Here's the book. All three formats.

Thirteen chapters, about an hour. Take whichever one you'll actually open tonight.

All three are in your inbox as well.

Two sets of instructions for the thing you just downloaded.

People land on this page from both sides of the same problem, so I'll give you both and you can take whichever one is yours.

If you're the one with the budget

Read chapter thirteen, then twelve. Then ask one question on your next hiring call.

Two sittings, fifteen minutes, and then you've got something to use on Monday. Before the samples, before the references, before you get anywhere near rates — ask this:

“What's the last thing you ran with your own money, and what happened to it?”

A real answer arrives in seconds and it's specific. A market, a number, something that went wrong, handed over before you've asked for it.

The dodge sounds perfectly reasonable.

A client result they can't give you the details of. A course they completed. A smooth turn back to your business and how excited they are to get started.

Ask it first, every time, and most of what you've been risking for years walks out of the room with the people who can't answer it.

If you're the one who writes

Go back and read that again. Slowly.

That isn't a thought experiment and it isn't a chapter summary. It's an instruction, and I just handed it to every person you've been trying to get a meeting with.

Which means three things are now true, whether you close this page or not.

One. The question is coming. Not from everybody, not this week, but from the good ones first, because the good ones read.

Two. You don't have an answer. Not a weak one — none. Everything you'd normally reach for on that call is a sample, a certificate or somebody else's result, and all three of them are what the question was built to get past.

Three. Nothing you were planning to do this month produces one. More study doesn't. A better folder doesn't. Another round of outreach doesn't.

There's exactly one way to be able to answer it, and it's the thing the question is literally asking about.

◆

Sit with that for a second.

Founders have been downloading this book all week. More copywriters got their hands on it in the last seven days than in the entire run before it.

All of them reading the same thirteen chapters.

All of them walking away with the same instruction.

Which means somewhere between now and your next good call, a question you can't answer becomes a question you get asked. Then it becomes a question everybody asks. Then it stops being a question at all and turns into the thing people assume you've got, the way they assume you can spell.

A bar just went up. And for anybody who can't clear it, that bar is a ceiling.

You can't un-ring it either. The book is free, it's staying free, and I built the thing to travel. It's in inboxes right now on both sides of the table.

The good news is that being able to answer it is cheap, boring and fast.

Fifty dollars and a weekend. I'd just not sit on it, because the people reading this alongside you are going to spend their Saturday doing exactly that.

Already know what you want to do about it?

Skip the rest of this and go set your weekend up.

Take me to it Under two twenty-dollar bills · one payment

Now flip it over.

The copywriter who can answer that question walks into the same call and the whole thing changes shape. He's not auditioning. He's comparing notes with somebody who does what he does, at a different scale.

Nobody else in that inbox can do it. Nobody is teaching it.

I checked, because for nineteen years I assumed everybody operated this way and it turns out almost nobody does.

I only worked out it was an advantage when I started handing it to people and watched what it did to them.

That's the part I didn't see coming. It isn't a technique. It rearranges how somebody holds themselves in a room.

The same question does two completely different things.

Without it

The question ends your call.

Everything you'd normally reach for is a sample, a certificate or somebody else's result, and all three are what the question was built to get past. He's polite about it. They always are.

With it

The question ends everybody else's.

You answer in about forty seconds, with a market, a number and something that went wrong. Nobody else in that inbox can say it, because saying it means having done it.

Same question. Same week. It's either the thing that costs you the client, or the reason you get him.

I lived with this advantage for twenty years and never knew it had a name.

I only worked it out after I shut everything down in 2024 — clients, accounts, funnels, positions, the lot — and spent a year with AI trying to find out what was about to happen to this career.

Turns out clients were never paying for words. They were paying for certainty.

Then two apprentices turned up and started doing it my way. Watching what it did to them inside a few weeks is what turned a habit into something I could hand over.

So I recorded the whole thing, end to end, the way I'd do it if I were starting again this morning.

It takes a weekend. Not a coaching program, not a cohort, not ninety days of modules you'll abandon by the third one.

Joshua Killingsworth

Direct response copywriter

2007

Started before the shift this book describes

4 years

Writing inside ClickFunnels under somebody else's name

20 years

With something of my own running in every one of them

All of this came out of five-page content sites nobody was watching.

Little sites making money off my own writing before a single client ever asked me to do it for them.

I never stopped.

Every wild idea I've ever had got tested in one of those first, away from anybody's eyes — and the ones that worked got cleaned up and used on client accounts, who then told their friends about the man with the unusual ideas.

It's a bit of a racket.

