Most of you guys know why I decided to hire a team. I was stressed out beyond belief. Anxious. Couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings. I didn’t want to be alone in this business anymore. I was booked six months out, so I figured the best thing to do would be to hire people to help me. Here’s a run-down of how that’s going so far:

May

Giddy with pleasure at the prospect of having help, I hire Julianne part-time. She is wonderful. I do happy dances around my living room. I don’t know what she does around her living room, but I’m pretty sure she’s happy, too. I get inspired to launch a new website that is supremely awesome and a service to the world.

At the end of the month, I hire Leah part-time. She had done some coding work for me in the past and had proven herself to be efficient, honest, and amazing. I do more happy dances around my living room. Life is goooooood.

June

I launch said website. It is beautiful. I have magical plans to take it where no other website has gone before. It will be amazing. It will be a must-read resource for anyone who has a website and wants to build communities and have astounding conversion rates. Whee!

My days are immersed in training Julianne how to read my mind. When that doesn’t work, I resort to “just ask me questions as you have them.” I think Julianne’s confused, but I figure it will wear off. She is awesome. Business is awesome. We’re all so awesome! I decide that in August, I will move my employees to full-time. Because that would be even more awesome.

July

I haven’t written much for the website, even though I have a Big Giant Plan to publish every Monday and Thursday on my pre-determined topics. Oh well. I’ll do that next month.

This month, I am much too busy figuring out what my actual process is. When it was all in my head, it seemed to work just fine. Now that I have to explain it to people and delegate parts of it, I realize that my process could be accurately defined by the phrase “seat of pants flyage”. It desperately needs fixing.

Also, I’ve started ramping up the amount of clients I am taking on in preparation for August’s plans to move the employees to full-time. I’m starting to get nervous about that. Will I really need to make $15,000/mo. just to survive? Oh well. Leap and the net will appear. That’s what I always say. And I do have some money saved up as a cushion.

August

Everyone’s full-time now! I’m offering benefits!

As the month goes on, I start to feel a little drained. I really don’t like having to make this kind of cash just to scrape by. Also, I’m working harder and longer than ever. How is this happening? I write a post about what it’s like to have $8,146.57 in your bank account (surprisingly, the answer is: not very fun when you have employees). I never publish it. I convince myself that it’s okay. The net will appear. The net will appear.

I’m still not writing much for the website. This sucks! One of the biggest reasons I hired people was so that I could write more and do more biz-growth type stuff. Maybe my business isn’t as scalable as I thought?

At the same time, good things are happening. John takes over as CEO and finally gets all of our systems ironed out and running smoothly. How infuriating. Somehow, in three weeks he has set up all systems to the point that they run on their own. He has nothing left to do. I am convinced he needs to teach a workshop on this.

September

I start to realize that the net isn’t appearing. I can’t pay myself. John and I take out our 401(k) just in case we don’t have enough to pay the employees. I’m working a ton. I’m crying a lot. I consider having my baby in my hand-me-down bed rather than pay all the doctor bills. Still not writing much on the blog. I’m in severe denial that I’m going to have to make hard changes. I’m in severe denial about a lot of things.

One day, I end up talking to my dad for hours on the phone. My dad is the smartest dad in the world. Really…he could beat up all your dads. He gives me tons of ideas. I realize I am not stuck. I realize I’m going to have to cut back everyone to part-time. I realize that most of my cash flow problems are originating from the fact that I have no boundaries established when it comes to client timelines. I also realize how some things are not scalable. Like me, for instance. I am not scalable.

I make the hard decisions. I decide to scale back to part-time starting October 1st. I decide to schedule clients for specific blocks of time in the calendar and feel really, really stupid that I didn’t think of this three years ago. I decide to take fewer clients at a time. Sweet, sweet relief.

So that’s where I’m at now. At the sweet, sweet relief part. I’m almost over the beating myself over the head part, but not quite. Like I said, business is not for sissies.

Secret things I’ve been doing while I’ve been too busy to tell you

Gwen Bell, Kelly Parkinson, and I are teaming up together. Gwen = social web superstar, Kelly = copywriting/marketing maven, and Me = the nerd who’s obsessed with content-strategy.

New LiteSite-ers currently get a free half-hour session with Gwen and a half-hour session with Kelly. At least until the end of September (Hey, don’t blame me if you just now heard about it. Get yourself on the sneak peeks and discounts list if you’re that upset…they heard about it weeks ago. You can do that at the top right corner of the website because I’m too lazy to put a form here.) Also, I only have 3 LiteSite spots available for the entire rest of the year, so you may want to grab that train quick if you’re coming.

