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1(ish)-OCT-2024 | Jason Fried’s Announcement of Once

Author

Dan Bogachek
October 02, 2024

Jason Fried’s Announcement of Once

Something happened to business software.

You used to pay for it once, install it, and run it. Whether on someone’s computer, or a server for everyone, it felt like you owned it. And you did.

Today, most software is a service. Not owned, but rented. Buying it enters you into a perpetual landlord-tenant agreement. Every month you pay for essentially the same thing you had last month. And if you stop paying, the software stops working. Boom, you’re evicted.

For nearly two decades, the SaaS model benefitted landlords handsomely. With routine prayers — and payers — to the Church of Recurring Revenue, valuations shot to the moon on the backs of businesses subscribed at luxury prices for commodity services they had little control over.

Add up your SaaS subscriptions last year. You should own that shit by now. 🏁

  • The hook: simple and open-ended. The vagueness behind “something” creates a gap. Everything else that follows fills that gap in.

  • Great intentionality in the sentence length.

    • The short stuff is Grade 3 on the Hemingway App. Not a single extra syllable here.

    • And the big one? It fully commits — and its length leans into the “For nearly two decades” setup to really stretch the imagery.

  • Complete ideas, not complete sentences!

  • Written in “you” language. Man, especially those last few lines — beautiful.

You glance at your watch.

It’s 6:28. You’ve been at it since 3.
Crap. Your hot date is at 7. Running late. Sink shower it is.
Nowhere close to done editing…

“…at least all the ideas are laid out, so there’s that. Did I miss anything? I don’t think so? Ok, but how do I make it flow? I need to get the final draft to Stacey for design asap, team cutoff is at noon Thursday…”

You’ve spent dinner completely distracted. Your date just took off. You go home exhausted, plod to your desk, and crack open the laptop.

Or… it could go like this:

5:41 — you’re out of the shower and lip-syncing.
6:17 — dressed to the nines and zenned out.
7:03 — the sunset glints off your aviators as you smile hello.
8:36 — it actually feels like you’re hitting it off. Not just hot, funny to boot.
Next morning, 10:27 — polished draft ready in your inbox.
10:31 — Stacey messages back, “thanks, looks good!”

The difference?

You had Copygloss handle it yesterday afternoon.

For help with editing, email Dan:
[email protected].