Between My Sheets—Episode 8: The French Kiss
The Frenchman. The bathtub. The word-web.
What if rebuilding a word-business isn’t about building something new — but about opening the rooms of what you’ve already built, one door at a time, until every room is ready to receive a guest?
New here? You may want to start at the beginning . . .
Because it turns out I’m writing a book disguised as a literary business model, disguised as a memoir unfolding in real time.
Sink into this Friday moment—roughly a 14-minute read.
Welcome, you.
The Frenchman made it.
Friday, after I hit publish on Episode 7: The Gold, he called.
Bad news.
His Paris flight had been delayed and he’d miss his island connection in Saint Maarten.
I didn’t let it bother me.
I just word-worked because I knew when he did arrive, I’d be distracted and rightly so.
On Sunday, I kept working, not allowing myself to be sad about a missed night . . .
I’d see him Monday morning.
I’d clean up first, run to the store, buy milk for his tea . . . breathe easy and be totally focused on him.
The man I’ve missed for going on three months now.
And then he landed in SXM and was put on the 5pm flight.
I found out at 3:50pm.
Still working away, nothing picked up, not even showered—no milk for his morning tea in sight.
Oops.
Instead of rushing, getting annoyed, frustrated, upset by all the changes—I simply eased out of work mode . . .
And into being his loving, waiting early at the airport wife.
And there he was. First off the plane. Black ruck sack of a bag slung over his muscled shoulder—filled full with Paris treats for me.
Gorgeous. Fabulous. Mine.
And now, home.
No milk. Not ready. But present nonetheless.
Fully focused on him.
. . .
Now. The honest part.
Last week I told you about my word-business bible.
One Google Doc.
Tabs for every product.
A system that made my shoulders relax just thinking about it.
Yeah, no.
That got unwieldy and huge fast.
So I broke it down. Calmly. No harm. No foul.
Just honestly looking at what works and doesn’t—no longer forcing a square peg in a round word-hole.
So this week—with the Frenchman now very much present and very much distracting in the most delightful way—I adapted.
One doc per product.
One folder per product.
One archive of past messy docs per product folder.
Each product—its own contained world—fully documented from creation to completion.
Which led me straight to the new skill I’m learning alongside finish before you move on, Jill.
A today end.
The web doesn’t end. The web never ends. But my workday does.
And right now I’m in creation mode . . .
which means longer workdays than normal.
Of course, I am—busy creating, building—when The Frenchman arrives.
Honestly, he’d expect nothing less.
(Like me sitting here now on Friday morning, at the kitchen counter, back to the gorgeous sea so I don’t get distracted, writing this episode. Him just over there, reading and watching me with a soft smile.)
Gotta love that man. He who lets me be who I am meant to be.
A creator.
. . .
A creator who has always envisioned a word-web of a business. For years, a decade even, I’ve pictured what I wanted to create . . .
Yet, I have worked with mentors, hired a few of them too, who gave me their ideas, their thoughts, their path.
I have an epiphany about mentors and coaches now too.
I’m only working with someone who is doing the thing I am trying to do because I want an inside look at how they succeed.
Period.
I am no longer listening to any other voice before my own.
I have given away my vision, my sovereignty—a few too many times—my choice and my mistake . . . and wonder if you can relate?
Small, size seven foot stomp from me—no more.
The picture I have in my head is this.
One book or offer leads naturally to ten more.
All interwoven.
All fabulous alone, delicious together.
An EXPERIENCE, not just a word ecosystem.
Every mentor I’ve had encouraged me—some downright told me—one thing. High ticket. One program. One focus.
But that’s not how my brain works.
And I’m done apologizing for that.
I’m no longer trying to change that.
I love being creative.
I love creating.
I never want to stop creating.
And creating looks like a wide variety of activities in my world. Not just writing.
I absolutely love being visual—designing sales pages, book covers, experiences.
I also love the tech—when I do it from start to test to finished.
Here’s what focus looks like in my world.
My front door sounds simple—a $9 ebook.
One door. Come on in.
Except.
That $9 ebook has three other touch points or what marketers call order bumps. And, an after-purchase opportunity—or upsell.
Each of those with their own delivery emails, sales pages, tagging, email sequences—some of which loop back to those same five offers, which means each of those needs standalone sales pages, tagging, and email sequences too.
