Basically because everyone who wants a good content developer for free—OK, a barter arrangement isn’t free, but close enough for government work— will come pouring out of the woodwork into my already clogged inbox.
Edit my writing, help me develop my book’s concept, and I’ll give you a year’s worth of free tennis lessons, or take your headshots until your old and gray, or groom your dogs, or teach you how to grow tomatoes…. That’s what the emails will say.
How do I know? Shit happens All. The. Time.
Here’s the short answer: No.
Now, I generally despise the barter system. Nothing good ever comes of it.
Ask me, there’s a reason God invented currency: place a dollar amount on the table and both parties in a transaction can understand and agree upon the value of the products or services in question. And it doesn’t matter if one person wants book writing services while the other has no interest in growing fucking tomatoes. Two random puzzle pieces do not need to click into place.
All this being said…
I was sick of feeling fat. I’d gained twenty odd pounds over the course of two years because I’d stopped focusing on good habits and I was eating whatever crossed my path. (Suffice it to say, we’re not talking broccoli.)
I was stuck in a loop. I knew I needed accountability if I ever wanted to fit into something other than my shredded track pants ever again.
There’s no better motivation for change than having skin in the game. Put some money where your mouth is—as opposed to ice cream with chocolate sauce—and you’ll do what you’re supposed to do even if it requires effort and you’d rather not.
Enter Oonagh Duncan.
We were attending a private workshop when I happened to overhear this uber-buff redhead mention her desire to write a book. (OK, I was eavesdropping, whatever.) Another ambitious entrepreneur, Oonagh possessed a certain something-something that I liked, other than washboard abs that would make you weep. Maybe it was her brazen sassiness, or a sailor mouth that could match mine, or her fuck-your-excuses-we’re-getting-this-done attitude. Or all of the above.
Recognizing the stars in the sky for what they were, totally aligned, I suggested we help each other get what we wanted.
And we did.
I lost the weight. And Oonagh wrote this book, which was picked up by a major publishing house. Formerly known as Healthy as F*ck, it’s being re-launched under a new title in the U.S. because, apparently, books with the word Fuck in them are no longer a thing. (Trends are like that. You’ve got to keep up on that stuff. Or at least I do.)
I’m super proud of us both. Proud that I lost all that weight using Oonagh’s stupidly simple process, which she spells out in her book. And proud of the work we did together to make this book not only hilarious but also hugely effective.
P.S. No, I’m not interested in having my Akashic record read in exchange for my services. I don’t need legal services or Facebook advertising expertise. I could care less about canning vegetables or starting a llama farm or attracting billionaire boyfriends…