Three pieces of copy do almost all the work in this book: the DM that turns a comment into an email, the page that turns a visitor into a buyer, and the email that finally asks. Here they are in full, with the reasoning attached — because the reasoning is the part you can actually reuse.
All three, complete, with copy buttons. No email needed for any of it.
What most people write: "Hey! Thanks for commenting! Here's the link — also check out my course!" Three things wrong with that. It gives nothing before asking, it treats the email as a toll, and it upsells a stranger who has known you for eleven seconds.
Hey — you commented COVENANT on the testing-dates clip.
Quick version while I find the file: the single most common error I see is testing quarterly covenants on the calendar quarter instead of the borrower's fiscal quarter. About a third of the portfolios I've reviewed had at least one of these.
Want me to send the full checklist?
Sending now. What's the best email for it? It's a spreadsheet, so it won't send properly here — and I'd rather you have the working file than a screenshot.
Sent. Check promotions if it's not there in a few minutes.
I write one email a week about this stuff — mostly things that go wrong and how to catch them early. If it's not useful, the unsubscribe link is at the bottom of every one and I genuinely won't be offended.
It gives before it asks. Message 1 contains a real, specific, useful fact that costs nothing to receive. By the time you ask for the email you've already been useful once, and the exchange feels fair because it is.
The ask has a real reason attached. "It's a spreadsheet, it won't send properly here" is a genuine constraint, not a pretext. People hand over an email far more readily when the reason is true — and resent it when it's obviously a toll booth.
It sets honest expectations. One email a week, roughly what's in it, how to leave. Costs you a handful of subscribers immediately, saves a much larger number of spam complaints later — and spam complaints are what actually damage a sending domain.
It requires a reply between messages 1 and 2. Doing double duty: a conversation with a reply in it reads as a conversation to the platform, where a one-way blast reads as automation — and automation at volume is what gets accounts restricted.
If commenter-to-email runs below about 25%, the problem is almost always the DM copy, not the offer. Read message 1 again and ask whether it gives anything before it asks.
In this order, with word counts. The order matters more than the prose — and the whole page stays under 700 words, because at a $47–$340 price point a long page reads as overselling.
You have a covenant tracking spreadsheet. Someone built it four years ago, they don't work here anymore, and nobody is completely sure which tabs still update.
So every quarter there's a week where you're cross-checking testing dates against fiscal year-ends by hand, and you're fairly confident it's right. Fairly confident. And the thing you actually lose sleep over isn't the covenant you're testing — it's the one that isn't on the sheet at all, because it was buried in an amendment that never made it into the tracker.
That's the one they find.
I spent eleven years in credit risk at community banks. I built the first version of this after an examiner found a breach in a portfolio I'd personally reviewed twice.
If you're tracking under twenty loans and your current spreadsheet works, you don't need this yet. The threshold where hand-tracking stops being reliable is somewhere around thirty-five covenants — under that, save your money.
This also won't help if you need something that integrates with your core system. It doesn't. It's a file you maintain.
Block 3 never mentions the product. It spends 120 words proving he understands the reader's Tuesday. The phrase "fairly confident" is lifted almost verbatim from something a prospect wrote to him — that's the collected customer language doing its job.
Block 6 has a failure in it. Not "eleven years of expertise" — an examiner found a breach he'd personally missed twice. Proof with a scar in it outperforms proof without one, because it's the kind of thing nobody makes up.
Block 7 gives a number to come back at. It turns away every reader under twenty loans and tells them exactly when to return. Some of them will.
Before you write a word: collect twenty verbatim customer sentences, typos left in. You are not trying to write well. You are trying to write their words back to them, and the only way to do that is to collect the words first.
Email 5 of 5, arriving on day 8 after four emails that gave. It's the hardest one to write, which is why it's the one worth stealing.
Over the last week I've sent you the documentation checklist, the story of the batch record that cost me a fortnight, the four filing errors that cause most audit findings, and an honest answer about whether you could just build this yourself.
Here's the thing I sell.
It's a validation documentation toolkit — the templates, the filing structure, and the sequence auditors actually ask for things in. It's $149 and it takes about two hours to set up against your existing SOPs.
Who it's for: someone in their first three years in pharma ops who's been handed responsibility for validation documentation and is currently reverse-engineering the system from whatever the last person left behind.
Who it isn't for: if you've been through two audits and have a filing structure you trust, you already know most of this. I'd skip it.
No countdown timer and no launch price. It's $149 today and it'll be $149 next month. I'd rather you bought it when you actually need it than because I put a clock on the page.
[Have a look →]
If it's not useful, there's a thirty-day refund and a form that processes it within the hour. You won't have to email me about it.
— Priya
It opens by accounting for what it gave. Not as a boast — as a fair reckoning. The reader has genuinely received four useful things, and naming them makes the ask read as a reasonable next step rather than a swerve.
It disqualifies people inside the ask. Same move as block 7, and more powerful here because it lands in an email where the reader is braced for a pitch.
It refuses fake urgency out loud. "No countdown timer and no launch price" converts better than a fabricated deadline with a professional audience, because they've seen a thousand fake deadlines and every one was an insult to their intelligence.
It closes on the refund, not the price. The last thing they read is how easy it is to leave.
The pattern under all three of these: honest friction outperforms its absence. The refund you automate, the buyer you turn away, the deadline you refuse to invent — each costs something measurable and returns the one thing you can't buy, which is a stranger's belief that you'll tell them the truth when it costs you.
Three pieces are on this page. The file has the rest — and the variants for people selling something other than a compliance workbook.
It's a Google Doc and a sheet, so tell me where to send them.
One email a week about building things that run without you. Unsubscribe link at the bottom of every one, and it works.
© 2026 Jeff Sheikowitz. All rights reserved.