Author: Dan Blank

No one showed up. That is what happened last week when my friends Scott, Andrea and I held a local meetup. This was our 10th event, which we started a year ago. We called the series MOMENTUM, and sought to bring together local creative professionals who were looking to create momentum in their business and craft.

We sat there chatting, eventually someone stated the obvious: “So I guess no one is showing up.”

I wrote a post about the success of that first event – so why was it that I had a natural inclination to NOT write about the event where NO ONE showed up? What is it about that fear of sharing what could be described as failure?

Once we realized that it was just the three of us, something changed. We began talking about the local creative culture, and the projects and people that excited us. One name came up, and instead of waiting for him to show up, Andrea just texted him right then.

The person she texted was Erik Hendrickson, who she recently befriended, and who Scott and I would always see riding around town in super tall bicycles that he builds. A photo is to the right.

It turns out, Erik runs a business called HICYCLES (and here he is on Instagram). Andrea described his studio and how he works, and Scott and I were immediately drawn in. She texted him, and a half hour later, he pulls up on his bike. For an hour, we stood outside discussing his craft, his art, and what it means to turn an idea into reality.

Erik was filled with ideas, and is clearly searching for a footing to build momentum as a creative professional. At some point within that hour, he texted one of his friends, who of course shows up on their own super tall bicycle.

As we stood out there talking, the people who passed by couldn’t help but make a comment about his bike, or smile and nod in appreciation.

It was a great conversation, but… are these meetups a “FAILURE” in overt terms?

Let’s explore this with the typical glass is half full/half empty metaphor.
Here is the half empty glass:

• At this meetup NO ONE showed up. At the meetup prior to this one, only one or two people beyond the hosts showed up.
• We literally had to text someone to get them to show up.

This is a total pathetic failure, right? Perhaps. Well, let’s explore the glass is half full angle here:

• After the event, Andrea emailed Scott and I, saying how much she enjoyed that meetup. That’s important, that it felt right to the five people who were a part of it. That it felt exploratory and connecting.
• Scott emailed me after the event, and we began kicking around ideas for the next phase (more on that below), and discussed momentum he was looking to build in his own business. We are meeting later today to discuss these things in person. Regardless of what else has come from all of this, Scott has become a good friend and collaborator.
• Meeting Erik was pretty awesome. It wasn’t just impressive to see his work – the finished HICYCLES – but to explore many of his other ideas. I mean, is there anything better than a night spent talking to an artist and craftsperson?
• Recently, I wrote about how impressed I have been with our local creative culture, especially with two women who, respectively, opened a book store and launched a literary festival. Everything about this process of holding the meetups has been about me growing my awareness of so many wonderful people in this area, and all the things they are trying to create.

In the book I am writing, one thing I am exploring is that lonely, anxiety-ridden, time consuming work that happens before one finds success with their craft. I can’t help but consider the good that has come from these meetups, and to challenge Scott and myself to see how we can make the momentum we FEEL turn into something that is obvious to others.

Scott and I have been exploring the initial catalyst that lead us to create these meetups. Scott put it this way:

“To keep it simple, I think the value of Momentum meetups really has been, “Oh there are people doing things, I can do things, too.”

He explained how so much of success is to “keep going,” even when things don’t seem to be working, and that our meetups should be about helping others in the area to do just that – to keep going with their creative vision.

When I look back at the past year, I remember so many conversations we have had at these meetups, and incredible people I have met:

Sure, no one showed up to our last meetup, but I do feel there is a momentum of spirit. That so many creative professionals I know feel a bit lost; they wrestle with anxiety; they look around and see so many indicators that encourage them to stop. These are things that every meetup has been about – even if it was just Scott, Andrea, and I.

Is there real failure in this process of running these meetups? YES! Failure of opportunity. Scott and I will both freely admit that we haven’t taken this meetup as seriously as we could have. This was always positioned as a fun extra, but we made the mistake of just hoping it would fall together each month all on its own. That isn’t really fair to Andrea – our host – and even to the expectation we set with those who do attend.

