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An Entrepreneur's Holiday Weekend: The good, the bad, the unproductive

This week I took some extended time off around the Thanksgiving holiday--two whole days! The first day of my vacation I spent catching up on email, thinking of blog post ideas, and, OK, just checking in on our company team meeting. Hey it was a goodie, not one to be missed. My husband also had the day off and couldn't really make sense of my choice of activities.

"Babe, what's the point of taking vacation if ..."

"I know, I know."

The remainder of the day I played with widget options for my soon to launch new blog, went to the dentist for a follow-up, and then baked pumpkin pie. In my true style of underestimating how long it takes to properly create things In Real Life, I forgot that one must let dough chill before rolling it out. This not so minor detail, and some general wonkiness I encountered with my dough, put me back about 2 hours. I went to bed well past midnight.

Wednesday we drove from the Bay Area to Anaheim to spend Thanksgiving with Jesse's family. We encountered pockets of heavy traffic, which irritated my husband to no end, but which I found rather convenient--it afforded me more time to catch up on trade newsletters and articles I had sent to myself to read when I'd get an extra moment. At one point, I noticed an email request from my business partner and figured, "Hey, I'm in the car, so why not just crank it out."

I worked on the laptop until my power died, then enjoyed the throngs of people stuck in gridlock for the next few hours.

Thursday I really did take the day off. We took a long bike ride on the tandem of Jesse's aunt and uncle. After lunch, I sat on the couch next to Jesse to watch the football game with his grandfather. Next thing I know, I'm waking up.

"What just happened?"

"Enjoy your nap?" Jesse said.

"That was weird. I wasn't even tired."

Both Jesse and I knew what had happened--what happens every time I have enough time off to absorb the fact that I'm on vacation--my body shut down. For the remainder of the day I felt bone tired and disoriented, like I was just waking up. Every few minutes I checked my Blackberry for email, out of a nervous habit. With the exception of a few Facebook and Twitter alerts there was nothing. Not having anything new pop into my inbox made me a tad agitated. It felt like there was something wrong. I had to remind myself that it was Thanksgiving. When we arrived at Jesse's aunt's for dinner I put my Blackberry in the glove compartment.

Friday Jesse was up with the sun. I found it much harder to wake up. I sauntered into my in-laws' kitchen and started to pick through the New York Times. I helped set up a wireless router, and then around 1 pm felt this sudden panic that I was letting the day pass me by. Jesse had mentioned that his parents wanted to see an exhibit at the contemporary art museum in La Jolla.

"When are we going to motivate?" I asked Jesse.

"I dunno. I thought I might study for my (licensure) exam for a while."

"We need a plan, Jesse! When are we going?"

"Later today."

"When later today? The sun sets at 5!" My voice became more and more urgent.

"Fine. We'll leave at 2."

At 2:15 we left for the museum. None of us were that impressed with the exhibit, but I was glad to be out and a tourist, taking in the sites on the waterfront. I was already thinking to myself, "Where are we going for dinner? Do we need reservations? When should I squeak out a blog post?" I told myself to shut up. We watched the sun set. I'd done nothing productive, and it was OK.

Saturday I squeezed in some exercise before friends arrived for brunch. I felt more energized than I had been, despite the fact that I had had a work dream that woke me up in the middle of the night and I couldn't fall back asleep for hours. It wasn't a scary or traumatic dream, just one that required a degree of thinking. I found it strange to wake up at 3 in the morning in a state I find myself in during, say, a team meeting: Fully alert and ready to report information.

We did some shopping that afternoon, or browsing, anyway; I found that I wasn't inspired by anything at the stores. Later, I tried to blog and realized I was a blank slate, no words were appearing that I considered compelling enough to write down. I thought to myself that it was a shame, really; I finally had some time to blog, and I couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

Sunday we drove back up from SoCal, and I caught up on more trade newsletters. It occured to me that there were only so many to catch up on before it made sense to let some information go. I listened to hours of CNN on satellite radio and wondered, "Did any of these people take the weekend off?" It seemed that there were many people whose jobs required them to be even more available than mine did on holiday weekends, and I felt grateful and guilty.

