Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?

Now?

What about now?

I totally get like this every year.

At the first sign of summer, I get a serious case of can’t-wait-anymore-ness.

I have flowers on the brain.

You heard me.

Flowers.

Buying them.
Planting them.
Filling the porch with them.

It’s like the official sign that summer’s finally really here.

That and lightning bugs.

I never really cared about flowers until I owned a house.

And had an office that looks right out onto the barren boring empty porch.

Suddenly flowers became a big deal.

Again with the flower crack

This year was no exception.

I was totally itching for my flower fix.

Two days and twenty-two pots later, my itch got scratched.

Ahhhh.

Marigolds. Impatiens. Celosias. Angelonias.

Pure gorgeousness.

Oh, wait.

Somehow in my flower-fueled frenzy I ended up snagging two pots of fuchsias.

And you know that little plastic care tag?

The one that tells you what to do so the flowers don’t croak?

Um, yeah. I read it. When I got home.

Totally a case of too-little-too-late.com.

Because it said fuchsias need to be kept in full shade.

Full shade?
Dammit.

There’s no shade in our yard. Like not even a little.

And the porch is pretty much all sun, all the time.

Gak.

Who does that?

I didn’t exactly want to take the flowers back.

I mean, seriously.
Who does that?

So I called Mom.

She knows a lot about flowers. She’ll know what to do.

Her answer?

“They’re going to die. Probably in two days. Maybe three.”

Dammit.
Again.

Dead flowers? Totally not the plan.

So I told my wife about it.

About how Mom basically told us to prepare for a flower funeral.

And how we should probably start thinking about what to get to replace the doomed fuchsias.

Her response?

“They’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

So I watched. And waited.

Curious when these hawt pink nuggets would give up the ghost and return to the Great Garden In The Sky.

I waited.

And waited.

Sweetness

Guess what?

They’re not dead.

In fact, they’re better than not dead.

They’re growing.
Thriving.
Doin’ their flower-ey thang.

My wife was right.

Or maybe we were just lucky.

I don’t know.

But this isn’t really about rightness or luck.

This is about perspective.

Worldview.

The default lens through which people see things.

The thing that shapes everything else.

Can I get a refill?

Mom’s a worrier.

The secretary of the Glass Half-Empty club.

A firm believer in the chicken apocalypse.

She sees problems that don’t exist.
And then spends a ton of time + energy fixing them.

My wife?

The exact opposite.

Totally chill. Almost never worries. Optimistic in a non-annoying way.

She’s all, “Apocalypse? Pshaw!”

So of course they had two totally different answers.

Because they have two totally different perspectives.

But we all have metaphorical fuchsias, don’t we?

Hopes.
Dreams.
Half-cocked plans.

Something we leap toward in a moment that’s equal parts inspiration + naïveté.

(That’s usually how the best stuff is born, isn’t it?)

Maybe it’s your new Thing you want to get off the ground.

Or your blooming business that you’re trying to make bloomier.

Or that itty bitty seed you’re still clutching in your sweaty, terrified palm.

We all have something.

Perception check in aisle four!

So before you ask somebody for care + feeding tips, check your sources.

Step back and peep their perspective.
Gut check their worldview.
Inventory their bandwidth.
Do they even have the eyes to grok your vision?

If not, keep moving.

Find someone else. Go fish.

Because asking these folks for help never ends well.

They’ll try to convince you to stay where you are.
To give it up.
To do something safe.

They’ll have you watching and waiting.

Prepping for imaginary funerals. Writing unnecessary eulogies.

Your mojo is needed elsewhere.

And it’s not that they’re trying to be unhelpful.

But worrying and Chicken-Little-ing and eulogizing is their baseline.

That’s where they’ve pointed their compass.

Which means every destination is inevitably the same.

Don’t get off there

You’re not going where they’re going.

So pick people with a different perspective.

I don’t mean people who will drown you in rahrah + sugar.

But people who believe in possibilities. In potential.

People who grok the bigness of your Thing.
And the power of your mojo.

People who believe that human beings can make unfuckingbelievable things happen.

People who understand that impossible is a sign of small vision. Not a statement of
fact.

Knock on those doors while you’re watering away.

Because your Thing deserves a fighting chance.

And perspective is everything.

Have you asked the wrong people for feedback?
What happened?
How did it affect your Thing?
How do you sort out who to ask now?

Completely + totally fabulous.

Some cool stuff shook out of my brain after the call.