Was there value to be found in every single one of our meetups? Sure. Could there have been MORE value if Scott and I actively reached out to the community throughout the month, bringing in more guest speakers, aligning with events and projects in town, and doing really ANYTHING to market this to a broader audience? YES, absolutely. We failed to do those things, and there is no doubt that this means we could have delivered more value to Andrea, to those who support the meetup, and to ourselves.

Moving forward, Scott and I are discussing how we can evolve the idea of Momentum meetups, and do work that truly honors our intention.

Our conversation with Erik provided a spark for what Momentum could look like in the future: a roving meetup that brings us to artists studios, community events, and into the lives of people doing incredible work in this community. I think we have to challenge ourselves: how can we do more to not just recognize these people, not just connect these people, but truly SUPPORT them and their work?

It’s worth noting that Andrea has been the secret ingredient to all of this, and one of the most incredible connections I have made in this process. Simply put: Andrea is a genius. So practical in her insights, and how she explores what it means to run a business while staying true to her craft. She is inspiring to me not just because of her vision, but with her sheer boldness and gumption. She runs Artist Baker (here she is on Facebook and Instagram), and has been the host for many of our meetups.

Momentum in your creative work isn’t always obvious. It can’t always be represented in data – in fancy charts and graphs. While Scott and I have a lot of work ahead of us, I am excited by the milestone that a year later, we are still here trying to figure out how to make this work.

What does your process of trying to build momentum look like?

Thanks.
-Dan

This past weekend, two women amazed me with what they created for our local literary community. They launched things that were wholly unreasonable in their scope, are full of risk, but which are resulting in profound resources for readers, writers, and inspiring this community to embrace their own potential.

“I Created a Bookstore”

You know how people are talking about how important indie bookstores are? Well, Barb Short went and created one, opening Short Stories Community Book Hub this past Saturday. Barb can say, “I created a bookstore.” That is astounding.

As a local resident, I can’t even tell you how exciting it was to discover that a new storefront was not going to be yet another bank – but rather – a center for literature, art, and a meeting space. Barb and I have had lots of conversations in the past few weeks, yet I can still hardly comprehend how she was able to pull it off.

Her vision was not to just open a store that sold a product (in this case: books), but to become a local center for activities, learning, clubs, and performance. We were talking last night, and she described the bookstore as a series of experiences it creates for people. That is awesome.

The weeks leading up to the opening felt like what I imagine a barn raising to be like: with lots of helping hands along the way. She created a Kickstarter campaign which raised more than $18,000, and held several building events for shelves and books. Overall, she estimated that 200 people lent their hand in getting the store open.

When I showed up at the store in the weeks before opening, it always seemed to be filled with kids that were there helping out – middle school and high school students – building shelves, unboxing books, and making decisions.

Barb’s two daughters are in the 6th and 9th grade, and she is completely aware of the experience she wants to give them before they head off to college: to be a part of building something. At every stage of the process I observed, these kids were taking responsibility, involved in decision-making, and learning what it means to “take a risk worth taking.” That is how Barb described her decision to open the store when I asked.

The best part: these kids and young adults are referring to the store as “we.”

Barb is not just “a role model” because she is a successful professional; these kids are experiencing what it is like to truly create something from nothing – to have a hand in it – and they see that embodied wholly within Barb.

They will forever know the experience of what it means to not just have a dream, but to realize it – and that experience will likely fuel so much of what they each individually create in their lives. Even before she opened the doors of Short Stories, Barb has created exponential potential in the lives of kids in our community.

While so much of this has felt like a community venture, I am always aware that Barb is at the center of it all – that the pressure and risk of this venture lies on her shoulders. And how difficult that can be – and how inspiring it is.

“I Created A Literary Festival.”

In my adult life, I have always lived in small towns: places that had a downtown, a sense of culture to them, and community institutions you could point to. In these places, it’s easy to daydream about potential for events, activities, stores, and other things that bring together the community. But most of those dreams get lost between our daily responsibilities.

Well, Linda Hellstrom didn’t just daydream, she created Morristown Festival of Books, which had its inaugural event last weekend. Linda can say, “I created a literary festival,” and that too is astounding.

The event featured more than 20 authors, from a wide range of topics and genres. It was so impressive to see dozens of volunteers in red shirts helping out, and to hear from author friends how they couldn’t believe it was the first year for the event – it was so well organized.