We got back home earlier than planned and even a bit unsure of what to do with ourselves. I had planned to start working as soon as I got home, but as a personal dare I decided to think about my long weekend--what I did, not what I didn't do. And write it down, even the seemingly mundane stuff, so that I would be more aware of how I spent my "free" time. I asked myself, how much of it did I actually spend on being free? 

The Entrepreneur's Guide to Time Management: How to Pick a Brain Properly, and How to Selectively Allow Yours to Be Picked -- Part II

Some more food for thought, following my post from last week:

• Brain Pickers: Be specific. A few months ago, a man approached me--or more accurately reproached me--about my company's attitude toward him. He had wanted to work with us, but we weren't being receptive.

 "OK," I said, "tell me more."

He did, telling me nothing that would indicate why we should work together, only that he resented that my company charged for advertising across our network. If only we let him share his product with our community in partnership, we'd see what a great fit they were with us.

After the event, I followed up with him, as I was sensitive to the fact that prior to our meeting he had felt unheard. I explained that we were approached by people asking to partner like this often, and unless there was something that would benefit us both upfront it would be hard to justify a test relationship. Did he have any ideas? Anything to make me think we should place a bet on him by changing our business model to work with him? His note back was short: He had been hoping I would have thought of something. 

This is arrogant: Assuming that others should immediately see your value to them. And it's lazy. I'm sure that many callers aren't intending to be that way when they approach with little specificity--I'm sure many think they are being accommodating by not assuming how they could work with you. But with time at such a premium, I prefer to receive a note that says: "I think we should work together because of X" and letting me counter if that reason isn't important to me, rather than saying, "I really like what you are doing, let's talk and see if there's a way to work together."

• Brain Pickees: Consider everyone a potential resource. Mahalo Founder and serial entrepreneur Jason Calacanis openly condemns VCs and angel funders who charge entrepreneurs for the opportunity to pitch their businesses, and I have to agree with him. The sources that are worth their salt--and Calacanis points to VC Fred Wilson as an example--may be tough to reach because they are busy people, but if your concept is worth something and you present yourself well, you should get a meeting, without paying for it.

I learned this waaay back when I was in print publishing: You don't pay an agent to read your manuscript. Sure, it takes some moxie getting an agent to see your work, but agents that charge you for the opportunity tend not to have the reputation required to take your work to the next level.

It may seem counter-intuitive but it's true, because successful people don't stop looking for ideas and opportunities. They don't "top out" once they reach the big time. As much as I don't always agree with Diddy's approach to talent development (as I've seen on his various Making the Band programs), I do admire his willingness to go back to the roots of what gave him success in the first place in order to mine new talent and stay fresh and relevant in the music industry. In many ways his show is an early, analog version of curated crowdsourcing that worked.

• Brain Pickers: Be useful: Back when my partners and I were contemplating seeking venture capital funding to grow our business, we sought out a number of experienced people like Guy Kawasaki, Steve Perlman and Caterina Fake to help us get some perspective on whether to do this, and if we were to, how to do it right. These are some busy, successful people, but they were only too happy to help, for many reasons. These people were very generous with their time, and we made sure we didn't waste it. We also did what we could to be useful.

You may come to the table thinking you have nothing to offer someone who is already successful, but put yourself in their shoes: Often success can  become a buffer from some of the less-desirable things about entrepreneurship (like having to do everything, even the things you're not good at) but it can also keep you a few feet removed from the ground, where you have access to information. I often complain that as our business grows, I have less time now to get the skinny on my favorite topics on blogs. Nor can I go to as many meet-ups, where even the most random small talk yields insights on my industry. I have to make an extra effort to stay connected, which a few years ago was part of my everyday world.

When we met with Guy Kawasaki, he was in transition, learning more about the blogosphere and what made it tick. I can only hope that in some exchange for his wisdom we were able to bring him closer to the the space before his new venture, popular with the women's blogging community, AllTop launched.

Before I get my brain picked, I often ask myself, "What new things can I learn from this conversation?" Before I pick a brain, I ask, what info can I bring to the table?