Here it is.

(File under: marketing)
(See also: applies to life + pretty much everything else)

p.s. Yep. More sweariness in the video. It’s almost become a tradition by now.

(Psst. If you’re reading this in a reader, click through to view the wunderbar.)

What does marketing-created-from-trust look like?
How would your marketing change if you started from there?
What would you ditch? What would you start doing?
How much different would you feel putting your Thing out there?
What would buying from someone who totally trusted you feel like?

Still going.
Still fabulous.
Still generating tons of smartness.

So we’ve covered the suck – here, here and here.

Today it’s time for solutions!

Which means reframing.
And matchmaking.
And fireworks + lurve + metaphorical sexytime.

Oh, and did I mention that there’s a big surprise at the end of the video?

Yep.
And it’s hawt.

If you’re the impatient sort, there are surprise-related deets right down there.

But don’t skip the video.

It has a nugget of awesome that you can use today – like, right now – to make marketing easier + more effective (read: make more moolah).

And, in keeping with tradition, the video has some swear-ey bits. Pull out the earbuds, cubicle pals.

(Psst. If you’re reading this in a reader and can’t see the video, click click to catch the goodness.)

No cost. No pitch. No catch. No lie.

An eight minute video rapping about solutions?

Nice.
Fine.
Good.

A totally free, no-strings-attached teleparty full of 75 minutes of non-stop smartness?

Epic.

So I asked four of my crazy smart friends who grok + rock the don’t-be-gross-and-still-make-the-monies thing if they wanted to host a shindig.

We hop on the phone.
And talk about what works for us.
And how you can use it with your Thing.
We invite you.
And we party like it’s 1999.

And by crazy smart friends I mean Chris Zydel + Susannah Conway + Alexandra Franzen + Lisa Baldwin.

I mentioned the totally free part, right?

And none of us are pitching anything.

This isn’t a teaser for a product or class or program.

Nope.

We’re doing this for one reason: To help you rock your Thing.

Here’s some of the stuff we’ll be rapping about:

• How to promote yourself like a Victorian dandy (aesthetics! wit! charm! luxury! sensual details!)
• Why you maybe shouldn’t be selling anything to begin with (or at least, not what you think you should be selling)
• How you can know absolutely nothing about marketing & selling and still sell-out your classes
• Why showing your knickers can be the best selling tactic of all (aka Just be your true messy vulnerable self)
• How generosity, integrity, treating your customers as whole human beings and operating out of the true spirit of service can generate more business than you know what to do with
• Why staying small and going for depth not breadth in your customer relationships can be way more successful (and feel much more satisfying) than continually striving for the ever elusive more
• How your thing can reach best seller status with a totally take-it-easy launch
• Why relationships matter more than selling, even – especially! – when there’s major moolah involved

See?

Told you it was hawt.

The deets:

who: Me, Chris, Susannah, Alexandra, Lisa + YOU!
what: 75 minutes of pure smartness + pragmatic how-to + your questions + our answers
when: Monday, June 6th at 2:00 pm eastern
where: A teleconference line near you
why: Because you don’t have to throw grenades to make the monies
how: By plugging your deets into the stylish box below

It’s on like Donkey Kong, baby.

p.s. Yeah, there will be a recording. But it’s no substitute for the real thing. So try to make the live call.

p.p.s. Don’t forget to drop a comment after your sign up. Thanks, you.

Flickr credit – fs999

A crazy smart discussion is shaking out.

And I’m a thousand kinds of stoked at the smartness everybody’s bringing.

So let’s keep it going.

Today: What do secret woodland lairs + sales pages + the Illuminati have in common? Click it, yo.

p.s. This is the least swear-ey video so far. Probably still not safe for the cubicle though.

p.p.s. If you have no clue what any of this is about, go here and here.

{Sneak peek: Next week – solutions! I have them. Stay tuned.}

How does the whole I-have-a-secret thing land with you?
What does it stir up in your inner bits?
Has it caused you to fork over the monies?
How did it work out?
Sellers-of-stuff: How do you talk new + smart + awesome without playing the secrets card?

But I want to keep the discussion going.

The concussion grenade video really struck a chord.

Lots of megasmart comments.
Lots of tweetage.
Lots of emails.

This is important stuff.

And some really good things are coming out of this.

So let’s keep talking.

Today: A short rap about a ridiculously common marketing thing that totally reeks of craptasticness.

p.s. This video? A little swear-ey. Again. Still not safe for spinning at the cubicle.

