Data + AI
We let an AI read 114,736 client records so you don't have to.
The single most valuable number in a performer's business is the one you never look at: the clients who would happily book you again if you simply asked. Our own account holds 114,736 client records going back decades. The problem was never the data. It was that nobody has an afternoon to go digging through it. So we made it something you can just ask about.
The question you never get around to
Every performer has it: the school that had you three years running and then you forgot to call. The corporate client who booked one great holiday party and never heard from you again. We've written before that a third to a half of clients will re-book if you reach back out — it's the highest-margin work you'll ever do. And it's the work that quietly never happens, because “go through the client list and figure out who's due” is a task that loses to literally everything else.
Ask it like a person
With the assistant pointed at your account, that afternoon of digging becomes a sentence:
That's not a canned report you had to set up in advance. It's a question, answered against your real bookings, the way you'd ask a sharp assistant who happens to have read every record.
It's reading your book, not making one up
Worth being clear about what's happening: the assistant is querying your own history over ActBook's API — real clients, real bookings, scoped strictly to your account and no one else's. It isn't inventing names or guessing at numbers. And because sending those texts needs the messaging permission, it shows you the draft first and sends nothing until you approve. Reading is free and safe; acting is deliberate.
The re-book note you meant to send last spring is worth more than most of the marketing you'll pay for. The trick was never writing it. It was remembering who to write to.
The nudge that becomes a tradition
ActBook already sends re-book nudges on its own — that's the whole idea behind the Repeat Business screen. What the assistant adds is the ability to go off-script: to ask the odd, specific question you didn't build an automation for, and act on the answer in the same breath. Last year's fair becomes this year's. The library that loved you gets the call. And you spent a sentence, not an afternoon.
More like this, occasionally.
The Working Act — short notes on getting and running gigs, from 40 years of booking our own. No spam, unsubscribe anytime.