- PPF Points
- 2,100
Started With a Dream and a $50 Laptop — So, Here’s How That Went
A year back, picture me, slouched on a couch that had definitely seen better days, pecking away at this ancient $50 laptop. Thing sounded like it was dying every time I booted it up. Some of the keys flat-out refused to cooperate. And don’t even get me started on the screen—it’d go full blackout if you leaned it the wrong way.
Honestly, it was a joke. If someone saw me, they’d probably have bet against me.
Business plan? Didn’t have one. Money? Nah. Network? Nope.
All I had was this stubborn streak and this feeling—deep in my gut—that maybe, just maybe, I could build... something. Didn’t know what. But hell, I was gonna try.
Here’s how it went.
The Rock-Bottom Launchpad
You want the full picture? The beginning was grim—a hot mess, honestly.
Let’s see:
People kept telling me, “Go get a real job.” Yeah, sure. But that “real job” life just felt like a cage. I didn’t want safe. I wanted out.
So I doubled down. Decided this wheezy laptop was now my ticket out.
The First Spark: Just a Tiny Idea
Running a business? Ha. Didn’t start like that.
Here’s literally what popped into my brain:
“What if I just helped somebody with something and they paid me a little bit?” Wild, right?
Not “build a six-figure empire.” Not “go viral and make it rain.” Just... solve an actual problem.
So I wrote down every skill I had. Even the tiny ones.
Settled on writing. Not poetry, not Hemingway-level stuff—just clear, everyday writing.
Threw together a one-page site. Nothing fancy—basically just me, yelling into the digital void: “Twenty bucks, I’ll write your blog post.”
Portfolio? Ha. Testimonials? LOL, if only. I just had pure, uncut hustle.
The Brutal Start: Zero for a Hundred
The beginning? Rough. Like, really rough.
Fired off a hundred cold emails at small business owners.
Here’s what I got back:
Yeah, it sucked.
But I noticed something: Nobody really cared about “a writer.” They wanted results.
So I flipped my pitch:
“Hey, I’ll help turn your site visitors into people who actually buy stuff. Clear, punchy blog posts.”
Suddenly, people started to bite.
By week four, I scored my first paying gig—fifty bucks for a 1,000-word blog.
Took me forever. If you do the math, that’s $10 an hour. But, man, I felt rich.
Months 1–3: Pure Grind
Next few months? All about hustle mode.
I:
Wasn’t raking it in—maybe $800 a month if I squinted at the numbers. But the wheels were turning. I was leveling up.
Kept telling myself, “This fifty-dollar laptop is my scrappy business partner. We’ll get there.”
Months 4–6: The First Big Break
Month four? Game-changer.
One client tossed my name to a start-up. They needed their whole site rewritten. The deal?
I said yes, worked my ass off, sent it early.
The founder loved it. She shared my name with a Slack group full of business peeps.
Within days, my inbox was blowing up with leads.
Raised my prices—$100 for a blog, $300 for landing pages. Suddenly, I was booked weeks out.
At this point, I stopped pretending this was just a side gig. Nah—this was my business.
The Laptop Meltdown Saga
Halfway through month six, my trusty sidekick (the laptop) decided to try dying.
Mid-project, total crash. Wouldn’t boot. Cue me, spiraling into a panic.
But, for once in my life, Past Me did Future Me a solid—I’d finally started backing stuff up on Google Drive, like, two weeks before.
Some aggressive fan cleaning later, the old thing sputtered back to life. Barely. It was on borrowed time.
But you know what? That broke-ass laptop taught me a straight-up superpower—resourcefulness. Turns out, what you do matters way more than the tools you’re using.
Months 7–9: Systematizing My Life
Fast forward a bit: I was pulling in about $2.5K each month, just from freelance writing. Not Bezos money, but a hell of a glow-up from scraping by.
But I hit this wall: no matter how hard I worked, time was maxed out.
So I started getting smarter—
Then? Boom—made my first digital product. Some no-BS guide called “How I Land Clients with Cold Emails.” Sold it for fifteen bucks.
Made $300 the first week, straight into my account, no extra work needed.
That’s when I realized—my actual life experience = $$$. Repeatable.
Months 10–12: The Snowball
The final stretch of the year was pure payoff.
Stats looked nuts compared to where I’d started:
But honestly? Cash aside—that whole “I don’t have to...” feeling? That was priceless.
A year back, picture me, slouched on a couch that had definitely seen better days, pecking away at this ancient $50 laptop. Thing sounded like it was dying every time I booted it up. Some of the keys flat-out refused to cooperate. And don’t even get me started on the screen—it’d go full blackout if you leaned it the wrong way.
Honestly, it was a joke. If someone saw me, they’d probably have bet against me.
Business plan? Didn’t have one. Money? Nah. Network? Nope.
