A personalized roadmap, built from your story.

Peterson gave you the questions.
We give you the answers.

A structured self-authoring program with an AI-personalized 90-day action plan. Six questions in. A 1,500-word roadmap, written for you and only you, in your inbox within 24 hours.

One-time payment. No subscription. Refund if it isn't useful.

What you get

Not advice. A reading of your own life.

Most self-help is generic by design — it has to fit everyone. Your report fits one person: you. It's written from your six answers, quotes your own words back to you, and ends with a 90-day plan that addresses the actual friction you named.

  • A through-line. The pattern connecting your past, your fault, and your friction — named out loud, often for the first time.
  • The strength you're under-using. Reframed and pointed at the future you described.
  • A 90-day plan in three phases. Specific weekly milestones. One keystone action per phase. No "exercise more."
  • Daily practices under 30 minutes. Print and tape to a wall.
  • One question to ask yourself in 30 days. Designed to pull you back to honesty if you've drifted.

How it works

Three steps. Twenty minutes of writing.

01

Pay $49.

Stripe checkout. You'll be redirected straight to the form. One-time payment, no subscription, no upsell.

02

Answer six questions.

The questions compress Peterson's three-suite framework — past, present faults & virtues, future — into the minimum viable set. Plan on twenty quiet minutes. Be specific. The report can only be as good as the raw material.

03

Get your roadmap within 24 hours.

A 1,500–2,000 word personalized report — interpretation, 90-day plan, daily practices, one prescribed reading, one question for your 30-day check-in. Delivered to your inbox as a polished document.

Why I built this

A note from the founder.

Let me be upfront about what I'm not. I'm not a therapist. I don't have a Ph.D. in psychology. I'm not Jordan Peterson, and I'm not pretending to be his successor.

What I am is someone who did his Self-Authoring Suite a few years ago and walked away with two hundred pages of writing, real insights, and absolutely no idea what to do with any of it. The questions were brilliant. The synthesis was missing. And it turned out that the synthesis — reading the through-line in someone else's story, naming the pattern they can't quite see, pointing at where to start Monday — is something a careful reader can do for another person far better than that person can do for themselves.

So I built a tool that does it. Six questions, calibrated to elicit the right kind of material. A system that reads your answers the way a good editor reads a manuscript: looking for the line you're afraid to write, the contradiction you didn't notice, the strength you keep apologizing for. A 90-day plan that addresses the actual friction you named, not a generic one.

If you want a therapist, see a therapist. If you want a chatbot, you have one in your pocket. If you want what the Self-Authoring Suite almost gave you — your own life read back to you with a real plan to act on — that's what this is.

— Jake, Founder

A full sample report

"I don't trust my own judgment yet."

Below is a complete, unedited report for a fictional client — a mid-30s engineering manager whose father left when he was nine. This is exactly what you'll receive, formatted for your story.

Your Personalized Roadmap

Sample · Engineering manager, age 34 · Issued for demonstration

1. What I noticed reading your answers

The thing I want to name first is the line running from your father leaving at 9, through "making myself small in rooms where I should lead," to "I don't trust my own judgment yet." That's not three separate problems. That's one problem wearing three different costumes. A nine-year-old learns, in the absence of the man who was supposed to model authority, that authority is dangerous, abandoning, or absent — so the nine-year-old grows up into a man who is very good at being useful to authority, and very bad at becoming it himself. Your career path, your fault, and your friction are all the same wound, expressed at three different scales.

Here's what's interesting, though: you already know this. Your answer to Q6 — "I don't trust my own judgment yet" — is doing real work. You didn't write "I need more skills" or "I need more capital." You named the actual lock. Most people I read can't get that close to their own mechanism. That you can means you're closer to the version of yourself in Q4 than you think.

2. The strength you're under-using

The story you told about the junior engineer who almost quit — sitting with him for two hours, not solving it, just listening, then quietly fixing the political problem above his head the next morning — is a portrait of exactly the kind of consultant you described wanting to be in Q4. Three deep client relationships. Mornings free. Trusted judgment. That is what you did for that engineer. The capacity exists. You've just been donating it to your employer for free instead of charging $300/hour for it.

3. The fork in the road

The Wednesday you described at 45 if nothing changes — same standup, same Slack pings, same six tabs open, the kids a little older and a little less interested in talking to you, the same low hum of "I should have done something by now" — is not a dramatic failure. It's a quiet one. That's what makes it dangerous. Dramatic failures get addressed. Quiet ones get tolerated for thirty years.

