Last year, my company brought in a quarter of a million dollars. This may not be much in the larger context of Business with a capital B, but it’s surreal to me. (Another thing that’s surreal to me…where did all that money go? But that’s another topic for another day.)
So why did I shut down operations and start a new company? Some days I think, God I have no idea. We had more inquiries and work than we could handle. Strategic web design is easy to comprehend, and it’s something that everybody needs. In hindsight, there were so many small tweaks I could have made that would have fixed the running-ourselves-into-the-ground problem (like…unapologetically raising our prices to what they needed to be, for one thing; like…well, I won’t go into all of that; we’d be here all day).
But I believed that I could do better. The beauty of being an entrepreneur is that you’re creating what you want to see in the world. You have the power and possibility to create whatever you want to create. If my business was my own personal utopia…if I was creating this thing, then why wasn’t I creating something amazing? Not just amazing for other people, but amazing for me? Amazing for the people that worked with me?
So I did it. I started over. I figured out exactly how I wanted to work, despite how the industry typically operates, despite what I thought my audience could pay for, and I created a new, deeper way of serving based on that. So now I do two things: I’m building digital nations with A Small Nation, and I’m building my own personal body of work, starting with the Tour de Bliss.
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My work is hard to pin down right now. I’m a tour guide to finding digital bliss…who does that? And I build digital nations around meaningful work…what? It makes me a little uncomfortable, even though I defend my right to be an eclectic nomad, designing things that fix problems that I desperately want to solve.
The reason it’s bugging me right now though is because I know the power of being very clear about what you offer. And I like power.
If I stood up right now and pronounced myself the Grand Poobah of Content Strategy, then you would know what to do with that. I would create this whole website around content strategy, I would answer all of your questions, and give you the greatest free tutorials and how-tos. I would write a book. Get high-dollar consulting and speaking gigs. Sell e-books and digital courses. There aren’t many people talking specifically about content strategy (and no one who thinks about it the way I do), so I would be meeting a very clear need in the marketplace. I would have a strong platform to do whatever I wanted…well, under the umbrella of content strategy anyway.
Instead, I choose to make things that “solve problems”. Which is a terrible positioning statement. It’s like saying you “do things”. If one of my clients said they wanted to build a nation around that, I would say…you’re doing this the long, hard, stupid way. Please be nice to yourself and stop.
But I do it anyway.
In my heart, I’m a designer. Even though I don’t live up to my own design standards (I have a short-list all the way to California of designers I envy), even though I declared myself no longer a designer (because I’m never ever satisfied with my work), everything I do is based around finding new ways to solve problems. And that’s what designers do. I have as good a chance of abdicating my designer role as I have of swearing off buttered toast.
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Business is about one thing: offering something that people need. Bonus points if they already know they need it without any convincing. Extra bonus sparklepoints if they’re discovering the offer at the exact moment that they desperately perceive their need. That’s it. Everything else is just…icing. And probably even getting in the way.
There’s a word for this everything-else-getting-in-the-way: inefficiency. And that is one of the flying objects that I’m currently working on as I enter this Tour de Bliss on Monday. (A flying object, by the way, is something that keeps hitting you over the head in your business. Something that hurts. Something that feels random and unavoidable but isn’t.)
If I am a go-between for the products and services I offer, there is a layer of friction there. For example, people come to me right now because of who I am as a person. They’ve heard about me, or we’ve had some kind of interaction or relationship. They don’t so much care about the business that I’m in, because I have positioned myself as a person who “does things”. They’re happy when I do offer something, because it’s always big and interesting and inspiring, but they didn’t come to me expressly to buy it. In fact, they have no idea what I’m offering next.
That’s inefficiency.
Inefficient isn’t always terrible…there is a certain amount of inefficiency built in if you’re going to be an artist. But in business, inefficiency is costing you money. Know that. Be deliberate about your inefficiencies.
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I’m still not sure what to do about all the inefficiencies I’ve unintentionally introduced as I’ve created these things I wanted to see in the world. My plan is to keep observing and serving. And also, at least temporarily, embrace doing things the long, hard, stupid way.
Because when you’re doing something that you know isn’t the best way to be doing it and everything still happens just like you hoped it would? Well, there’s magic and wildness in the kind of faith that stirs up. It proves that business is more art than science, which is why I keep coming back for more.
(P.S. Today’s the last day to sign up for the group Tour de Bliss, and there are only 2 spots left. If you’re coming, register here.)