Events were packed, lines at the book sale table were long, and author signings connected readers to writers in a very personal way. Local businesses got involved, and Bill Moyers even showed up!

My friend Miranda Beverly-Whittemore was one of the authors featured at the festival, and when I was chatting with her at the signing table, one of the event organizers, Deanna Quinones, came over with her 9 year old daughter.

It turns out, her daughter is also named Miranda. Well, Miranda and Miranda hit it off and chatted for about 10 minutes.

This is how young Miranda described the experience:

“I really liked meeting her because I don’t meet a lot of Mirandas around! She liked my necklace and we talked about art. She told me about Shrinky Dinks, which I did not know about. It was cool to meet and really talk to a real author. Miranda is super cool. I loved being at the festival. It was fun to meet people who write books.”

And this is how Miranda Beverly-Whitemore described the meeting:

She’d never met another Miranda before. I told her how the name Miranda comes from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, and how it means “full of wonder” and the character of Miranda in that play is stranded on a desert island with only her wizard father, Prospero, so that when she finally meets other humans, she really is struck by wonder at them. She said that sounded cool. And she told me about how in her school there’s a special tea party where kids get to present stories they’ve written, and she’d done it now two years in a row, so she is a writer too. Then at the end of the day, Julia [Fierro] and I went to get ice cream, and got a chocolate ice cream for Celeste Ng, but the line took forever and by the time we got back, Celeste had already left for her train- so I found Miranda and told her my dilemma and asked if she could help me out by eating the chocolate ice cream for me. She seemed okay with that ;)”

To me – observing this conversation as it happened is so much of what a book festival is all about, and really what so much of publishing is about. Not the numbers (attendance, bestseller lists, sales), but the one-to-one connection that someone has with a book or an author. How we can’t possibly measure the effect that this festival will have, because the results will happen within subtle choices that young Miranda makes throughout her life.

This is not just about selling books; rather, it is about inspiring a 9-year old girl to realize her own potential.

My Responsibility in Supporting These Bold Women

There is a flip side to all of this. What if Barb’s store fails? Maybe not right away, but within a year, or two, or three. And these same kids have to see the store they created taken apart. They have to feel the arduous decisions leading up to a closing.

What if the literary festival hits some major roadblocks in its second year, and despite Linda’s best efforts, it becomes unsustainable?

This is the area of risk that we gloss over when celebrating milestones and successes. Things we gloss over when we easily embrace a hashtag about indie bookstores, like putting a bumper sticker on our cars, but don’t comprehend or take on the incredible risk and commitment that these women have made.

For each of the ventures I mention here, I tried to get involved in a more real way. For Short Stories, I built a book shelf one night, and unpacked and shelved books another night. I tried to stop in as often as I could on other days, help spread the word, and made sure to buy a book on opening day. But, clearly, I can do more.

For The Morristown Festival of Books, I volunteered to become the Community Manager, which basically translated to managing their social media accounts. Again: clearly, I can do more.

As I celebrate these women and what they have created, I have to also challenge myself: how can I support them and the communities they are creating in a more consistent way? How can I feel responsible for their challenges?

As I consider and practice this, I would love to know: can you tell me about a bold woman creating something amazing in your community?

Thanks.
-Dan

PS: If you would like to see how these two communities evolve and thrive, inspiring young minds, you can connect with them via social media:
Short Stories Community Book Hub:

• Facebook
• Instagram
• Twitter

Morristown Festival of Books:

• Facebook
• Twitter

In my guest post for WriterUnboxed.com, I explore the concept of creating more capacity in your life as a writer and creative professional. I also talk about my recent efforts to write my first book; the result so far has been a habit of writing 1,000 words per day. I just reached the 26,000 word mark after 20 days of writing. Having created the capacity to write like this feels like I have created exponential potential in my life. You can read the full post here.

Thank you.
-Dan

This week I received the news that a writer I had been working with recently had passed away.

When we began working together, he was already mid-launch of a nonfiction book about international business – the culmination of his years of success as an executive in Fortune 500 companies.

His publicist brought me on board to help him craft a broader narrative for his work, to develop his online presence, and provide him a path to begin engaging directly with like-minds and readers via social media.