• Brain Pickees: Expand your horizons. This goes back to consider everyone a resource. But even while being open you might not see opportunities in places that are surprisingly fertile. A few months ago, I was approached by someone I'd met years ago to be on the advisory board of a children's entertainment and educational company he now headed. He was aware that I could not offer up free media or proprietary information; he just wanted to tap my thoughts on marketing to moms.

I don't have kids, so the free DVDs weren't what tipped me to saying yes. Rather, it seemed like an opportunity to get better at what I currently do. The beauty of the position is that it has re-enforced my connection and thought leadership in an area in which I knew a lot, but now know much more. I've gleaned new insights for my own business as a result. Now that's a win-win.

• Brain Pickers: Let people know when picking their brain has helped. And pick your moments. So this goes back to good old-fashioned upbringing and lives next to writing thank you notes in my top five things that have carried over from my mother's nagging. But having now been on the other side of the equation, and having seen how my helping someone has made a difference, I insist on doing this when I am helped. When people I help do this, I am more excited to help them again.

That said, even if you send home-baked goods to everyone who has helped you, if you ask for too much too often, you wear out the good will. People can only eat so many cupcakes. People who continually go to the well because they are thirsty will find it dry if they don't give it time to fill up naturally. For this reason I recommend that BPs pick the best use of a source's time and not waste it on things she could get without that source's help. I recall responding to a stranger's emailed request for help starting her personal blog with a few general resources for getting started. I don't do this kind of work and thought she should have researched what I do at my company before sending her request, but I appreciated her desire to get started and wanted to encourage her. When she followed up asking me to interpret some confusing information on the site I sent her to, I was much less helpful: I told her to do exactly what I did when I started a blog and needed help: Call customer support.

This example is egregious, but think of people you might have helped in the past who followed up, essentially because they did not want to do the work that you suggested. If you provide support you are enabling them to eventually fail.

The Entrepreneur's Guide to Time Management: How to Pick a Brain Properly, and How to Selectively Allow Yours to Be Picked -- Part I

Having people ask to "pick your brain" can be the ultimate compliment to an entrepreneur. It makes us feel like we're experts in something, or that we've been successful enough at something that someone values our thoughts. But brain picking comes in many shapes and colors. Some brain pickers (BPs) are just looking for inspiration; talking with you stirs their own ideas. Others want resources--money, contacts, insider knowledge that will help them with their endeavors. None of these are inherently bad, but none of them are good if you aren't getting something out of the sharing.

I used to love it when people asked to pick my brain, especially early into the business. I might not have been drawing a paycheck, but by golly! Someone wanted to talk to me about something. It was a small sign of traction.

Today it's different. I still love helping people, but I've been confronted with the limits of my time and energy. I've had to be brutal at times about how I prioritize "non-business-related" requests. And I feel badly about it, I mean what entrepreneur doesn't include in her war stories a paean or five for the big shots who threw her a bone--a contact, and introduction, or an informed opinion--her way that made all the difference. Since becoming an entrepreneur I've become more determined than ever to pay it forward.

But paying it forward can't be confused with sucking yourself dry. Even while helping others with their endeavors, I see no reason why we can't always strive for win-win situations. I hope that the following ideas stir your thinking--both brain pickers and pickees. I'll write this up in installments this week. But let's start with a few:

• Brain Pickees: It's OK to say, "Not a good time." Even if you want to help someone, sometimes you can't. I recall respected peers asking for business intros and advice when it just wasn't appropriate for me to provide it. Perhaps my company was in the midst of a negotiation with the requested company, or sharing my info would compromise others. It sounds like common sense to respectfully decline, but it really is a tough lesson to follow, especially because of the "pay it forward" thing we entrepreneurs tend to ascribe to.

• Brain Pickers: Make giving you help as easy as falling out of bed in the morning. I have a pal who is a budding, but successful, entrepreneur. She runs a women's community. "I knew that things were starting to go well when people started reaching out to me, asking me for help," she says. A doctor and artist, she's had many different career lives and experiences, so she was asked just about everything, from "Do I have H1N1?" to "How did you start a business?" At some point, the requests began to hinder her everyday work. She decided to create a filter, if you will, to separate the quickie information seekers from the serious people.

"I ask them if they will join me for a hike," she says. Some background: my friend lives in what could best be described as a remote area, near the lovely, pristine Marin coastline. She's committed to hiking an hour each day. I've joined her, and it ain't a quick jaunt or drive.

