0 people signed up to my course

I am in the middle of a failure. Here's why it happened, what it's teaching me and what I'm doing about it.

Everyone seems to be a bit… tired.

I launched a new course last week. A three-month bumper course that covers everything I’ve been teaching in terms of building a career as a freelance writer and creative entrepreneur, over the past year and a half.

And no one signed up.

There was one person who seemed interested. I responded to their email and then I didn’t hear anything again. I don’t chase people. Instead, I continue to mention the course from time-to-time, trusting that if someone is going to sign up, they will.

This is the not the first time this has happened but it is very rare that not a single person signs up. I would guess I’ve done around 50 course launches and maybe two others have completely failed. But this is the first time I’ve live-streamed my failure.

In fact, when I’ve launched a course or programme that has totally flopped, I’ve never told anyone. Anyone. Maybe not even my husband. I’m used to having between 30 and 100 people sign up to most courses, so that’s what I expect every time.

At first, when this happens, I feel like a failure myself. I have ridiculous thoughts along the lines of: that’s it, I’m no longer an entrepreneur. I can’t run a business. I don’t know how this works. No one will ever sign up to anything again. I’m going to give it all up.

But once I’ve had my little internal explosion - or implosion - I start to rationalise. I look at my last course launch (last month) - the journalism course - and remember that a load of people signed up to that. I also have a steady stream of coaching clients.

I re-read the email that someone sent me about things being difficult at the moment with their business. I mention to another business owner I know that I haven’t sold any places and they tell me they have had very low sales so far, this month, too.

Also, I look at the course. It’s a three-month commitment. It’s more expensive that other courses I’ve launched recently. It covers a lot of ground. Too much ground, maybe. Perhaps it feels overwhelming, the idea of learning so much in one go.

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Moving on

I wake at dawn and lie in bed thinking about what has happened, and what I should do. I’m not panicked, because the last year and a half has been really good, financially, which has (initial failure feelings aside) given me confidence. I’m just curious.

My mind wanders to some of the femtrepreneurs I know. The women whose businesses are booming. The women who are clever and know the market and are filled with this brilliant energy that makes people want in.

One of them is Gemma Brady, founder of Sister Stories, who I mention quite a bit, because I’m so enjoying observing her business and dipping into her workshops. Gemma trains women to run women’s circles. So niche; so neat.

And, as far as I can see, her business is buzzing. Rightly so, she’s doing beautiful work, delivering it in the most authentic, creative way and always being so generous with her offers (free workshops, cheap workshops and then ‘higher ticket’ offers).

I realise there are two things going on right now.

Firstly, people are not - this week, or perhaps month - spending money on online business courses. I’m not saying that no one is making sales, but I have a fair few examples of lower sales in online courses, which suggests a little trend.

(Also: I’m hearing a lot about people’s Substack paid subscribers plateauing, dipping or slowing down.)

But, secondly: people are spending money. People are always spending money. It’s just that they have different needs right now.

I wrote this Instagram post the other day…

And several people told me in the comments how exhausted they felt. I’ve had DMs, too, from people saying they’re struggling. I’m noticing people talking about their tiredness in Instagram Stories and posts. Everyone is so bloody tired.

I am, too. I feel exhausted. That’s why I decided I’d like a sabbatical. And then I took it a step further and wondered whether it might be possible to just retire? Of course, this is not financially (or creatively) possible. I just need a holiday from the hustle.

Another truth

But there’s another truth here, for me, which is that: if people had signed up to my new programme, I would have been filled with energy for it. I’d be flying high. Success is invigorating, while failure can feel quite draining.

When I launch a course and someone immediately signs up, it fills me with confidence and hype. It’s like going for a run and suddenly being lifted off your feet, to find yourself flying. It’s exhilarating, making sales. Then, I keep going with it.

When no one signs up, however, it fills me with doubt and dread. Only initially. After the initial disappointment, I’m able to get some perspective on it and look at why it’s happened, learn, and launch something else. But that doubt is a shitter.

I talk to my dad about my failed course lunch, and he reminds me of something he was told some years ago about a business rarely falling off a cliff edge. It will almost always have a slow decline. Businesses don’t sink in a second. I find this helpful.

So then, it’s back to looking and listening: to the mood, to the emails, to the comments on my Instagram, to the Substack Notes that are going viral. To the posts that get people saying ‘it’s like you’re in my head, reading my thoughts’.

People are tired.

They want creativity, connection, time out, nature, sunshine, sundowners, love, friendship, touch, support, solidarity, holidays, time alone, time to think, space, to walk, move, sleep more, feel healthy.

This is why Gemma‘s business (Sister Stories) is, as far as I know, doing really well. This is what she offers, and what the women who sign up to her programmes will be offering the women who then go on to join their circles: connection, time, space.

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What I find particularly helpful about being my own ideal client (busy, ambitious, creative, in a caring role, lots of responsibilities, needing/wanting to continue with a career) is that I can look at what I want and need, and assume that’s what my people might want/need too.

What I want is some fucking peace. A moment to breathe. Simplicity, lower pressure (to win the Lottery?).

I’ve been trying to write blog posts to fix the SEO on my website and direct people to my online courses, as well as create complex funnels for automatic sales. I know all that works but I also can’t be fucking bothered.

And that’s because it’s not aligned with own needs, right now. I don’t need to be drawn into a marketing funnel, I need to be romanced by poetry and listening to music that makes my soul dance and offered prompts to help me think creatively.

The blogs posts, SEO and funnels can wait.

Periods like this call for pulling back, zooming out, looking at the bigger picture. And so, I’m going to help you to do that. Below is a five-minute video workshop with a coaching exercise that I love. It’s from one of my online courses, called Revive.

I thought about launching Revive again, as a course, as I think it might be exactly what people need right now. But I think people might also be looking to make smaller investments (of both time and money). So, instead, it’s for paid subscribers.

(If you’re not already a paid subscriber, you can sign up here and access all the essays in the archive, as well as writing and workshops going forward.)

I’ll be sharing the second video - another coaching workshop that will help you to reflect on your life/desires - next week.

Revive workshop 1