I’m also getting ready to release the World’s Hottest Book Club for completely, totally free. Because I love books, and I especially love this book. I will leave you guessing as to what the book is, but I have already given you a HUGE hint.

The video series is still in process. I am beginning to re-think my idea of having everything professionally done. Julianne (film pro that she is) will probably kill me, but this is taking forever. But man…when you see them, you will know. Me and my trusty webcam could not have accomplished this. It was definitely worth doing, but probably not for every video.

And finally, the baby! If anyone cares about such things, it is doing well. And there are rumors that it is actually a she. I will know for sure in 4 more weeks, but emergency ultrasounds do not lie. Okay, that’s totally not true. They lie all the time. I’ll keep you posted. Especially on Facebook if you’re on there.

So what has really been going down in your business?

I know it’s great to do what you love for a living. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But the truth is, it’s hard sometimes. I think most of us are scared of talking about that part, because that’s not marketing. That’s not even unmarketing. That’s like anti-marketing. (I’m excited, because I think Naomi Dunford’s going to be talking about this more soon. I’m also terrified that she’s going re-iterate what she said in the past–see the part under “Never let ‘em see you sweat”–and that I’m doomed to the corner of the room that includes buck-toothed Linda and that guy who never stops talking about his state-of-the-art polycarbonate business cards.)

What do you think? If you can relate even in the tiniest bit to being scared out of your mind, I salute you. I’m with you. (And by the way, Confucius says “Never post on Friday evenings”, but I never liked Confucius. People who know everything are quite annoying. So please prove Confucius wrong and drop me a comment or an email or something. I’m not one to beg. But I really don’t like Confucius.)

As I sit here fully caffeinated, running on zero hours of sleep in the Starbucks down the street, solopreneurship is heavy on my mind. I’ve given it up. And if this fails, I cannot, will not go back.

It’s not that being on my own was that bad. In fact, for the first few years, I swore I would never hire anyone. With barely any overhead and my ability to do anything and everything to the epitome of perfection (a trait I’ve since discovered isn’t quite as good as it sounds), I was invincible. No economy could blow my umbrella inside-out. I was too nimble for that.

But around March of this year, I started struggling with anxiety in a massive way. My Type-A self has always had a bit of a nervous streak, but until recently I’ve counted it as an asset. When I am faced with a problem, my ever-ready mind keeps attacking it until it’s solved. My fear has given me a sort of edge. I’ve succeeded where others have failed because my mind just. won’t. quit.

But when my general feeling of apprehensive problem-solving turned into the feeling that I’d almost been hit by a car — 24 hours a day — I was forced to see my anxiety as it really was. Not as a normal part of my personality, but as something that was killing me. And if I let it, the business that I worked so hard to build.

In the beginning was the girl

2007 was my first year as a solopreneur — at least, for part of the time. After I quit my full-time corporate job, I took on three part-time jobs that would allow me the flexibility of working from home. By day, I was an event planner at a local university, data entry clone for a yearbook publisher, and editor for a budding author. By night, I designed and developed websites for myself — each one being God’s gift to the internet. I had spent the few years prior to that building up a blog, which I eventually sold, giving me the impression that I had a green thumb for online business.

It took me six months to realize that building a blog with later hopes of selling it was not an effective business plan. It hit me that I needed a product or a service to sell if I wanted to be self-employed any time soon. Enter S.Joy Studios.

The solopreneur that was not

By late 2007, I was fully in business. I quit two of my part-time jobs and worked hard to be seen as a “real” business. I said “we” a lot. I used big words. I had a blog (that no one read) that talked about all of the impressive things “we” were doing. I knew I needed credibility, but I didn’t believe in myself enough to make a dent in that department.

Still, people need websites, and I was a good designer. I eeked out a living over the next year and a half, and I started getting really interested in design accomplishing things. Without knowing it, I became a student of web strategy.

In late 2008, I quit my last part-time job. It was the scariest leap I had taken up to that point, but I was so stressed doing both that I knew it had to be the right decision. It was.

By that time, I had dropped the “we”. I had come up with an idea for packaging my services that, at the time, no one else was doing.

My service packages immediately tripled the number of people who wanted to work with me. I discovered Twitter and met Danielle LaPorte, who was the first person to tell me that I was a genius.