"The right people will make it out and help me kill two birds with one stone," she says.

Likewise for me. If I am approached by someone who is seeking information that is not a part of my daily business plan, they must be willing to call me in my car (as my commute hours are often the best place to reach me), or make it to my office. If you miss the time that we've agreed upon for a chat, please let me know in advance, and give me a good reason. If you miss the time, I won't be calling you to reschedule. In some cases, if the person seems to be disrespectful of my time, I won't respond to requests to reschedule.

Again, it's not about being cruel or mean, it's about saving time for the good stuff, and for the people who will use your time well.

More to come later this week.

Option 1: Work more; Option 2: Work less; Option 3 ...

Kris at The HR Capitalist caught my attention with his post, "Being a Star - Either Put In More Hours Than Others, or Start Eliminating Stuff (But Stop Whining)...." He says:

Work/life balance is a choice.  You won't be able to be your version of Bono with work/life balance as your goal.  More and more, I run into super sharp people who are amazed at the entitlement culture of talented folks who say they want to be stars, but won't put in the time to outwork others and are outraged when told that's what it takes.

If you are not inclined to put in more hours, Kris says, "you need to start eliminating things that you don't think matter, the things you can get away with not doing, not being involved with at work."

This is the choice of anyone seeking success, but notably of the entrepreneur. As my company has grown, my time management strategy as evolved--or devolved as the case may be:

• Phase 1--The first date that won't end: You have a crush on all the excitement that your business is providing for you in life and unwittingly give it all the time that it needs. Other things need to happen, like sleep, so you just add more work hours to your day and keep plugging after dinner, or after your spouse knocks off for bed. When opportunities present themselves, you drop everything.  For instance, someone you've wanted to meet with for some time wants to connect for breakfast at 7:30 a.m. the next day in New York City, and you are in San Francisco. No problem! Sure you don't feel great after taking a red-eye, but you make it there. And you've set up other back-to-back meetings to get the most out of your time. By the time you are back at the airport you realize you might not have mentioned your whereabouts to your spouse but know he'll understand. And you know that this phase can't last forever, but you must take full advantage of every opportunity now, while you have it.

• Phase 2--The Trade-offs: You realize that other things--hobbies, friends, wellness--are being impacted, but hopefully now you are experiencing some growth and cannot imagine losing momentum in order to stop and smell the roses. Also, expectations have been set. Clients on the East Coast expect that you will be available during the wee hours of the morning on the West Coast; you've told them to call you if they wanted to talk--anytime; they're just taking you up on your offer. All those opportunities that you have been pushing for are now happening; and you must be there to implement them. You can't imagine having others do it during such a delicate, relationship-building phase. You plan to eventually build replicable, delegatable processes, but you must trail-blaze for how.

You try to fit it all in, but even with extended hours you can't. So you compromise on everything except your business. You skip those biannual physical exams, you whittle that full workout into a few sit-ups before bed, you spam an eGreeting card to your address book this year instead of sending individually written cards. That quality time you book nightly with your spouse or the kids is spent responding to email while sitting next to him on the couch. You don't have to meet with people in-person today, so you forgo showering and getting dressed--time is money, people! The first time you skip these things it feels bad; the second time you can justify it as something you're sacrificing "for now", the third time you've re-identified yourself: "I guess I'm just going to be 10 pounds heavier." "I've never been much of a home cook." "I'm just not a neat person." "I'm the kind of person who always has to be doing something." ...

You start to fear that your tradeoffs are becoming more and more visible. You look older. You have creaky knees and your neck hurts. You indiscriminately hand people not associated with your business, like your drycleaner, your business card. You develop this glassy look that signals to your domestic partner that you are assessing what else you need to get done today, not listening to his suggestions for what to have for dinner. You meet up with friends you haven't seen in ages, and when they ask how you are doing, you update them on your calendar and on your competition.

• Phase 3--Signs of wear and tear: You have much to show for your hard work--both good and bad. You are still pushing hard; forget about cruise-control. But you can speak confidently about the future of your business.