While we did all of that, something unexpected happened during our time together. When I work with a writer, I always ask about their next book – about their long-term goals and vision. Oftentimes the author doesn’t have a lot to say here – they are so focused on THIS book, the one in front of them, that they don’t have defined goals beyond it. I suppose I would liken it to asking a runner about their NEXT five marathons when they are just heading into mile 20 of the marathon they are currently running.

But I always ask. And ask again. And again. Because I know that “a writer writes,” and a book is so much more than a product – it is not just something that you print, distribute and put a price tag on. A book is reflective of a person’s vision, wisdom, and larger journey. And these types of journeys always have a next chapter.

As I worked with him, some compelling things came out. Yes, he had mapped out ideas for another book – one focused on international business – but there was more. He spoke about ways he was helping others by volunteering his time locally, and his compelling interest in visionary leaders. “Luminaries,” as he called them.

When he began framing what this other book could be, his publicist was honest that he may have a difficult time getting attention for it in a crowded market on “leadership” books.

However, in my conversations with him, it became clear to me that this was his obsession, and increasingly, his life’s work. After what one would normally call “retirement,” he was now:

• Writing books
• Back in school seeking his PhD
• An adjunct professor at another university
• A Fellow at a notable organization
• Working with several organizations either consulting or doing pro bono work

As our work on the current book moved forward, and our conversations on the next one continued, he became focused. He wanted to move ahead with HIS vision of what his work should be, not be defined by what the market dictated. Even though he could write another book on international business (and decades of experience in his career would validate it); even though he knew there was a glut of leadership books on the market (that may not validate his); he knew where he wanted to GROW as a person starting a new phase of their life.

One day in the spring, I received a message to stop. To stop work on his current book. A few phone calls later, I found out that he had been diagnosed with something – though I wasn’t told what it was at the time. A few days later, he asked that I remove his website and social media profiles from the internet.

I felt a deep sense of loss at this request. To me, the internet is a network that connects us as human beings, not just some “technology.” It also creates a shared cultural history. To delete someone from it so quickly and completely felt as though I was doing harm to the legacy of this man. To what he has achieved already, and his vision for the future. But of course, I did as he asked.

In the ensuing months, I would receive occasional updates, and things with his health seemed hopeful in the way that we always seek to make them hopeful. Then a few days ago, I received news that he had passed away.

Many of the writers I work with begin their journey as an author at what could be called “mid-life.” After they are already firmly defined by other roles – job titles, as parents, and so many other things. They start a journey to write at a time when they are most overwhelmed by life’s responsibilities.

Yet, in their writing, they seek to craft a new vision for their work, and their life.

The passing of this client reminds me “it’s later than you think.”*

It’s later than you think, to create the body of work you hope for.
It’s later than you think, to affect the lives of others in a meaningful way.
It’s later than you think, to craft the identity you dream of.

I come back to this article again and again in considering the vision for my work with creative professionals: 5 Regrets of the Dying, by Bronnie Ware. In it, a palliative care nurse describes what she learns from people in the last 3 to 12 weeks of their lives. She describes these as their top regrets:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

When I work with writers, I often see them implicitly addressing some of these. They are seeking to express themselves more honestly, more publicly, and create a space in their lives that creates meaning for themselves and others.

If you are waiting to begin creating the vision of what you hope to share with the world, what are you waiting for?

-Dan

* Taken from the 1949 song: “Enjoy Yourself It’s Later Than You Think.” Here is perhaps the most famous version of the song, by Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians.

**For the client who recently passed away, he was a very private man, and I didn’t know if sharing his name or specifics would be appropriate, so that is why I have not named him here.

Your life is custom. It is unique regardless of where you went to school, or how many other people share the same job title as you. No one lives as you have.

Likewise, your life is collaborative. No matter how much you have achieved because of your own experience, wisdom, and grit, much of it is created with others.

Custom and collaborative are two words I have been thinking a lot about in terms of how one finds success as a creative professional. How, in order to create a meaningful body of work, you have to both forge your own path, while constantly engaging with others.