A paradigm shift

In early 2009, I decided to take another leap — to do a fire starter session with Danielle. It doesn’t sound like a big deal to me now, but at the time, I was a card-carrying Boot Strapper. Capitals. I didn’t spend money on anything. To pay someone $300 to talk to me for an hour felt like having surgery without being knocked out first. (Note: The price has since gone up.)

My session with Danielle LaPorte was a turning point. Something shifted in my brain. I finally knew what I stood for and what I didn’t. My tentative idea for a pre-built design solution came out fully-fledged — LiteSites grew wings. So many intangible notions took shape that day, most of which I can’t even explain. (By the way, I’m not affiliated with Danielle’s Fire Starter Sessions in any way. All of this is just my experience.)

Two weeks after our work together, I became booked solid and have been booked to over-flowing ever since. I launched LiteSites last summer, which was an immediate and earth-shattering success. I started planning the gold-digging excursion, which was my tippy-toe into sharing all of my hard-won knowledge via an online multi-media classroom format. Things were very, very good, and I was working very, very hard.

The burst of my solopreneur bubble

My flood of anxiety came at the worst possible time — during the launch for the excursion. I plowed through anyway. I kept on persevering throughout the excursion, which I was incredibly supported by — such an amazing group of people giving me positive feedback every single day. But by the end of April, I was done.

But I wasn’t done. I still had clients. Projects that I was excited about starting. I still had (and still have) stuff from the excursion I needed to wrap up. But I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t check my email. I couldn’t get on Twitter without this tidal wave of fear swallowing me up.

Surrender

I had lost all of the strength that I was so proud of. My stubborn independence and unwillingness to fail was taunting me. It felt like the whole world was watching me. I could do nothing but lay in my bed and cry buckets.

For a few weeks, the only way I could function was to pray that God would give me the motivation and desire to get out of bed. I would literally say, “I can’t do this by myself. I am not getting out of bed unless I get this sudden miraculous desire to do it.” Some days, it would really happen. I would lay there for 20 minutes and all of a sudden, my desire would shift, and I would find myself at a coffee shop, happily working away. Other times, that mysterious desire wouldn’t come, and I’d sleep until 12 and feel like a horrible person because of it.

Somehow, I started re-gaining my strength and made the decision to hire my first employees. Leah had coded for me in the past and was a dream and a half to work with. Julianne was one of those rare creative firecrackers — if I was going to have a team, she was going to be on it. And here we are.

What three years of solopreneurship has taught me

Life is different now. I still struggle with anxiety every single day, but I’m working through it with a counselor. My days are different now. The more people I hire, the more people I realize I need to hire.

But I don’t regret going at it alone for so long. Solopreneurship was an exciting, rewarding experience. And if I had waited until I had the resources to hire people, I would never have started. Still, if I could go back in time, there are a few things I would tell the younger me.

I think we’re all little walking love machines. It would be cool if we had glowy hearts on our chests that we could push to disseminate and receive the love we need. When we’re feeling low, our glowy heart would be dim. And then everyone would fill us up until we were day-glow bright again.

Gwen Bell posted this video a few weeks ago, and it’s one of those that I’m finding myself going back to over and over.

If you don’t have time to watch the whole thing, pay attention to 9:22 to 14:45. It talks about how technology has moved our society to a place where we’re seeking trust, meaning, and quality of life over our previously-held values of privacy, constant availability, and ease of use. Our use of technology has made us feel isolated and alone (our glowy hearts are dim!), and now we’re using it to foster meaningful connection.

So what does that mean for us?

I’ve been a pioneer in content-driven websites. Now that people are starting to get that, I’m paying attention to new practices that are solving some of the challenges we face with the content-driven model. It’s not good enough to be a pioneer. You have to know where things are going.

I like to watch people who have been online for a good while to sense the direction of where things are headed. When we’re new to working online, we tend to over-indulge in all of the candy. (But the candy! It might disappear! Must. eat.) But the more seasoned folks among us have over-indulged, under-indulged, and eventually come to a point of investing their time in the things that have longevity. Things I’m noticing now:

