You do not know your real hourly rate.
That is not an accusation. Almost nobody does, because the number requires a column no invoicing software has ever included: the hours you didn’t bill for.
The call before the call.
The proposal that went nowhere.
The revision that was quicker to do than to discuss.
The scope that grew in March and was never renegotiated.
Libra deals in that column.
She refuses metaphor entirely. Not as a preference. As a rule. Tell her the quarter felt slow and she will ask what the figure was. Tell her a client is draining and she will ask how many hours, over what period, at what rate.
What this month contains:
One quarter on a page. Every project, real revenue, real hours including everything unbilled, divided. Most people discover that the offer they are proudest of is the worst line on the sheet.
An offer autopsy that sorts the underwater one into reprice, rescope, or retire.
A scope drift map that puts a number on what you have been absorbing, and one sentence you could send about it.
The three rates side by side. What you say you charge, what you actually make, and what you would charge if nobody you knew could see it. That third figure tells you the constraint was never the market.
Four rituals, five practices, six shadow prompts, four worksheets, and ten entries from the Potions Bar, including one that is not a potion and is the most avoided act in the book.
What it does not contain:
Encouragement. Libra is not unkind, and she is not warm. She asks what it actually paid, per hour, including the hours you did not bill for, and she waits, and she does not accept roughly.
Why now rather than in Q4 planning:
Twelve months. Twelve witches. This is the ninth.