Too often, people seek best practices to provide an easier path, perhaps to guide them, and as a gauge of whether they are ‘doing it right.’ Each culture seems to provide it’s own model for these paths in certain careers… usually implying that if you do well as a junior administrative associate in a certain job, that you will eventually advance through the ranks to senior administrative associate.

But most people get stuck the place that Dwight Schrute did in the TV show The Office: where his actual job title was “Assistant to the Regional Manager,” but he would constantly introduce himself as “Assistant Regional Manager.” He felt he earned the higher title, even though he has not truly advanced into that role.

Likewise, creative professionals sometimes seek the almost romantic notion of ‘going it alone.’ This can be based on an act of rebellion, rejecting other options laid before you, exploring territory that no one has ever prepared you for, or even encouraged. Other times, going it alone is due to scant financial resources, or because working with others can be complex, requiring trust, interpersonal awareness, deft communication, negotiation, and compromise. Perhaps these things can seem to remove freedom and potential from one’s vision of the work they are creating.

Yet, again and again, when I look around at the success that writers I work with achieve, their path is always custom, and always collaborative. So today, I would like to explore each.

The process I encourage many creative professionals to develop is one where they hone their craft, not backing away when they experience fear of the unknown. This less about creating a product (a book, an album, etc), and more about someone living as a craftsperson, a professional, and an artist. The skills and experience you develop on this journey becomes a story unto itself, and one worth talking about.

BEST PRACTICES ARE CHEAP, BUT CUSTOM IS EXPENSIVE

I have written previously about my skepticism for best practices (here, here, and here), and how they can seem like shortcuts, but often promise outsized results using tactics that only worked well a handful of times three years ago.

Of course, I don’t want to be too unreasonable in this regard – I use ‘best practices’ all the time, and much of the work we create is an amalgamation of practices that have come before us.

I suppose I discourage seeking and leaning on best practices too much is because I prefer to see creative professionals explore their vision in their own way, and LOVE the diversity that this process creates in the world. That some of the most exhilarating things that are created are by those who are ‘off trend’ – not to be cool, but because that is what is in their heart as a creator.

In this process of forging ones own path is where valuable experience and wisdom comes from.

CUSTOM IS A PROCESS, NOT A PRODUCT

The floors at the Apple retail stores have as much attention to detail put into them as any of Apple’s products. Years ago, Steve Jobs obsessed over using only a certain stone from a single family-owned quarry in Italy, as well as the complex task of matching nuances of colors in the stone when laid out.

Recently, Apple seems to be experimenting with a floors for their stores using a synthetic material that has a wavy appearance. As I obsessively read through any articles I could find on this, I remember a comment thread (that I can no longer find) where one commenter expressed concern over a seeming lack of quality in Apple moving from stone floors cut in standard 76cm x 76cm panels, to a new synthetic floor. The implication was that anything natural (such as stone) was a higher standard, and anything synthetic wasn’t.

Another commenter responded making the point that the new synthetic floors are custom designed and cut to exactly match their intended use. Specifically that each piece is cut and placed to fit exactly under product tables so that the placement of seams on the floor becomes as much about how a customer experiences Apple products as anything else. That this is CUSTOM, and custom is expensive, regardless of whether it is natural stone or synthetic material. There is a process hidden from view of the ability to value attention to detail, weigh options, design custom solutions, test and fabricate unique materials, and install custom floors that is separate from the material itself.

CUSTOM IS ABOUT CARING

I have been reflecting on this distinction in other ways as well. How some stuff you buy is ‘standard’ – the inexpensive stuff that delivers middling value of “it’s just good enough” – to other products that are ‘custom’ – expensive, well-crafted, and hard to find.

For more than a year now, I have been obsessed with this idea for a Halloween costume: a screen-accurate Luke Skywalker as X-Wing pilot from Star Wars. (yes, I am a total nerd.) I began my research in the summer of 2013, and then put the project on hold as my wife and I put our focus and purchasing and renovating our home.

This year, I pulled the trigger on moving ahead with the costume, and was shocked at what I found in the process. It turns out: you can’t easily buy a decent X-Wing pilot costume. Sure, there are plenty of the market – but many are cheaply made, and you are actually not even 100% sure what you are getting until you open up the package. Yes, they ‘get the job done’ – they are perfectly adequate for representing the character. But they have mixed reviews, yet still cost $60-100.

