Hey there, Reader,

When Gwen first raised the possibility of me buying Velocity Generator in August, I had exactly one question:

Can I afford it?

Not, Do I want it?

I already knew that answer.

I'd spent four years as Gwen's CMO/COO, helping shape and run a program I genuinely believed was one of the best-kept secrets in group offers for women business owners.

I knew the members and frequently bragged about how amazing they all were. I'd seen what happened when women had the space to step back from their businesses, look at what was really going on, and make better decisions about what to do next.

And I'd wanted a strong group program in my own business for years. I'd just never quite gotten one off the ground.

So when the opportunity appeared, my heart was already there.

My bank account, on the other hand, had questions.

Buying a business wasn't on my 2026 bingo card

The possibility didn't even come up until August.

Gwen had accepted an executive role that was going to require her full attention, and continuing to own and operate Velocity Generator wasn't realistic.

We had about a week and a half between that first conversation and our meeting to discuss what a purchase might look like.

I showed up thinking Gwen was going to pitch me an offer.

Gwen showed up thinking I was going to pitch her one.

So that was fun.

My first suggestion was a profit-sharing arrangement, but the more we talked, the more complicated that became.

Gwen understandably didn't want the value of the business she'd built to depend on how well I operated it after she stepped away.

She also recognized the years of work I'd invested in helping build the program into what it had become.

We eventually agreed on a fixed purchase price, paid monthly over two years.

I signed the papers September 1.

And on October 1, Velocity Generator officially became mine.

Then came the part I couldn't control

At the time we signed, Velocity Generator had 14 members.

Based on the numbers I had, I figured I needed about 10 to stay for the purchase to make financial sense.

But I couldn't make that decision for them.

Gwen and I told the members about the transition together, and they had until September 10 to decide whether they wanted to continue.

I was nervous.

Especially about the retailers and makers.

Gwen has decades of experience in the retail world. I don't. And while craft industry veteran Heidi Kaisand would continue bringing that specialized expertise to our product-based business group, I wondered whether those members would still feel confident in the program with me as owner.

Almost all of them stayed.

I cannot tell you how much that meant to me.

In the end, nine of the 14 members chose to continue.

They knew me. But they didn't necessarily know me.

I'd worked with these women for years.

I'd reviewed their weekly reflections, supported their planning, and helped deliver the program.

But several members had no idea I owned a business outside of my work with Gwen.

They didn't know much about my professional background or my areas of expertise.

I'd spent so much time wondering whether members would feel they were losing something when Gwen stepped away that I hadn't really considered they might also be looking forward to what someone with a different set of strengths could bring.

That doesn't diminish what Gwen built. Not one bit.

It's simply a reminder that a change can involve both loss and possibility.

And that was a lovely surprise.

Apparently, I sweat from my eyelids

With nine members continuing, I needed to introduce Velocity Generator to more people.

I also needed to do it without spending the rest of the quarter building an elaborate marketing campaign.

So I invited people from my own community to an Open House on October 5.

Not a webinar with 47 slides, a slick value stack and a countdown timer.

Just an opportunity to see what Velocity Generator actually looks like, ask questions, and decide whether it might be a fit.

I've facilitated sessions for years. I've spoken to groups. I've taught workshops.

And I was still so nervous that my eyelids were sweating.

My eyelids.

I washed my face twice after the call ended and still felt sticky.

My daughter informed me that she could smell my nerves, although apparently I wasn't as bad as the boys in her seventh-period class.

Comforting.

The Open House lasted about an hour.

People asked thoughtful questions. We talked about how the program works and who it's designed to support.

Two attendees, both former clients of mine, scheduled fit calls afterward.

And both decided to join.

What stood out to me wasn't simply that they wanted the program.

It was why.

They trusted me to understand their individual businesses and help them make decisions that fit their circumstances.

Not hand everyone the same formula and tell them to follow it.

That's exactly the kind of work I value and want to continue doing.

“It's stupid-cheap, right?”

During one of those conversations, someone asked how I could possibly offer everything included in Velocity Generator for $397 a month.

My response?

“It's stupid-cheap, right? But it feels fair.”

And I meant it.

Members get a two-day Quarterly Tune-Up every quarter, weekly reflection and feedback, twice-monthly opportunities for live perspective, and access to a community of other established business owners.

That's a lot of support.

But I don't want Velocity Generator to become the one offer that's supposed to solve every problem in someone's business.

Even solopreneurs need outside help sometimes — a bookkeeper, a website expert, an administrative assistant, or specialized training or consulting.

I want members to have the financial room to get that help when they need it.

Velocity Generator's job is to help them step back, see what's happening, and make better decisions about where their time, energy, and resources belong.

Not to convince them they should get everything they need from me.

Five days after becoming owner...

On October 6 and 7, I facilitated my first Quarterly Tune-Up as the official owner of Velocity Generator.

I'd facilitated QTUs before, so the actual work wasn't new.

But being responsible for the entire experience?

That felt different.

I was suddenly paying attention to every link, every handoff, every little thing that might make the experience easier or harder for members.

One of my favorite things about the QTU is that members rarely leave with exactly the goals they thought they'd set when they arrived.

Debbie Floyd, who owns Dances with Wool in Virginia and has been a member for three years, put it beautifully:

“I can't think of a single Quarterly Tune-Up where I've gone in with an idea of what my goals should be and come out with exactly those same goals. The process helps me step back, look at what's really happening in my business, and recognize what actually needs my attention.”

That's what I want to protect: the promise of the work.

Not necessarily every system or every way things have always been done.

And that brings me to a question from a reader about welcoming VG members into my broader community without making them feel like the community they've built together is being swallowed up.

She described the difference between “welcome home” and “you've been absorbed.”

Whew.

I'm still figuring out how to navigate that distinction, and it's a question I’ll explore properly in a future email.

Two weeks in, here's what I know…

I don't want to be Gwen wearing a Tonya suit.

I actually said that in both Velocity Generator feedback sessions this week.

I want to honor what Gwen built while leading in a way that reflects my own values, experience, and goals.

Most importantly, I want to help the women who trust me with their businesses achieve their goals.

I've already made decisions differently than I expected and encountered expenses and logistical challenges I didn't anticipate.

Knowing how to run a business, it turns out, isn't quite the same as knowing everything involved in owning it.

But I've also been reminded how much I love this work and the women I get to do it with.

Turns out, this is going to take more than one email

When I invited questions about the acquisition, I thought I'd write one behind-the-scenes debrief.

Then the questions started coming in.

What did I ask before deciding to buy? What financial information did I need? How did I figure out everything that had to be transferred? And how do you bring an established community into another business without losing what made it special?

Those deserve more than a quick answer.

So I'm turning this into a three-part series.

Next up: The financial questions I had to ask before buying a business I already knew inside and out, including the difference between a business that looks profitable and one that has cash in the bank when you need it.

After that, I'll share the transition nobody sees: systems, billing headaches, unexpected expenses, familiar faces, and decisions made to protect the member experience.

Because buying a business isn't just one story.

It's about 37 stories happening all at the same time.

And I'm still living several of them.

Talk soon,

Tonya

P.S. If there's something about this acquisition you're curious about that I haven't covered, hit reply and ask. I'm clearly not running out of material anytime soon.

This email was written by Tonya Kubo (not AI). If you're receiving it, it means you have signed up for one of my offers in the vast expanse of the internet. Some links here are affiliate links, meaning I might make money if you use them to make a purchase.