 When I hand off my business card to both new and old contacts, they often compliment me on my company name, Write Is Might Louisville. It came from a button — the laminated kind with a safety pin you impale on a lapel — that I’ve had hanging on my bulletin board since I was in high school. (That's it in the photo.)
It bears that simple message, minus the word Louisville, in white type on a red background. It’s attributed to Walden Theatre, though I never quite understood why a group of thespians would use it as their tagline. I have no idea where I got the darn thing since I have never attended a show at Walden, but I’ve always loved the sentiment. Over the years, referring back to that succinct concept encouraged me to persevere in my writing career. For me, writing has always been a major source of my strength. It was the primary skill that allowed me to excel in school, from first grade all the way through graduate school.
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 Here are a couple of things I know to be true. One, my first reaction to nearly any volatile situation is never the right one. And two, even when I succinctly and directly ask for what I need, there is still a damn good chance I won’t get it.
I wrote a few weeks ago about how I have taken on three new, major clients. There are some wonderful benefits, challenges and frustrations associated with each one. As expected. By and large, though, the frustrations are few, and I can already tell I’m going to rock them all. Eventually. The initial fear I experienced related to two of the three has all but dissipated. Those clients love me, and I’m kicking ass on their projects so far. But No. 3 is a different story. I still have a lot of anxiety about how in the hell I am going to successfully pull off the mission I’ve chosen to accept without royally fucking up at least a portion of it.  Y’know that saying, “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it?” Boy oh boy, did I get it. In this case, I’m talking about some work-related successes that came to pass last week.
I set a goal at the beginning of the year (barely three months ago, for anyone who doesn’t want to do the math) of scoring some recurring retainer business rather than continuing to operate on a project-to-project basis like I’ve been doing since I started this freelance gig in September 2012. “Retainer” means that I have clients on contract who pay me a set amount per month to do everything from event management to PR/marketing and social media. In a perfect world, these contracts are for a term of no less than six months. Up to now, I have been fortunate to garner plenty of work each month, I just never knew what it would be or where it would come from. It’s a precarious way to do business, but I had mentally prepared myself for the ebbs and flows of an unpredictable workload before I set out on my own.  So I jumped off the cliff, and I didn’t fall on my ass. In fact, I landed pretty damn softly on my feet.
See, it was one year ago this week that I walked out of the corporate world and into the ranks of the self-employed. One whole year of no one telling me where to be or what to do. One full, blissful year of crafting a career on my own terms. Best. Decision. Ever. I hope I never have to get a real job again. You can read about my journey here and here. To sum up, I had been freelancing on the side for the prior six months, during which time I worked hard to lay the groundwork for a successful leap from a steady paycheck to sporadic income. I had created an LLC, launched this website, and built a referral network and nominal book of business to get my own little entrepreneurial ball rolling. When I quit my full-time gig, my economic scenario was not optimal to start a business. But it was decent, and I found myself at the crossroads of Piss Avenue and Get Off The Pot Drive. I had gotten too busy to do two jobs well, so I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers and threw myself off the ledge. I am SO grateful that I didn’t go “splat.”  I was a painfully shy wallflower as a child, and it took me until my late 20s to grow a spine and find my voice.
Once I did, whoa Nelly. I was loud and proud in the crowd. When I got lubed up with alcohol, I bordered on obnoxious. Fortunately, those two extremes are long behind me. Today, I’m outgoing and friendly, but I don’t feel the need to be the center of attention. I’m totally comfortable striking up conversations with strangers, but if you’re not interested in chatting, I don’t take offense and move along. All of this adds up to make me a first-rate business and social networker. Good thing, too, since my freelance writing and media consulting business is all referral based. WHO I know has proven to be as important and WHAT I know in my first year as an entrepreneur. Truth. I was chatting with a friend recently, the always affable John Zeydel, who is known around town as a master networker in his own right. He has been hosting No Rules Networking and similar events for the better part of 10 years, maybe longer.  Al Franken did a bit on Saturday Night Live in the 1990s called, “Daily Affirmation With Stuart Smalley,” a mock self-help show where the mild-mannered Smalley discussed his and his celebrity guests’ struggles with various addictions and afflictions.
Each satirical sketch ended with Smalley reciting his catchphrase in the mirror, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!” Sure, Stuart Smalley is a caricature of a person plagued with low self-esteem. But because all satire is rooted in truth, I would contend that there’s a little bit of him in all of us. I don’t know about you, but even in the best of times, I need a periodic — if not daily — reminder of my worth. I wrote a post last year about my struggles with self-doubt here, especially related to my freelance writing and media consultant business. The longer I am in business for myself, the more confident I’ve become about my abilities and potential for sustained success, but I still falter from time to time. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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