How do you feel when someone goes all swim-with-da-fishes on you?
What does this fishiness kick up inside of you?
How do you want sellers-of-stuff to talk to you?
And, peeps who sell stuff, how do you rock your Thing without resorting to this?

Metaphorically speaking.

More on that soon.

Today: A shortish video* on a commonish marketing thing that just oozes craptasticness.

* It’s a tiny bit longer than I wanted. But this feels important.

p.s. The video’s a little swear-ey. If you were thinking of watching it at a cubicle at work, you might want to rethink that.

How does this kind of marketing land with you?
What alternatives would you (as someone who buys stuff and/or sells stuff) like to see?
How do we make sure we’re using our marketing superpowers for good?

A project I was seriously stoked about.

When the idea initially landed, I was all hell yeah! about it.

I was totally amped.

And I immediately set forth scribbling a ton of notes in my Moleskine like a mad man.

Writingwritingwriting.
ZOMG.
Must. Catch. It all.

I felt the momentum.

Everything was zing-ey.

Life was good.

At least for a second.

Poof. Dead. Gone.

Then things got decidedly unzing-ey.

Because I got in the way.

I started thinking about the thing.

And how I’d probably need forever to make it happen.

And how I totally didn’t have that kind of time anywhere in the calendar.

And how this whole thing pretty much just sucked now.

Because the thing had mysteriously turned into a Thing.
And now I can’t do it.
At least not until, like, 2014.
And, by then, who cares?

That hawt hell yeah? Gonzo.

And the momentum? Buhbye.

And all the zing? Later, tater.

The zing was dead.

And it was all my fault.

Zing killer.

Quick! Look that way.

So the thing-that-was-now-a-Thing just sat there on my to do list.

Taunting me.
Torturing me.
Throwing off some solid stink eye.

I felt totally acked about it.

Because I wanted to do it. And I couldn’t. But I wanted to.

The guilt. Ohmygawd.

Eventually I just kind of avoided looking at that whole chunk of my list.

Lalala.
I can’t hear you.

The suck. It burns.

Why not?

Fast forward to last week.

The thing-turned-Thing popped into my head.

And I had a little nugget of free time.

A couple of hours.

So I figured, why not?

I’d play around. See what I could get done.

Probably not much.
But who cares?

Two hours later, the heart of it – the part I thought would take forever – was done.

A few days after that, the whole thing was done.

It’s gorgeous.
It rocks.
And I love it like crazy.

Turns out the thing wasn’t a Thing after all.

Huh.

Nosh. Kill. Suck.

Why do I do this?*

Turning things into Things.

It’s so insanely unhelpful.

The whole cycle.
It sucks.

It starts by noshing on my energy + killing my zing.

Which throws me into full-on avoidance mode.

Then cue the shame + the guilt.

Which sucks up even more energy.

Rinse + repeat ad nauseam.
With an emphasis on the nauseam.

The whole thing is totally unawesome.

And totally unnecessary.

* This is not a real question. I know why I do it. It’s mostly related to the perfectionist stuff. And the Chicken Apocalypse stuff. And the what-if-everyone-hates-it-and-thinks-I-suck? stuff. All legit. But, oy.

Oooh! This!

I’ve been drumming on this a lot.

Which is my way of digging deep + understanding stuff.

I wanted a trick. A key. A secret decoder ring.

Something to help me catch myself when I needlessly start making a thing a Thing.

Because some things actually are Things.
But a lot of things aren’t.

And I found a delicious nugget of aha! nestled between the booms.

Here it is:

It’s all about the space.

If I’ve made a thing a Thing and put too much space around it, the zing goes buhbye.

It gets swallowed up.

But if the thing really is a Thing, the extra space amps up the zing.

{Psst. This is the flip side of the whole making space thing.}

It’s ultimately about creating the perfect container.

And the perfect container always magnifies the mojo.

Sharing is caring

I kind of love this aha!

Because it’s so simple.
And so right on.

When I look back at the pile of things-that-turned-into-Things I see where too much space ate the zing.

Again and again and again.

It’s all super clear now.

Which rocks.
Because this stuff is messy.

And this is me sharing the secret decoder ring with you.

You know, just in case you’re turning things into Things.

Which sucks.
Because the world needs your zing.

So check the space around your thing.

Adjust accordingly.

And go forth with maximum zing!

