart, that this is not your right place.

Which is absolutely fine.

It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t have to be one of Right People.

Honestly. It’s not a bad thing that you’re not one of my Right People.

It doesn’t mean that I can’t like you or that you have to stop liking me. It just means that you’re someone else’s Right Person, not mine.

Selma and I are not going to be the right fit for most people, and we know that. And if it turns out that you and I are not the right fit for each other, that’s really okay.

What have we learned today about how to write email, kids?

You tell me.

I’ll leave you with this.

It’s from one of my Right People.

I’ve had so many allergic reactions to the usual marketing approach that,
aside from feeling the need to shower in an effort to remove the sliminess, I virtually swore off of it.

It honestly wasn’t until I ran into you that I had any idea that marketing could be done in an honest, clear, heart-centered way and that it was even possible to enjoy success with no sleaze factor at all.

It was one of those light-shines-down-from-the-heavens-and-the-angels-sing moments for me. Seriously.

Now I’m looking at marketing with a spirit of inquiry. I feel like an intrepid adventurer that’s just landed on the alien albeit beautiful planet called Marketopolis.

I want to study every facet of this strange creature, get to know its inner workings and take home some mysterious jewels from its soils so that I can enjoy greater success in my own work.

If you could let me know how long the wait is to work with you, I’d dig you like an old soul record.

Long Live The Duck!

That’s the kind of person Selma and I will be hanging out with at the Kitchen Table, and you know what? I seriously could not be happier about it.

The Fluent Self