Is your head ready to explode?
Mine was until I slowed down and went offer by offer.
Which is why my front door is still not open.
That $9 ebook has four other offers attached to it!
Yes, I could remove them, open faster with just one other touch point, but I’m again about the experience I want someone to have . . .
as they come into my world for the first time.
If you’re not familiar with the lingo, an order bump is like a rack of tabloids or a display of candy bars in the checkout line right before you buy that thing you came here to get.
It’s that impulsive ‘add to cart’ offer you can’t resist. (I hope.)
And the upsell, well, you’ve seen it and even heard it if you’ve swung through a MacDonald’s drive-thru. “Would you like to super-size that?”
In my case, it’s a most delicious offer once you make your purchase, something you can “add to your already purchased order” with the click of a button.
Or say no, thank you and move to the thank you or order summary page.
Or in heavy bro marketing cases, go to another offer and another and another.
But that’s not my way.
My way is to create experiences you simply can’t resist—don’t want to resist.
See, last episode when I mentioned helping 33,000 creatives, it triggered a deep-seated memory within me.
I can sell high ticket $4K, $6,500, $10K, even $50K offers off of an ugly Google doc sales page—which is a damn impressive skill, or so I’ve been told.
But I don’t want to.
I want to reach more people. Those who have a dream but can’t or won’t drop multiple or double digit thousands for the privilege.
Creativity is not only for those who can afford it.
Creativity, writing mastery should be available to anyone who desires it.
I want to make magnetic writing, creativity, living a delicious life filled with JOY thousands, hundreds of thousands of individuals.
Like the books I write.
They aren’t read by 100 people and forgotten.
They are read by hundreds of thousands of people—in many languages.
My books, my words live on—tend to be talked about, shared, referenced—and that’s what I want to create here.
A referral based word-business.
Where my $9 ebook, The Magnetic Storytelling Method—the Front Door into my word-web I’ve been talking about—is so damn good, it’s shared, quoted, and found daily.
I’ve had mentors who’ve said you can’t get rich selling a low ticket product.
I call bullshit.
First, I’m not interested in being rich, driving a Tesla, or flying on private planes—although the last is fun and rather nice.
I am interested in building wealth—the wealth that naturally comes when you help others.
The wealth I have experienced writing books that sell for (cough) low ticket prices.
So that $9 ebook, the one that over 2,700 creatives have already found—although I made it rather difficult—has already brought in over $24K.
And now, with a few updates, fixed links on the final pages and a newly designed cover, will continue to bring in money, once this Front Door of mine opens.
A title that will sell and help creatives, writers new and seasoned, for years—possibly decades—to come.
Created once and now automated to hum in the background with structured ease while I feed the rescue goats, play with a kitten, or create a new offer.
Because I told you already about four other offers this 114 page book gives someone access too.
But here’s the thing, it doesn’t end there.
Inside the book there are a few additional opportunities to work with me or enter my word-web.
Plus, in emails that deliver those first five offers, follow up on how they’re doing and provide the needed momentum in the moment—there are paths to more, different, complementary experiences.
Products like 11.11.Go Magnetic Writing Prompts to keep someone writing daily.
Not the typical “describe your morning” kind. These are feeling prompts. The kind that unlocks something deep inside—a memory that’s been waiting to be written.
So what does that mean?
11.11.Go needs its own sales page.
Its own tagging.
Its own welcome into the world.
A series of emails . . .
And so does that upsell on my Front Door I mentioned.
Magnetic Stories From Your Ordinary Life—already created, it’s something I’m super proud of and already receiving “mad love” from my 17 beta students.
Inside it includes a 79-page playbook, two stories I wrote (each shared in written form and as audio recordings with commentary), plus a behind-the-scenes video of me editing a real story.
An actual look at how stories come together—not just the polished, publishable version most see.
And that $9 book that started it all—The Magnetic Storytelling Method— is now also a private podcast.
Not an audiobook. A podcast . . .
Imagine being able to search by chapter, by magnetic task.
To return to and listen again and again—In My Magnetic Voice—while on the go, on the commute, or just before you sit to write.
I’m recording it now, chapter by chapter.
Between French kisses.
😉
See what I mean about the web?
One door. Five offers. And those lead to a few more. Forty-seven-ish moving parts.