It's also the engine under the whole career, and I'm now fairly sure I'm the only one running it, which is the strangest thing I've worked out this decade.

Clients are reading the book. Copywriters are reading the book.

And I'm stood behind the desk pointing at the page so my apprentices can take the torch and carry it on.

Took me a weekend to set up the first one. It's taken me twenty years to work out it was the whole advantage — and you can have yours running by Sunday.

Phase One · Practice In Your Playground

You sit down Saturday with nothing. Sunday night it's live, it's running, and it's yours.

Ten sittings, a worksheet on each one. You're not watching me talk about this — I build a real campaign on screen, start to finish, while you build yours next to me, the dead ends included and what I did about them.

Saturday

A couple of hours

Sunday

A couple more, and it's live

Monday morning

Data

Monday afternoon

Something to say about it

You stop measuring yourself against a clock that was never real.

What you're building, what counts as live, and what to ignore while you're in here.

You know exactly who you're talking to, in their words.

Built out of what they're already saying in public, which is where every line you write after this comes from.

You have a page that gives a stranger a reason to hand over an email.

Headline, promise and ask, written live for your offer while I write mine.

You've written the first long piece of your life that somebody reads on purpose.

Lead, body, objections in the order they arrive, close — for a product you didn't have to build or support.

You find out what happens in somebody's head after they don't buy.

One email per objection, on your own list, where nobody gets hurt and nobody's budget is on the line.

You stop staring at a blank box and start working from a list of things you know.

Intention before output, and how one afternoon of decisions becomes a month of things to say.

Your page is on the internet with your name on it.

Built, laid out and published, including the design nobody ever bothers to teach a copywriter.

Somebody opts in while you're asleep and the thing talks to them without you.

Sequence loaded, triggers firing, delays and tags set the way they should be.

The excuse that's held you up for a year stops being available to you.

Domains, pixels, links, deliverability — the stuff that stops people two feet from the line, wrestled down on camera.

A number lands on your dashboard that nobody handed you and nobody can argue with.

Turning it on. Where the people come from, what it costs, which numbers matter and what each means when it moves.

Next weekend, when that email arrives, you're dancing on the actual floor instead of begging for a seat at the circus.

But what about…

Everything running through your head right now, and the thing I built to kill it.

I wouldn't know what to build it on.

Nobody does. This is where people lose months, and then quietly decide they'll come back to it.

In the priceWhich Playground — a prompt that interviews you about your own spending history and hands back the market that was already in it, the five places those buyers gather, and the five things they complain about. Twenty minutes.

I'm a writer, not a designer. My pages look like templates.

They do. And Saturday afternoon is where that turns into an hour of nudging a button two pixels left.

In the priceThe Page Kit — my actual page blocks, the same ones this page is built from, pasted straight in. Twenty minutes instead of an afternoon.

What if I turn it on and the numbers mean nothing to me?

Four things can come back off fifty dollars, and three of them look like failure to somebody reading them for the first time.

In the priceThe First Fifty Dollars — the prompt that builds the campaign and won't let you ship a weak opening, the prompt that reads the numbers back to you on day four, and the four outcomes written out so you can read any account anybody ever hands you.

I don't have a free weekend.

Four sittings of about an hour. Two Saturday, two Sunday. It's built that way on purpose. What it won't survive is being bought and left alone for six weeks, which is what happened to the last four things you bought.

What you've got by Sunday night

Every one of these is something a client pays a copywriter for. By Monday they're all yours, and they all belong to the same answer.

What comes out of the weekend

A market you chose and pressure-tested

The thing people lose three months to, settled before lunch on Saturday.

A customer document in their words, not yours

Built from what they're already saying in public, which is where every line you write after this comes from.

A landing page, a sales page and a nurture sequence

Written live while I write mine. Yours, for an offer you didn't have to build or support.

A month of content decided in one afternoon

Intention before output, so you stop staring at a blank box on Tuesday nights.

The whole thing built, published and wired up

Pages laid out, sequence triggered, domains and pixels and deliverability wrestled down on camera.

Traffic running, and the numbers read back to you

Which ones matter, what each means when it moves, and the one thing to change next.

The cycle written up while you still remember it

The angle, the spend, what broke, what you changed, what it did. Written Sunday night, because inside a week you'll have lost the details and the details are the whole value.

All of which exists to produce one sentence, said out loud, on a call you haven't had yet.

And here's all it takes to get there

The Playground Build

Ten sittings, worksheet on every one, the whole campaign on screen start to finish. Owned outright, not rented.

$29 on its own

Which Playground

The prompt that pulls a market out of your own spending history, so Saturday morning doesn't become March.