When do you make a thing a Thing?
Have you done it with any of your current things?
Or do you do the opposite and not give your thing enough space?
Too much. Or too little. It sucks either way.

Flickr credit – Leo Reynolds

Have I mentioned that I’d rather poke my eyes out with dirty chopsticks than get in front of a camera?

My first choice happens to live a kajillion miles away.

Sob.

So after nursing that heartbreak, I was left to ferret out some local folks.

I asked around for recommendations.

I searched the googles.

I did all the usual stuff.

And, after much ferreting, I found eleven possibles.

Boudoir? Um, no.

So I poured some chai and commenced poking around each photographer’s website.

Checking out their work.
Checking out their vibe.
Blahblahblah.

I eliminated five from jump street.

Two who only photograph babies.

Cute.
But not what I need.

One guy who does boudoir stuff.

So not what I need.

Another person whose website looked like Flash threw up all over it.

Seriously?

And one guy who seems to have turned high-fashion douchebaggery into an art form.

Dear gawd.

So, post-poking, I ended up with seven contenders.

14.285714% = FAIL

I sent emails or left voicemails for all seven with the quickness.

And, when I did, I made it a point to be uber clear.

Who I was.
What I needed.
When I needed it.
How to reach me.

And I waited.

And waited and waited and waited.

Do you know how many people got back to me?

One.

The other six just didn’t bother.

Not even a quick thanks-but-I-can’t.

I even contacted one photographer twice. Because I really dug their work.

Zero. Zilch. Zip.

Houston, we have a problem.

Don’t slip on your swoon

I totally grok how easy it is to get swept up in dropping major coin on biz-ey stuff.

Piles of books.
And courses.
And info products.
And business coaches.

I’ve done it myself. A lot.

And sometimes that stuff is really helpful. And really valuable. And really necessary.

But sometimes we miss the common sense stuff.

The obvious shit.
The free shit.
The boring shit.
You know, the basics.

Newness is never in short supply.

It’s seriously tempting to chase after fresh systems + secrets + insider magics.

And it’s easy to get swoon-ey about The Next Big Thing.

That shiny new nugget.
The one everyone’s talking about.
With that sales page that just makes you ache.

But the shine can be blinding.

The flash gets distracting.

While we’re sitting through teleclasses + digging through PDFs + hooking up the rigging for that brand new system that will make us filthy rich, internet famous and loved by millions, something kind of craptastic happens.

We let the tried-and-true stuff slide.

Like, you know, getting back to people who are interested in what you do.

Even if you can’t help them right then.

Shore it up

Here’s the challenge with tried-and-true.

It’s unfun.

And unsexy.

And kind of obvious.

Which also makes it totally snooze-ey.

But that doesn’t make it any less essential.

Because this is what shores up* the foundation of your business.

Getting back to a would-be client might not be as hawt as soaking up never-before-shared smartness from a business guru.

But that guru isn’t paying your bills.
Or recommending you to their friends.
Or talking about you on the twitters.

And you can suck down shininess until you’re ready to OD, but if your foundation sucks that shine goes to waste.

* In my head, shoring it up has officially become known as Snookitime. Damn you, MTV.

Foundations, baby!

Sometimes the key to turning up the fabulousness in your business is tending to the basics.

Take care of the foundation.
Then worry about the shine.

You don’t have to pick one over the other.

This isn’t about either/or.

But do the unsexy stuff first.

And then do it again and again and again.

Every single day.

Because that’s what gives you staying power.

That’s what sustains the shine.

Sometimes the best shit is the boring shit.

What are the unsexy-but-essential parts of your business?
What snooze-ey stuff has had a huge impact on your success?
How do you keep up with the boring bits?
And how do you keep the chasing-after-shiny in check?

Flickr credit – Jörg Bilder

To be this.
Or be that.
To rock it this way.
Or don’t even bother.

The nudge to narrow it down.

To niche your ass off.

To pick one part of you.

And just show that.

Keep it simple and straightforward.

Subtext: Be flat.
The more one-dimensional, the better.

That’s how you snag success.

And make the monies.

And avoid the shameful fate of eating cat food out of an old shoe in some random alley like a dirtyrottenloser.

Facets. We have them.

Here’s the problem with that.

We are complex creatures.

Ridiculously, wildly, beautifully complex.

We have so many layers.

And so many moving parts.

Bits stacked on top of bits.
Smooshed between even more bits.

So many fabulous facets.