Every male mentor told me one thing, one focus, high ticket.
But that’s not a door—that’s a hallway.
Or a big city loft.
One wide open space.
If you remember from Episode 6: The Gate, the first book I wrote about the gate that connected two houses. His and hers.
Hers filled with nooks and crannies, wide wrap-around porches, wild gardens and inside oodles of rooms and cozy spaces, places to curl up with a good book or two.
And what I’ve learned from writing professionally for nearly thirty years . . . there are so many people who want that too.
A wild word-world to walk into.
Like the one I imagine.
Like the one I wrote about with that very first novel.
Like the one I currently live on a tropical island, rescuing animals, with a Fabulous Frenchman who comes—and goes.
Who has his own open loft space—one large, clean, neat space.
Like those male mentors shouting high ticket, one product, one focus, one room.
No, thank you.
Here’s what I know.
I am a creative bad ass.
I am wildly prolific.
I am a Jill-of-all-Trades and damn good at many of them . . .
when I finish.
So I am finishing.
It’s a slightly harder skill for me to implement, but not impossible, because I have proof that I finish things.
More than 100 books now—to name but one type of finishing I’ve mastered.
I also know this.
I love building this word-web.
The conditional logic—the if-this-then-that of interconnected offers. It makes my brain fire just as hot as writing a smoking love scene does.
Equally creative.
Just in a different language.
The tech side and the creative side, both lit up, both mine.
I’m doing it all—graphics, design, tech, writing—and finishing.
Could I hire a “doer”?
Yes, but then I’d be doing the thing I dislike.
Explaining, managing, overseeing, fixing.
And even worse, having systems created how someone else thinks . . .
and being left to try to figure it out.
Been there, done that.
Just no.
Instead, if and when the time comes to bring someone in to help with the 100 a month or day orders of my $9 book front door . . .
and the 40% take on order bump one,
30% take on bump two,
20% take on bump three,
and 5% take on the upsell . . .
100 a month to start.
Imagine if 100 a day is where this goes.
All will be documented.
All will be structured for how MY brain fires—and a fab “doer” can simply come aboard my word-train and help support all those orders, all those students who said yes to writing . . .
Mental math moment.
Did you follow those numbers? Because if you did, you’d be calling bullshit on those who say “low ticket doesn’t make you rich” too.
Book sales 100 a month, monthly that’s $3,745, yearly $44,940.
But now 100 book sales a day—this is where it gets a bit hands off delicious. $3,745 per day. $112,350 per month. $1,366,925 per year.
Imagine how many writers I’d be impacting with those numbers . . . and how many more creatures I could rescue!
That’s why I am finally doing this my way—not someone’s version of the right way . . . my way.
That’s true wealth.
Alignment.
That’s the power of a well-created, well-structured, humming in the background word-web.
One $9 door, built right, with the right rooms behind it, becomes magnetic—magical.
And this is exactly what The Balance Sheet is for.
These numbers—all the numbers—in a back room where you can see how it all actually works.
. . .
I thought I wanted to open The Balance Sheet this week—the pay-to-enter back room I mentioned in Episode 7.
Real numbers. Real transparency.
The honest accounting of what this word-business costs with earns and loses and gains.
Plus, deep dives into what works and what doesn’t.
But here’s the truth: I didn’t even think about it.
And that’s a good thing. Here’s why.
A new idea landed this week, actually several—as they do, as they always will.
A year-long newsletter.
Daily emails.
Write a book a year.
Genre specific—non-fiction, then romance, then memoir.
Daily guidance, motivation, inspiration. Fabulous.
And then I did something kind of new and oddly wonderful.
The idea went on the list.
Not the calendar. Not yet.
I didn’t take 30 minutes to sketch it out.
I took five to jot it down.
Because an idea list is not a to-do list.
And knowing the difference is giving my creativity a special place, saving my sanity, and protecting my focus, so my word-business can finally take off.
Not distraction free . . . but better.
See, I haven’t even set up a welcome email for new Substack subscribers yet. I haven’t learned much about Substack yet—period.
Only how to post these articles.
And share a few Notes.
That got put to the side—for now.
Not my weekly episodes but the focus needed to create systems and momentums so people can find me.
Right now, I’m writing into the void, not sharing—not because I don’t want to—but because, at this moment, my priority is that Front Door.