Never been sold

The First Fifty Dollars

Two prompts. One makes you write the campaign and refuses to let you ship a weak opening. The other reads what came back on day four and gives you one change, not a list.

Never been sold

The Page Kit

My page blocks, pasted straight into yours. The same ones you're looking at right now.

Never been sold

Four things, one weekend, and you walk into every conversation after it with something nobody else in that inbox has.

My own rates are published in public — twelve and a half to twenty-five thousand a project. I charge copywriters thirty-five thousand a year to coach them through this personally.

This is the same thing I did to myself in 2007 over one weekend, recorded end to end and handed over whole.

It costs less than two twenty-dollar bills.

Show me the exact number

It will never be easier to get this than it is right now.

The book went out on October 3rd. It's been downloaded — times since, and it's free, so that number only goes one way.

Every writer who reads it and clears the bar makes the bar a little less rare.

Every owner who gets to the back half starts asking the question on his next call, and keeps asking it for the rest of his career.

Today you'd be clearing a standard almost nobody is checking for. A year from now you'll be clearing one everybody's checking for, standing next to everybody else who read the same book and did something about it.

Same weekend either way. Worth a great deal more this one than the next.

The Answer — $39

One payment · Instant access · All sales final

You've got the book.

This is the weekend that gets you an answer to the question in it.

Ten sittings with me building a real campaign on screen while you build yours, plus Which Playground, The First Fifty Dollars and the Page Kit. Owned outright, not rented.

Fill this in and it's in your inbox inside a minute.

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I understand this is digital and immediately actionable, and that all sales are final.

Still got questions

What if I pick the wrong market?

There isn't one. You're not founding a company, you're buying an answer. If the first one's dull you'll know inside a week and you'll pick again carrying everything the first one taught you.

I don't have money for traffic.

Fifty dollars. Not a budget, not an ad account you have to feed. If fifty isn't there this month, read the book, keep it on the shelf, come back when it is. I'd rather that than you buying this and not running it.

Do I need a product of my own?

No. You promote something somebody else already built, delivers and supports. You bring the words and the fifty dollars.

I've already got clients. Why would I need this?

Client work keeps you busy. You're learning on their time, their budget and their patience, and you never find out whether the result was yours or theirs. Everybody I've competed with for the good accounts had something of their own running.

What's the refund policy?

It's digital, it's immediately actionable, and the whole thing is in your hands the second you pay. Refunds aren't permitted and I don't make exceptions.

If that's a problem, don't buy it. The book's free and it's the better half of what I know anyway.

WHAT'S YOUR ANSWER WHEN THEY ASK?

A weekend, and fifty dollars behind something you wrote.

You'll spend more than that by Sunday on things you won't be able to name by Tuesday. Spend it here instead and have an answer ready before anybody asks for it.

Set me up this weekend $39 · one payment · yours to keep

And if you don't

Pay attention to the next three weeks.

Tonight

You read the book. It's good, you'll agree with most of it, and somewhere around the third chapter something will settle.

Tomorrow

You'll mean to do something about it. You'll even know which thing.

Monday

Client work. The thing you meant to do moves to next weekend, which is where it's been living for two years.

Three weeks

A good one finally replies. You get on the call. He asks you the question.

That night

You come back and find this page, and it's all still here, and so is the thirty-nine dollars — and you've just lost considerably more than that to find out I wasn't exaggerating.

Meanwhile the copywriters who do this tonight have a live campaign, a number nobody handed them, and a sentence they can say out loud that you can't.

None of that is about talent. They spent a weekend and fifty dollars. You spent the same weekend meaning to.

It's four hours across a weekend. You've already got the book.

One last thing, and it isn't a pitch

I sent the same book to the people who hire you.

Chapter twelve tells them to ask that question first, before the samples, before the references, before anything about rates. It tells them a real answer comes out in seconds and a dodge sounds perfectly reasonable, and it tells them how to tell the two apart.

I did that on purpose, and I'd do it again. The ones who can answer it are the ones worth somebody's budget, and I've spent twenty years watching good writers lose work to people who were better at sounding employable.

But it does mean the thing I've just handed them is pointed at you.

You can be ready for it, or you can find out on the call.

I'm not going to email you about this twice and there's no cart closing at midnight. The question's coming either way, and what you're holding when it does is the only part you control.

Joshua Killingsworth

Writing since 2007 · four years inside ClickFunnels under somebody else's name · twenty years with something of my own running

Take me back up to the order form $39 · one payment · yours to keep

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Results shown reflect my own experience and the experience of select clients and members. These approaches work for us; your results will depend on your market and what you actually do with the material.