All I had was this stubborn streak and this feeling—deep in my gut—that maybe, just maybe, I could build... something. Didn’t know what. But hell, I was gonna try.
Here’s how it went.
The Rock-Bottom LaunchpadYou want the full picture? The beginning was grim—a hot mess, honestly.
Let’s see:
- Got canned from my day job
- Scraping by on less than 500 bucks a month
- Fighting off imposter syndrome daily
- Hijacking public Wi-Fi at cafes since home internet was a pipe dream
- Relying on my Craigslist castoff laptop that probably had a past life as a boat anchor
People kept telling me, “Go get a real job.” Yeah, sure. But that “real job” life just felt like a cage. I didn’t want safe. I wanted out.
So I doubled down. Decided this wheezy laptop was now my ticket out.
The First Spark: Just a Tiny IdeaRunning a business? Ha. Didn’t start like that.
Here’s literally what popped into my brain:
“What if I just helped somebody with something and they paid me a little bit?” Wild, right?
Not “build a six-figure empire.” Not “go viral and make it rain.” Just... solve an actual problem.
So I wrote down every skill I had. Even the tiny ones.
Settled on writing. Not poetry, not Hemingway-level stuff—just clear, everyday writing.
Threw together a one-page site. Nothing fancy—basically just me, yelling into the digital void: “Twenty bucks, I’ll write your blog post.”
Portfolio? Ha. Testimonials? LOL, if only. I just had pure, uncut hustle.
The Brutal Start: Zero for a HundredThe beginning? Rough. Like, really rough.
Fired off a hundred cold emails at small business owners.
Here’s what I got back:
- 7 responses
- 3 actual conversations
- Zero clients
Yeah, it sucked.
But I noticed something: Nobody really cared about “a writer.” They wanted results.
So I flipped my pitch:
“Hey, I’ll help turn your site visitors into people who actually buy stuff. Clear, punchy blog posts.”
Suddenly, people started to bite.
By week four, I scored my first paying gig—fifty bucks for a 1,000-word blog.
Took me forever. If you do the math, that’s $10 an hour. But, man, I felt rich.
Months 1–3: Pure GrindNext few months? All about hustle mode.
I:
- Wrote for over 20 people
- Tried building a lil’ brand on Twitter
- Got my crash course in copywriting, thanks to YouTube university
- Threw my first $100 profit at some basic tools (Grammarly and Canva, lifesavers honestly)
Wasn’t raking it in—maybe $800 a month if I squinted at the numbers. But the wheels were turning. I was leveling up.
Kept telling myself, “This fifty-dollar laptop is my scrappy business partner. We’ll get there.”
Months 4–6: The First Big BreakMonth four? Game-changer.
One client tossed my name to a start-up. They needed their whole site rewritten. The deal?
- $1,000 for a complete re-do
- Two weeks to deliver
I said yes, worked my ass off, sent it early.
The founder loved it. She shared my name with a Slack group full of business peeps.
Within days, my inbox was blowing up with leads.
Raised my prices—$100 for a blog, $300 for landing pages. Suddenly, I was booked weeks out.
At this point, I stopped pretending this was just a side gig. Nah—this was my business.
The Laptop Meltdown SagaHalfway through month six, my trusty sidekick (the laptop) decided to try dying.
Mid-project, total crash. Wouldn’t boot. Cue me, spiraling into a panic.
But, for once in my life, Past Me did Future Me a solid—I’d finally started backing stuff up on Google Drive, like, two weeks before.
Some aggressive fan cleaning later, the old thing sputtered back to life. Barely. It was on borrowed time.
But you know what? That broke-ass laptop taught me a straight-up superpower—resourcefulness. Turns out, what you do matters way more than the tools you’re using.
Months 7–9: Systematizing My LifeFast forward a bit: I was pulling in about $2.5K each month, just from freelance writing. Not Bezos money, but a hell of a glow-up from scraping by.
But I hit this wall: no matter how hard I worked, time was maxed out.
So I started getting smarter—
- Built up templates for faster writing
- Got obsessively organized on Notion
- Hired a part-time editor (cost me $100/month, paid for itself instantly)
- Started actually documenting how I did things
Then? Boom—made my first digital product. Some no-BS guide called “How I Land Clients with Cold Emails.” Sold it for fifteen bucks.
Made $300 the first week, straight into my account, no extra work needed.
That’s when I realized—my actual life experience = $$$. Repeatable.
Months 10–12: The SnowballThe final stretch of the year was pure payoff.
Stats looked nuts compared to where I’d started:
- Five grand a month (mix of freelancing and product sales)
- 7,000 Twitter followers (yeah, I was shocked too)
- 1,500 on my email list
- Even got invited to appear on three business podcasts (which was wild, ‘cause I still felt like the underdog)
But honestly? Cash aside—that whole “I don’t have to...” feeling? That was priceless.