Through accidental situations, like delayed flights and malfunctioning electronics, you find yourself with small pockets of unscheduled time and have no idea what to do with it: Pick up a newspaper and at least familiarize yourself with the happenings in the world, pet your cat, or call people? You realize you don't know where to start and defer to doodling in your notebook. You go to the dentist and they declare you're in for a year of orthodontics due to stress-induced jaw alignment issues. You understand the urgency but just don't know how you can fit that sort of thing into your schedule at this time. Pain is also very time consuming--feeling it, preventing it, containing it. You plan another appointment in several months--hopefully enough lead time to plan around it. You later realize that you do have a conflict but you do nothing. Maybe the other party will cancel. You meet up with friends you haven't seen in ages, and when they ask how you are doing, you have nothing to say. You say, "Hanging in, and you?

People call you successful and you wonder, "How so?" Even if you are, you are so used to the act of building momentum that you don't know what success feels like. Perhaps you've overcome it and it's now trailing behind, and you just feel something dragging. You assume it's another problem to attack. You remove your anniversary dinner from your calendar and enter "figure out dragging issue" in its place.

But back to HR Capitalist's two options: Accept that you are going to have to put in the time, or start taking things off your plate. The frustration of a later-stage entrepreneur who's had a few years to cycle through both options is "what else?"

One could say Option 3 is aspire to less. Let's just say for the sake of argument that this was even possible for the entrepreneur, that we could temporarily suppress this unquenchable ambition and could actually make a logical decision to dial it back a bit. I argue that our natures would kick back in, and we would become crazy about something else.

My friend and former coach Kimberly threw something out to me that was similar to Kris's advice, but offered in a way that I could actually consider.

"I'll bet you could back off about 10 percent and no one would even notice," she said.

"But I would notice," I said.

And I thought about that. There are types of effort: level one being "9-5" effort, level two being extraordinary effort, and level three being "Why are you afraid that level two won't suffice?" effort.

I am willing to consider level 2 may be effective.

Life in the Entrepreneurial Weeds

"So, what are your hobbies these days?"

I was having coffee with Nick, a peer from my high school days who found me via this blog. He'd just moved to the Bay Area, just a few blocks from my place. We'd agreed to catch up at a local coffee shop. Unbeknownst to Nick, our tete-a-tete about the past 17 years would make him more caught up with my whereabouts than most people in my life.

I didn't expect his seemingly benign question to cause such consternation with me.

"I travel...on business mostly," I said. "But I enjoy it...when I can get away. I write--or wrote--a lot. I do like to write, when I can." I wondered to myself, Is watching Top Chef a hobby? What about doing laundry?

The truth is, I have no hobbies--none that I actively pursue, anyway. I've stopped carving out spare time to pursue non-occupational interests. Spare time is for errands, or catching up on email. Thank God Nick was into salsa dancing--at least someone had something to talk about other than work.

Just before that I had been running errands with H-band doing things that for most people would seem mundane, but for me was good together time: buying towels and a shower curtain. My friend A laughed uproariously when I told her earlier last week that doing dishes was a nice respite from the Treo. Before her reaction I hadn't realized that I have become a bit insane; at best a one-trick pony.

Just lately I've become more aware of this, when people from my past have called and told me of the kids, doctorates, salsa lessons in their lives, and I speak of business trips. I've had more well-rounded periods in my life, when I took wine-tasting classes and belonged to reading and writing groups, but entrepreneurism demands a new level of commitment--at least it has for me--where the yoga classes are no longer possible, nor the lingering chats over coffee. The irony is that I chose an entrepreneurial path to balance life and my work; in truth I have experienced a bottleneck and have had to choose.

Nick told me that he'd spent 12 years on his doctorate. It was an all-or-nothing situation; he had to publish or have nothing to show for his time. The dichotomy and risk involved with academia pushed a colleague of his to leave and get a job in finance. He figured he'd make money first, then pursue his interests later.

"Twelve years is a very long time," I said to Nick, I could relate to his friend. "But you never know if your friend will ever do what he says he'll do."

"That's just it," Nick said. "You don't know."

Some people choose to work hard, play later; some people honor the journey and are willing to slow it down to widen the path. Some people never choose; they do it all. And I look at them, wondering where they put this ability to make it all happen; are they hiding it in their mouths? Despite all the lessons I love to cook up I still struggle with how one does it--puts work down to lift every thing else, without trying to cheat.