• A general repulsion for the exploitation of relationships. We’re funny and real and so transparent. We’ve gotten rid of the corporate lingo and have become comfortable being ourselves. Which is great. But if that becomes another marketing gimmick, we are sickened beyond belief. Which makes sense, given our society’s deepest needs are for trust, security, and meaning. Bad things happen when our deepest needs are exploited.
• Stepping up what we publish. Sick of excessive information and searching for real meaning, we are starting to take our content more seriously. Makes complete sense, and I’m glad it’s happening. Sometimes first drafts are okay to publish, but what would happen if we treated our work as art? What would happen if we polished and shimmied and shined everything we put out there, even to the detriment of frequency?
• Respecting when people disconnect. Our technology-free days are becoming intentional. We do not lose credibility when we disappear to work on our art. Rest is beginning to be respected.
• Instantly recognizing marketing cliches. Remember your favorite English teacher’s definition of cliche? Anything you’ve heard once. And it’s becoming even truer in online marketing. It is now so important to put on our horse-blinders and create strategy that is just ours.
• Having launch fatigue. Marissa Bracke wrote an extremely timely article on this last week. When our relationships with people online become 85% about what we’re launching or what other people are launching, we’re bound to get tired of all of the launching. It’s starting to happen, folks. Which is another reason to put on those blinders and do something no one else is doing. Including launching like no one else is launching.
• Appreciating the chopping block. We are tired of sifting through information. We want carefully edited direction. Instead of googling, we ask people on Twitter for their recommendations. When we visit a website, we don’t want everything in the sidebars — just a selection of what’s most important and useful. Instead of an exhaustive list of books on marketing, we would rather have Ted’s top five. It’s not enough to be simple. We want hand-picked. If you build a reputation of hand-picking the best stuff and chopping off the rest, people will come to you as a trusted resource.
• Going back to professionalism (a little). When we tossed out corporate crap, we tossed out a lot of…crap. But there was also a lot of good stuff that went out with the trash. Like quality. Just because it’s personal, doesn’t mean that we can shill crap (read Amy Hoy’s excellent article on this…and don’t worry. She informs me that it’s Nutella.). We need quality photography. Quality writing. Quality packaging. Quality products. If we’re going to continue to flourish in the online space, we can’t become known for over-priced, over-hyped crap.

So that’s what I’ve been thinking about while I’ve been being quiet. Love, crap, and sandwiches. Also, that LiteSites are back from vacay. And I’ve hired two people who I love and who you will meet very soon. And also that I need to hire a third, but I’m not a fan of being too big for my britches.

Love. To you.

I feel like this is one of those awkward moments where I was supposed to call but didn’t, and then I run into you in the grocery store and say “So…” while shuffling my feet.

So…

I’m being quiet right now. That’s the gist of it. I have a new project in the works that is going to change things up around here quite substantially, but I’m not pushing it.

I’ve discovered something about web strategy. First, it is so hard to be perfect at it when you’re a solopreneur. Either you have no clue what to do next, or you have too much to do next. Or you have an elaborate plan that would work if only you ran on batteries. Or jet fuel.

But unfortunately, we are not robots. We get sleepy, excited, overwhelmed, inspired, jealous, triumphant, and all of these other things that interfere with a well-run machine. I think that’s why 9 to 5 exists. I think that’s why corporate is so…corporate. When you take out the heart, things are much more predictable.

My gold-digging excursion left me people-shy. Me, the girl who loves performing, teaching, speaking, writing, and generally sharing with masses of people. I’m overwhelmed with the attention and interaction. I can’t explain it, but it’s there. And it hasn’t gone away yet, even though the excursion has been over for two weeks.

I generally share a lot around here. I share what’s made me successful, strategies that work, things to avoid. And those things are important. But I’m learning that being perfect in business can not only make you successful; it can also drive you crazy.

I’m hiring my first helper in a few days. Not just talking about it, but actually doing it. I’m focusing on filling my well instead of producing so much. Yes, I’m launching my new thing soon, but I’m not putting a date on it. And I’m actively ignoring the voices in my head that are telling me “You’re not communicating enough; you’re not building enough relationships; you’re not following your own freaking rules.”

They’re my rules. They’ve worked for me and countless others, but I’m not going to die if I break them for a month. Or even two. (Just keep telling yourself that, Sarah.)

Hopefully my people-block will be cleared soon. But even if it isn’t, I’ve learned a few very important things. First, hiring people is the only way to develop any kind of consistency without killing yourself to be perfect. Second, there is time. There is always time. So even if you have to do this alone, don’t dig those spurs in too deep. Your workhorse-self can only sprint for so long before you sputter to a stop.