While I honor this weekly commitment.
Two word-muscles being worked here—delicious.
That’s why at the time of publishing this article, all traffic has been organic.
I’ve yet to share Between My Sheets via email, social channels or (gasp) word of mouth.
And it’s okay. This too has a spot on my next up idea list.
Sharing this publication, this series AND soon starting The Balance Sheet.
So no. Not this week.
And I’m okay with that.
The Balance Sheet will have its own dedicated moment of creation.
From start to bloody finish.
When it’s time.
And because of that new way of being, it will be created with JOY, with ease, with flow and with solid focus and attention each offer—like each book I write—deserves.
One and FULLY done.
And when The Balance Sheet opens, it’ll be built right—complete, tested, and ready to receive you properly.
Like a well-made bed with hospital corners and a mint on the pillow.
Do they still do that? The mint?
And each month or quarter—however I decide when it’s time to fully flesh this idea out—what will be laid bare on this well-made sheet are the exact numbers.
This not yet complete, not yet shared word-web of mine managed to make $5,243 this week from those
17 individuals I mentioned going through The 11 Day Magnetic Writing Experience
41 creatives happily beta-enJOYIng two other offers
25 working through those 11 Magnetic Writing Prompts with me as their Writing Witness.
While everyone shouts “Launched fast!”—I’m slowing way the hell down.
I’m being intentional.
Structured.
Aligned.
And damn, don’t it feel good.
And those creatives going through these offers in beta this week?
“Love. Love. Love.”
Those are the actual words coming back to me. Day after day.
People feeling empowered to write.
To access their stories.
To get unstuck from the version of themselves that always meant to start but never quite did.
That’s what I’m here for!
That’s why I’m finally creating this word-web of a delicious business my way.
That’s the 33,000.
Not someday.
Starting now.
. . .
Speaking of now . . .
Because you might be wondering about that bubble bath I was so looking forward to last Saturday night . . .
I can share that those best laid plans were waylaid.
My plumber came down with a headcold, poor thing, and hooked all the things up on Tuesday.
A working bathtub—on my front porch.
Weird. Cool. Quirky. He thought it was awesome.
I hope he’s not a peeping Tom.
Which leads me to a little dilemma . . .
My above-neighbors arrived the same day.
Sigh. Seriously.
While my house is ultra private and somewhat hidden from the road, I am on a hillside with a house above me—barely visible through my trees.
And one below me, not visible through the tropical lushness currently at all.
These above-me-neighbors—who I have never met, who have been to their place once in the past year—chose my bathtub hookup day to arrive.
And since my bathtub faces their house . . . which I can barely see . . . it still derailed me from sinking into those silky, bubble filled waters for now.
Especially given the full, bright pink moon we enJOYed that same night.
So no bath below a star filled sky just yet.
But soon.
But it’s there. Hooked up. Waiting.
The silky, almost-hot water is going nowhere.
And the carpenter is coming back for the privacy screens—at some point.
This crazy goat lady—with half a dozen cats, a bathtub on her front porch, and a gorgeous Frenchman inside—can wait one more week.
I can almost feel it . . .
. . .
And him.
Fab. Wonderful. Utterly distracting in only the best ways.
And being wrapped up in his arms again makes the bathtub a second place reward.
All in all it’s been a productive week, a full week, an intimate week of being with my man and coming home to myself.
The word-gate is open. The web is being built.
The front door will be live—before mid-week—because I’m now in flow, solid, sovereign, working with structured ease.
And damn does it feel good.
Here’s to 33,000 creative souls soon finding and entering my word-front door.
Will you be one of them?
Just Jill “Jill-of-all-trades, between French kisses” Stevens
💜
P.S. The front door isn’t live quite yet—but it’s close. I’ll add the link here the moment it opens.
P.P.S. By the way, while the Frenchman settled in, I ran into town to my favorite restaurant—owned by a friend of mine—and managed to snag a carton of milk for his morning (pre-store opening) tea.
I love small town-island-living . . . where everyone kinda knows your name.
P.P.P.S. Episode 9: Yet to be titled—The bath. The numbers. The Frenchman, still here.
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Just so you know: This is my slice of the web where hot flashes meet cold wine, neck waddles are real, and birthdays feel more like breakdowns. Step into my word-world as I (re)build my writing life in real time.