Month: August 2014

 

When my nephew Eugene was nine, he knew exactly what he wanted to do when he grew up. For starters, he would become President of the United States, having successfully run on a platform in which he promised (1) every city would have its own dinosaur museum, (2) everyone would take the bus to work, and (3) restaurants would have to make extra sandwiches every day to give out to the homeless. After serving two terms, he would then become an elementary school teacher, raise hamsters, live in a tree house, and maybe learn to play the cello. He also said that if I hadn’t married by the time he did all of these things, he would marry me himself and I could pen his best-selling memoirs.

Ah youth! When you’re young, you never really see any obstacles that stand between Here and There. In my own generation, kids who were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up would say things like, “I’m going to cure all the diseases in the world,” “I’m going to enter the Olympics and win every medal,” “I’m going to discover another planet and fly there in my own rocket.” Reality, of course, has a pesky way of derailing some of those fanciful aspirations. I might have become a championship ice skater, for instance, if I hadn’t discovered in second grade that you had to be able to skate backwards. (I’m pretty sure it’s all done with mirrors and holograms.) Writing, however, was a career that promised a much longer shelf life and carried much less risk of physical injury. When I began talking at school about wanting to write books someday, I was fortunate to have a succession of teachers who encouraged me and, later, publishers who encouraged me even more.

Ask kids in the current generation what their dream is and quite a few may respond, “Be rich and famous.” Okay, rich and famous for doing what? This is usually followed by eye-rolling and a shrug. The correlation between working hard and applying oneself to make a difference has gotten lost in the pervasive media noise and bright lights of seeing badly behaved, self-absorbed celebrities enjoying a glam lifestyle and spending money as if there were no tomorrow. As an illustration, there were two tweens behind me in the grocery store checkout line the other day, both of them a-giggle about the new Kim Kardashian iPhone app in which players climb the ranks to A-list Hollywood status by shopping extravagantly, having dates with hotties, and being seen in all the right places. “I sooooo want to be just like Kim!” one of them declared. “Me, too!” her friend echoed. I couldn’t help but reflect that my Barbie doll in the 1960’s demonstrated far more depth by exploring careers in law enforcement, medicine, aerospace, ballet, business, education, and fashion design.  With every corresponding outfit I bought her, I was inspired to actually go read about those careers (if for no other reason than she could talk intelligently about them to Ken, Midge and Skipper). To no great surprise, a limited edition set of Kardashian dolls is now rumored to be in development to keep “Barbs” company and friend her on Facebook. One shudders to imagine what will come of this in shaping the future career choices of impressionable young minds.

I’m often asked when it was that I first knew I wanted to be a writer. In looking back, I’m hard-pressed to remember a single time that I wasn’t writing. Nor can I imagine a more fulfilling way to make a living than doing something that comes as naturally to me as breathing. It’s therefore, exciting to talk to kindred spirits who can’t wait to get up every morning because they, too, know they’ll be spending the whole day ahead doing exactly the kind of work they love.

This month’s issue showcases some of those journeys and the epiphanies that made them come true.

Intuition – Your Compass for Success – by Sarah Yip

A Curious Journey to Success: The importance of Staying Flexible in Business – by Rune Sovndahl

Developing an App Before I even Owned a Smart Phone – by Kate Schwarz

Word of Mouth Lasts Longer Than Excessive Marketing Campaigns – by Wilhelmina Ford

Riding the Waves of Small Business – by Fleur Allen

*****

As for Eugene, he came out as gay in his senior year of high school, got his first job working at a neighborhood Jamba Juice, and discovered his true calling was in making smoothies.  Sixteen years later, he’s still there and happy as a clam. Learning the cello is still on his bucket list.

 

When you’re on the cusp of an exciting new venture – a marriage, a dream job, a perfect house – “How am I going to get out of this?” is probably the farthest question from your mind. With the exception of certain politicians who spend their entire term campaigning for re-election (or the next higher office), most people approach each of these unfolding chapters with the expectation of settling in for the long-term and being happy as a clam. When you’re bright-eyed and effusive with optimism – and especially when you’re a solo business owner – it’s rarely in your wheelhouse to consider things like exit strategies on the very first day you hang out a shingle. Yet given the number of elements that can impact both your professional sustainability and your personal growth, it’s never too early to take a long view of where that path could eventually lead you…and whether you’ll want to stay on it.

In the summer of 1978, I started a touring theater company. The common assumption was that it represented a transition from acting to directing/producing. The true agenda, however, was to address a longstanding problem I had observed from years of treading the boards in community and college productions; specifically, the practice of directors always casting the same actors in every show. As I often told people, landing your first role in a play is not unlike getting your first credit card. Everyone would love to give you one as long as someone else has already proven you’re a good risk. Despite all the training I was providing aspiring thespians on how to ace an audition, directors tended to look with disdain on anyone who showed up at try-outs with an empty resume.  One such person I had formerly worked with even went so far as to say, “My shows are much too important to risk on unknowns.” Since I saw the creative potential of the enthusiastic newbies in my workshops, the obvious test of what I was teaching them about the craft of acting was to start my own troupe and cast them myself in a diverse range of roles to hone their skills on stage.

Was it challenging? Yes. Was it sometimes vexatiously crazy?  Yes. Was it gloriously fun? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Not only was I accomplishing what I’d set out to do by opening doors that had previously been closed to fledgling actors but the company was also providing a platform to develop my playwriting expertise. “I could do this forever,” I remember thinking.

Until I hit the 8-year mark.

The inciting incident was catching the worst cold and sore throat of my life. Although I wasn’t contagious, I felt wretched. Further, I was acting in one of the productions and my voice was about to go out at any moment. I turned to my assistant director and told her that she might have to go on in my place. Instead of sympathy, I got indignation. “You’re not supposed to get sick!” she shot back.

Apparently I must have missed that memo.

Perhaps it’s because I always made everything look effortless (which it truly wasn’t), I was never supposed to get sick, be tired, need a break or take a vacation. As is often the case when you’re the boss of your own business, the line between a work life and a home life gets so fuzzily blurred that you wake up one day and realize it’s not a healthy pattern to continue indefinitely (no matter how much you loved it at the beginning). I had also reached a point of starting to assess which one of the three things I did best – acting, directing and writing – would have the longest (and most portable) shelf life.

The subsequent decision to focus 100 percent on my writing meant that the show, sadly, would have to go on without me. Having already trained a handful of assistant directors to lighten the rehearsal load, I approached them with the idea of their collectively continuing the company after my departure. The reaction was unanimous: “It’s too much work.”  While many of my actors were happily treading the boards in productions all across town, there were just as many still with me who felt my decision was selfish. “How can you end something you yourself started?” they asked. There were even those who equated “quitting” with “failure,” despite eight years of success. The latter, I think, especially applies to the mindset of any sole proprietor  who – following the hoopla of  a grand opening – realizes one day that they’re just no longer passionate about baking designer cupcakes, doing consulting, or publishing other authors’ ebooks.

The answer is that everything which ends means the start of something new. And in the end, taking a step out of your comfort zone and off a familiar path can lead to destinations you never imagined possible.

*****

Here’s this month’s line-up of guest blogs:

Lost that Loving Feeling? 10 Tips to Help You Re-ignite Your Passion at Work – by Jennifer Martin

What Media Monitoring Can Tell You about Your Brand – by Elizabeth Victor

Grow a Company, Without It Being About YOU – by Kritika Ashok