Look, I’m just going to lay this out. This whole “free Pisces weekly” thing? It didn’t start because I wanted to be some guru or spiritual coach. It started because I was absolutely fed up, broke, and furious.
I mean, we had this insane plumbing bill last spring. It was one of those weeks where every appliance decided to just stop working simultaneously. My savings account took a hit, and I was just sitting there, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe itself was actively trolling me.
So, what do you do when you’re desperate and your bank account is sweating? You find a goddamn psychic. I scrolled through a bunch of sites and finally landed on one of those shiny, ultra-professional astrologers—you know, the ones with the velvet background and the ‘Certified Cosmic Clarity’ badge. She was charging $150 for a 15-minute phone consultation. I figured, $150 might save me $1,500 in bad decisions. I pushed the payment through.
The call? Absolute garbage. 15 minutes of generic platitudes and breathing exercises. She hit me with stuff like, “You will encounter a new perspective this month,” and, “A tall person will bring unexpected news.” I’m five foot eight! Everyone is tall to me! $150 for a fortune cookie. I hung up the phone and just felt ripped off. Not just financially, but spiritually. It was all a cheap performance.
I slammed my laptop shut and just thought: I can do better than that. I literally can. I might not have a velvet website, but I have a $15 notebook, my old copy of The Astrologer’s Handbook from college, and a burning rage. And that, my friends, is how the weekly Pisces forecast started. Free. No velvet. No clarity badges. Just me, figuring out the transits, and trying to make them sound like something a real human would actually say.
Setting the System Up: The Initial Scramble
The first thing I did was grabbed a free sign-up service—the one all the newsletter people use. I wasn’t paying for anything. I just needed a place to dump some emails. I didn’t even bother with a fancy logo. I literally just typed “Pisces Weekly” in a standard font and called it a day. The whole point was speed and accessibility. I figured if I made it look too professional, people would think it was another scam.
Next up was the content. I made a commitment to only focus on Pisces. Why Pisces? Because I connect with the sign; I have a lot of Pisces energy in my chart, so I figured I could get into that headspace easily. Also, trying to write for all twelve signs? Forget about it. This whole project was born out of avoiding stress, not adding to it.
I pulled up the planetary charts for the next six weeks. I spent a good three hours just mapping out what was going where. I wasn’t using any fancy software; I was using a public domain website and jotting notes in that cheap notebook. My process was simple:
- I tracked the big movements: Is Mercury changing direction? Is Venus moving into a new house?
- I translated the jargon: Instead of “Mars square Neptune,” I wrote, “You’re going to be annoyed by flaky people this week, so don’t lend out any money or your lawnmower.”
- I kept it short: Five solid, actionable bullet points. No rambling about past lives or cosmic destiny.
I drafted the first one in a single, frenetic burst. It was a total mess, but I didn’t care. It was raw, honest, and completely free of charge. I didn’t even edit it much. I was convinced that the less time I spent polishing it, the more “real” it would sound.
The Launch and the Fallout
I pushed that first email out on a Sunday afternoon. I only had about 10 people on the list—my wife, my brother, two cousins, and six friends I begged to sign up. I had zero expectations. I figured I’d do this for maybe a month and then get tired of it, just like all my other projects.
Then, on Tuesday, I got a reply back. Not from my wife or my brother, but from one of those random friends I’d dragged onto the list. She said something like, “Dude, that line about not lending money? I was literally about to send $50 to a guy I barely know. You saved me the hassle.”
That one message? That was the entire realization. It wasn’t about the accuracy or the professional polish. It was about making the information useful, practical, and accessible without putting someone in debt. It was the complete opposite of that $150 phone scam.
I’ve been writing it ever since. I still only post five bullet points. I still use the free email service. And I still write it on a Sunday afternoon, fueled by coffee and a refusal to ever pay for a “Certified Cosmic Clarity” badge again. It’s a total grind some weeks, but when you see those sign-up numbers going up, and you realize you’re giving away what other people are charging a fortune for, it makes the whole thing worth it. I took the expensive gatekeeping and I completely bypassed it. That’s the entire story.