As I looked through these options, I became enamored with the concept of “screen accurate” – the attention to detail in sourcing a costume that is exactly as worn in the movies.

Knowing that there is an active community online around Star Wars, I began looking for other options. It turns out, there is a thriving prop and costume industry out there, where individual artisans obsess over every detail to create a screen accurate costume, basing them off of not just movie stills, but the original material used to create them for the movie, and surviving movie props.

I scoured fan forums, and actually created a spreadsheet outlining the many pieces of the costume, individuals I was finding in fan forums that crafted each piece, prices and quality.

In the end, I had to order twelve individual costume elements from five different sellers, from all over the US, plus South America.

As I explored all of this, I received help from fellow fans in the community, and got to know each of the suppliers. The base of the costume in an orange flight suit. The person I am buying mine from custom makes the flight suit for each order. He asked for 27 measurements to ensure it was the perfect fit for me. After I emailed the measurements to him, he then asked for 10 more measurements JUST for the gloves!

What I have found is that the depth of caring that goes into this can clearly not be mass produced. It has to be created by fans and craftspeople who care enough to make small runs or do custom orders. The process was also very collaborative, with lots of advice, ideas, and encouragement provided from others in the fan community along the way. I loved seeing the cottage industry that exists – how fans are able to earn part of their living from making screen accurate costume replicas.

I have to say, I started off looking for a costume, and now genuinely feel more a part of a community as a result of the experience.

WHO YOU PARTNER WITH MATTERS

Who you partner with matters, and this is inherently filled with risk. One of my all-time favorite movies is the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi, which tracks the career and process of master sushi chef Jiro Ono in Japan.

I was listening to the director’s commentary track to the movie the other week (did I mention I was obsessive?), and he mentioned how Jiro was constantly talking about how much he relies on the expertise of his vendors. That he purchases shrimp from a very specific shrimp expert; rice from only one rice vendor; tuna from the tuna person; etc. That every aspect of Jiro’s ability to craft sushi is collaborative, and that even though Jiro himself gets much of the accolades, he couldn’t possibly do it alone.

In fact, one of the main points the movie makes is something so intriguing. First it builds up our awareness of, and respect for Jiro himself: his lifelong honing of the craft in preparing sushi. But then, you become aware that his son, his apprentices, and his vendors are absolutely essential parts of the process Jiro has established. Jiro alone could do none of this.

NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE CUSTOM

Does everything you create, everything you buy, everything you experience NEED to be custom? Nope! You can buy consumer electronics in a store without amazing floors; purchase a $30 Star Wars costume and still have a nice time; eat sushi for $10 and still feel it was delicious.

Not every brand has to be as beloved as Harley Davidson, as obsessive as Apple, or as devoted to customer service as Zappos. And surprise! Cheap wine is cheap.

Some things need to be the cheap yet effective option; need to become a baseline standard of “good enough”; need to become a “best practice” to help people develop their skills. Each of these things serve a much needed function, and most of our lives are a big mix of ‘standard’ and ‘custom.’

THE CHOICE OF CUSTOM AND COLLABORATIVE

The writers I work with face so many choices of how to improve their craft of writing; how to publish; how to connect their work to an engaged readership. Many writers I speak to define their state of being as “overwhelmed” because of this.

I have said before that you can only prepare for, but not plan, for success. That oftentimes, no one knows what efforts will actually work, and this can lead many creative professionals to pursuing the “safer” and options of following best practices, rather than more complex “custom” solutions that have to forge new paths.

Obviously, a balance is what in order, but the trick of deciding what is best pracice, and what is custom is the difficult decision. I think one thing to be wary of is making these decisions based on cost alone. I remember talking to someone once who chose to not setup an email list for their business purely because they felt that $19 per month for an email service provider was too much. From what I gleaned, they made a business decision about how they engage with their customers based solely on $19, not on the long-term value of email as a communication channel. And that was shocking to me.

Regardless of what choices you make, your life is custom. Regardless of simple distinctions of “indie vs traditional,” “published or unpublished,” “best seller or not,” or so many others – your writing career is custom.

In what ways have you found your career to be either custom or collaborative?

Thanks.
-Dan