There’s a ton of big magics there. In the stacking and the smooshing.

And big frustration too.

Because some bits just fit.

Sweet.
Simpatico.
Ahhh.

Other bits?

Not so much.

There are some facets that seem to totally contradict other facets.

And pieces that run counter to how we’re told we’re supposed to do our Thing.

Push.
Pull.
Blergh.

The complexity can get puke-ey with the quickness.

And, before you know it, everything turns into a steel cage match between these competing bits.

We’re not talkin’ kumbaya here

Can I tell you a secret?

There’s no competition.

None at all.

You don’t have to pick and choose.

This push/pull thing?

Totally unnecessary.
Totally craptastic.

You can make room for your all of your delicious complexity.

{Hint: You’ll be better off if you do.}

And not just in some kumbaya-isn’t-that-sweet kind of way.

Making room makes a real difference.

In how you show up.
In how deep you go.
In how well you do what you do.

And that makes a difference in what you take to the bank.

Backandforthandbackandforth

I used to fight complexity on the regular.

Like the fact that I seriously love working with people.

Feeling totally energized when I’m knee-deep in a session with someone.

And the fact that I need to balance this with frequent chunks of no-people-ness.

Or the fact that I’m crazy about sound and music.

Banging drums.
Thwacking bowls.
Spinning tunes.

And the fact that I need a ton of silence, too.

I have bits that are completely fascinated by marketing.

And bits totally repulsed by it.

Love it. And hate it.
Sometimes at the same time.

And I have a seriously low tolerance for all things woo.

But soul is an important part of my work.

I love to be lighthearted and silly.

And I also love digging in and going deep.

Buhbye meh

I can’t tell you how much time I wasted worrying about what’s ok and what’s not.

Sweating over which bits to bring into my work.
And which bits to banish to the corner.

It was a constant tug-of-war with the bits that didn’t fit.

But then I got it.

They didn’t fit because I hadn’t made space for them.

So I did.

I built my business around my many varied bits.

I created structures that support all of me.

And OMG.
It changed everything.

Business went from getting by to thriving.

And I went from feeling meh to hell yeah! about my work.

Two words: Boo. Yah.

Vroom vroom!

When there’s room for all of you in what you do, something magical happens.

It amps up your flow.

There’s more momentum. And less struggle.

Everything feels cleaner.
And vroomier.

You spend more time getting your genius on.

And less time worrying about what’s ok.

You’re free to serve up your mojo to the people who totally need it.

And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

It’s ok to bring all of your bits on board.

It’s not just ok.

It’s kind of essential.

There’s room for you all of you in what you do.

Trust that.

Make room for that.

Love that.

Your business + your people + your mojo will thank you.

Do you feel like you have to pick?
That there’s not room for all of you in your business?
How would things change if you made more room?
If things already feel all kinds of room-ey, how did you do it?
How do you make room for you in what you do?

Flickr credit – Elsie esq.

Brain surgery.

She’s had Meniere’s disease for years.

And it’s made her life pretty miserable.

So she’s having a major operation today. Hoping things will be better.

And, for her, better just means being able to walk without falling down.

Or going a day without throwing up.

Or not feeling so dizzy so much that she can’t drive.

Or work.

Or really do anything anymore.

Today.

I feel crazy lucky that I get to hang out in a circle of ridiculously creative people.

Friends + colleagues + clients doing insanely cool stuff in the world.

The kind of crowd where ideas + awesome are never in short supply.

Everyone I know has a to do list a mile long.

People are knee deep in creative juices.

And there’s tons of talk about productivity + streamlining + getting things done.

I say, rock on.

And can I also say, gently but clearly, savor where you are right now.

The stuff that’s good in your life today.

The simple stuff that might get missed because it’s not on the list.

The stuff that carries you from one day to the next.

Yes. This.

For me, that’s watching Sid the Punk Rock Kitty dive in and out of a cardboard box.

Or wearing my red suede Docs.

Or pounding my favorite drum.

Or brewing my favorite chai in my favorite cup.

Or listening to Ramones tunes that are like old friends after 25 years.

It’s the little stuff that creates tiny bridges from one day to the next.

So keep watering, gorgeous.

But soak up some yum where you are today, too.

Deal?

I closed the comments on this post on purpose.
Just for today.
Take the time you’d spend commenting and love up some small thing right in front of you.

(Inspired by my sister. And Jen Louden. And you.)

Flickr credit – John Mundy