Listing Light ·a public experiment
01 / 11
An experiment on myself

The 10:30
bet.

Every night I'm not in bed by 10:30pm, a charity gets my money — and the stakes double every week.

The rules ↓ Book a shoot
Listing Light ·what I'm doing
02 / 11
The bet, in writing

Four weeks.
In bed by 10:30.

  • In bed by 10:30pm — every night, four weeks
  • Miss = donate — charity TBD, probably ocean cleanup
  • The two daily questions — asked and answered every day
  • Full report at the end of the month
  • Reward for a clean run — undecided
Listing Light ·how it's priced
03 / 11
Per missed night

The stakes
climb weekly.

Week 1
$50
Week 2
$100
Week 3
$150
Week 4
$200

Miss every single night and charity collects $3,500.

Listing Light ·the daily practice
04 / 11
Asked every single day

Two questions,
every day.

On the nights I make it

What did sleeping early give me?

On the nights I miss

What did missing it cost me?

I'll be sleeping early more than ever, so I'll know the answers better than ever — and comparing them daily is what turns one month into a lifelong habit.

Listing Light ·the fine print
05 / 11
No-excuse clauses

Late shoots don't
excuse me.

  • A twilight shoot that breaks the cutoff isn't an exemption — it's a signal to hire
  • An earlier flat-$50 attempt died on exactly those late nights — not this time
  • "Too easy" is allowed — an owner who ends his day on time is doing it right
Listing Light ·the scoreboard
06 / 11
Updated as the month unfolds

The
scoreboard.

Night one · Friday, July 25, 2026 (tentative — may shift a few days)

Week 1 · $50
· · ·
pending
Week 2 · $100
· · ·
pending
Week 3 · $150
· · ·
pending
Week 4 · $200
· · ·
pending

Wins, misses, donations, and the daily answers — the end-of-month report lands here.

P.S. — a note to future me, opened only if round one fails

There's a bigger gun I'm deliberately not using yet: $100 off for every VIP client and $20 to friends and family — starting with my parents — for each missed night, which over a year could compound past $1,000 for a single miss. It stays holstered because stakes with an audience make failing feel heroic, and I caught myself almost wanting to lose a few nights just to play that part. This isn't a hero's journey I'm performing — it's a crusade I intend to win quietly. If the charity bet fails, that's the escalation. I might not even announce it.

Part 2
07 / 11
That's the what — here's the why

Why I'm
doing this.

Listing Light ·the confession
08 / 11
How I actually lose my nights

It's never
half an hour.

An idea lands at 9 or 10pm and I tell myself I'll spend thirty minutes implementing it. Without fail, it's suddenly 3am. That exact loop has eaten hundreds of nights in the past year — back-to-back streaks of it.

Listing Light
09 / 11
The double-edged sword

The habit that built the business
is burning it down.

Instant implementation got the rocket off the ground. But we're in space now — time to stop burning fuel and cruise.

Listing Light ·the invisible math
10 / 11
Why the money and the questions

I can't feel
the compounding.

Sleep is an investment at the earliest, steepest part of the curve — a dollar tonight could genuinely be a million five to ten years out. I'm blinded to both sides: the upside of on-time nights and the damage of late ones are equally massive, and I can't see either in the moment. The money makes missing expensive today; the daily questions make the invisible visible. Together they're the experiment.

Listing Light · that's the bet
11 / 11
Why you're reading this

Hold me
to it.

The four weeks are just the on-ramp — the goal is the rest of my life. I'm sending this page to clients and friends so quitting quietly stops being an option.

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