The Wednesday you described in Q4 — coffee on the porch, two hours of deep work before the kids wake up, one client call, a walk at lunch — is built by a person who has decided that his own judgment is worth being paid for. The man who reaches Q5 is the man who keeps quietly hoping someone else will validate him into the role. The man who reaches Q4 is the man who one Wednesday morning decides he doesn't need that anymore.

4. Your 90-day action plan

Days 1–30 — Clear the friction

Theme: stop waiting to feel ready.

  • Week 1. Write down three judgment calls you made at work this month that turned out to be right. Keep the list on your desk. This is the evidence base your nine-year-old self never had.
  • Week 2. Have one conversation with someone who has the consultancy you want. Not for advice — for texture. What's a Wednesday actually like? What did month one feel like?
  • Weeks 3–4. Pick one client-shaped problem in your current job that you'd normally escalate. Solve it yourself, document the decision, and tell your manager after. Watch what happens to your nervous system.

Keystone: The judgment-call list. If you do nothing else, do this. It's a daily 60-second exercise in noticing that you already think clearly.

Days 31–60 — Build the new pattern

Theme: practice being seen as the authority.

  • Weeks 5–6. Write one short LinkedIn post per week about a real engineering management problem and how you'd think about it. Not a hot take. A thought. This rehearses the muscle of "my judgment in public."
  • Week 7. Take on one piece of paid side work — a friend's startup, a weekend audit, anything. Charge for it. Underprice if you have to. The point is to feel money exchange hands for your judgment, once.
  • Week 8. Have the harder conversation with your wife about what a 12-month transition would look like financially. Not "should I quit." A specific runway question.

Keystone: The weekly LinkedIn post. It costs nothing and it's the lowest-stakes way to prove to yourself that strangers will take your thinking seriously.

Days 61–90 — Aim at the vision

Theme: make a real bet.

  • Weeks 9–10. Define your wedge. Which two or three companies, in which industry, with which exact problem? "Engineering leadership coaching for Series A founders" beats "consulting." Specificity is what gets you hired.
  • Week 11. Land your first paid scoping call. Not a contract. A call. $500, 90 minutes, written recommendations. One.
  • Week 12. Decide your 12-month structure. Four days a week at the day job and consult Friday? Set a leave date? Pick a structure and tell three people, so it's real.

Keystone: Landing the first paid scoping call. This is the moment "I might be able to do this" becomes "I have done this."

5. Daily practices

  • 5 min, morning. Write one sentence answering: "What's one judgment I'm going to make today that's actually mine?"
  • 2 min, before any meeting where you'd normally defer. Read your judgment-call list.
  • 10 min, evening. One sentence on what you were small in today. No fixing. Just naming.
  • Sunday, weekly. Reread your Q4 Wednesday. Not as motivation — as a reality check on the week ahead.

6. One thing to read this week

Read the chapter "On Becoming One's Own Authority" in The Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Miller. It's short, it's brutal, and it's about exactly the loop you described in Q1. Skip the rest of the book if you want. That chapter alone is the lens you need.

7. The question to ask yourself in 30 days

"Am I still keeping the judgment-call list — or did I quietly stop because the evidence got hard to argue with?"

Because the version of you that reaches Q4 isn't the one who tries hardest. It's the one who keeps the evidence in front of his own face long enough to believe it.

Yours will be written for your story. Not this one.

Begin your report — $49

Questions you probably have

FAQ

Is this just ChatGPT in a wrapper?
The model is a large language model — yes, that's the engine. What you're paying for isn't access to the model; it's the framework. The six questions are calibrated to elicit the kind of specific, vivid material the model can actually do something with. The system prompt that turns those answers into a report has been iterated over hundreds of drafts. If you paste the same six answers into a stock chatbot, you'll get something noticeably worse — generic, padded, and full of the self-help platitudes this report is designed to never contain.
How long does the form take?
Plan on twenty quiet minutes. The questions are designed to surface specific memories and concrete details, not abstractions — so don't speed-run it. The report can only be as good as the raw material you feed it.
How long until I get my report?
Within 24 hours, usually within 6.
What's your refund policy?
If you read your report and it doesn't feel useful, reply to the email with the word "refund" and we'll send your $49 back — no questions, no follow-up, no awkward retention email. We'd rather have a no than a resentful yes.
Who is this for?
People in transition — career, identity, relationship, life stage — who suspect they have a pattern they haven't named yet, and want a structured way to look at it. It works especially well for people who've already done some self-work and are tired of generic frameworks.
What happens to my answers?
They're used to generate your report and stored encrypted. They are not sold, shared, or used to train models. You can request deletion any time by replying to your delivery email.

Six questions.
One reading of your own life.

Twenty minutes of writing now. A 1,500-word personalized roadmap in your inbox within 24 hours. $49, one-time, refundable.

Begin your report — $49

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