And I am realizing that I’m not the only one. As I’m reading through all of your submissions to my question last week, I’m discovering that we all have hurts and pain in our businesses. We all have stuff that we struggle with. Maybe that’s uber-obvious to everyone, technically, but when you start reading real stories about real stuff that’s happening right now, it all becomes much more…real.

The pursuit and the prize

Starting a business — especially one that’s gorilla-glued onto your life’s passion — is a love story. In the beginning, you’re feverishly trying to catch their attention. You’re doing anything you can (and you’re doing most of it wrong). That part is painful enough in itself, but you just keep doing it, and eventually you do get some sort of attention. And maybe it works out. Maybe it’s a long-term, forever kind of thing.

Now you can go in one of many directions. You can delight in being together. Savor long dinners, bring flowers, relish the companionship. Always looking for ways to bring more joy and fullness to the relationship, but being comfortable in what it is now.

Or, you can start getting afraid of losing this great thing that you’ve got. You might start smothering your companion by being there every minute of the day, wearing yourself out in the process. Or you might start enviously checking out other, prettier people who walk in the room. You might start to try to keep up with them. Or worse, out-do them in your lover’s eyes.

Or maybe you finally got the guy or gal, which was going to fix everything, and then you realize that it absolutely doesn’t. And it was your only hope and now what?

It’s all ick. And it’s all based on fear.

The one thing I know

I’m secretly terrified that by writing posts like this, I’m going to be shouting into a cavernous, echo-y hole of “Oh crap. That sucks for you.” I’m scared that I’m going to end up branding myself as “that web person who cries all the time.” Or worse, “the whiney girl who got what she wanted and then started complaining about it on the internet.” So not professional, right?

But I believe in confession. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I do. I believe in bringing things to the light and watching magic happen. And mostly, I believe that I was meant to be here, doing this, now. Maybe not the cry-in-public part. But the passionate, love affair with my work part.

I’m going to continue accepting your confessions for another day or so — if you get this by email and you couldn’t see the form last week, you’ll have to click through. It’s all anonymous. My hope is that when I publish some of the answers, it will help give us all some perspective on the holes that maybe we can help fill.

Today was awful. I can actually say it was the worst day in the history of my entrepreneurial career. One of those days where the clouds are not only falling from the sky, but they are on fire.

It wasn’t any one conversation or thing-that-went-awry. It was everything. And it made me realize how dangerous it is to associate your sense of self so closely with your business. Because when those flaming arrows come falling from the sky, you have no helmet. Not even knee pads.

I’m not proud to admit it, but today I cried. Torrentially. (I think I just made that word up.) Despite the fact that Chris Brogan and my buddy Sparky Firepants think I’m doing it right, despite the fact that everyone is being so darned supportive and awesome, there are a few people who think I’m doing it wrong. And I don’t know why that sucks so bad, but it does.

Maybe you’ve had a day like that?

This is for you if anyone’s ever thrown flaming darts at your head (and yeah…this is for me)

• You are doing it right.
• If someone throws darts at you, don’t throw darts back. Even if it’s practically necessary, or if it’s just a subtle bit of sarcasm or eye-rolling. Darts are like boomerangs and eventually come back to poke the thrower in the eye.
• It’s good to look for the truth in criticism, but if there is any, and after you’ve extracted it, don’t dwell on it. Ask yourself what’s the best thing you can do now, and do it.
• “I don’t want to disappoint people” is not a good reason to say yes. YOU are worth saving from disappointment.
• You can’t run your business for everyone else. Even though you thrive on letting other people benefit from your super-powers and keeping things humming with integrity and style, you’ve got to ultimately meet your own needs first.
• Don’t give up on people. If you spend your life mis-trusting and second-guessing those around you, you’ll soon be throwing flaming arrows of your own.
• Leaps are always worth the jump. Especially if you’re leaping from a burning building, and even if there is no (visible) net.
• The pain that you’re feeling now is real, but subjective. Go watch Cinderella Man or read The Diary of Anne Frank one more time. Perspective is good.
• Struggle is necessary for the growth of your character. So rejoice in the struggle — character is priceless.
• All is well, and all will be well. (My favorite phrase on the planet.)

I can’t say I feel a ton better after writing that, but tomorrow is a new day. And I’ve still got our gold-digging excursion to look forward to, so I’m beyond excited about that. Thanks guys, for all of your shout-outs and encouragement this past week. I’m excited that you’re excited; we’re going to have a grand old time.

And now back to the steak and shrimp stir fry that John made for me…maybe “eat a good meal with people who adore you” should have been on the top of that list.