I've been reminding myself that despite my penchant for working I used to be quite familiar with the latest foreign films, wine varietals, NBA standings, and the best bike paths in San Francisco. I used to read all the reviews in The New Yorker and know odd facts from issues past. A long time ago I used to dance. And a long, LONG time ago I used to play video games.

Nick could hardly believe this when I revealed that I was an avid Atari player. Avenger, Frogger, that game with the tar pits. I could play all day.

"I didn't know you were a geek," Nick said.

I had forgotten that for a sustained period of time, a LONG time ago, I knew how to play. 

Exploring why we work

Just some thinking that I did over at BlogHer. Why do we work? To earn, to achieve, to torture ourselves?

Entrepreneurial Sin #8: Becoming a Repurposer

Three years ago, when I started this blog, I found time each weekend to sit in a cafe and read. I always brought a variety of books and magazines and would alternate from article to chapter, sometimes taking notes. It seemed like an arduous process, but it was my patented way of extracting ideas that were dormant but very much alive. Creative thought can often hibernate like a bear in the winter. This material that I read--be it a business book or a woman's magazine--was like a sizzling steak laid under my nose. It woke me up and let me stretch my muscles. Often the blog posts that resulted bore no resemblance to the copy that inspired it. The point was not to riff off of these books and articles, but to allow them to trigger something totally unique.

I get bored with blog content that simply riffs off of other content, even though there are content providers who do very well with this tactic. Let's be realistic: we need interpreters and evaluators of original content, but I didn't begin blogging with an eye toward keywords to embed, or A-List bloggers to emulate, in my content; I did it to extract ideas that I suspected I had, but that I hadn't given a chance to manifest. Hopefully, some of these ideas would be needed.

I bring this up for several reasons, one which is purely observational and the other personal (read: entrepreneurial): It would make sense that in its adolescence the Blogosphere has begun to resemble the landscape of its predecessor, traditional media. You have your "premium" original content providers, your riffers and referrers to original content which provide us with the benefit of aggregated premium content, and your equivalent of syndicators, or "repurposers" of content. And in the process of this maturation, or de-maturation depending on how you look at it, the proportion of original to repurposed content decreases. In technical terms, more of the same shlock gets put out there. Much of this shlock was once gold, but as a concept gets re-generated over and over, it loses its luster. I can watch the same episodes of Seinfeld or The Sopranos only so many times. I can read only so many takes of the same meme before it fizzles.

Talking about blog technique with Britt Bravo the other day, we both confessed that we didn't actually practice what we preached when it came to writing down ideas for future blogging. It seems that whenever I do this I've lost interest by the time I sit down to write. The effect is a lack of consistent coverage of current or important events, but the benefit of content that has current relevance to me.

This concept of original vs. repurposed content resonates with me on a personal level because it applies to my entrepreneurial endeavors. If BlogHer is a unique concept, it must continue to be a "premium" content, or concept, provider--we can't get too absorbed in the logistics of what we are doing, or the need to monetize it, that we lose sight of the original generator of ideas that inspired it. We grew organically from women's original voices and from a process of continual feedback with the women's blogging community, and this piece must be retained, above all else, or we lose our value proposition.   It's something the founders are always cognizant of--the need to keep our pilot light on, at all costs, despite the competing demands of growing a business.

Yet its easy to fall into the trap of not changing it up, of not exploring for new inspiration. For one thing repurposing saves time. On an efficiency level it makes sense to regurgitate the same ideas, but do this too much and you risk innovation--your edge. You can only widgetize ideas so much before we all start spewing the same headlines.

I had ample time to ponder this on a trip I took this week to Israel, to speak at the The Globes Internet & Communications Conference in Tel Aviv. Some people think it's borderline insane to fly 36 hours for a 1.5-hour engagement. And with all that I needed to handle back at home after my last trip, I couldn't stay for more than 24 hours. But I honor my commitments and frankly was excited to see how concepts that were becoming old hat in my mind would resonate with new audiences. An interesting side effect from any of these engagements is that I end up coming away smarter, having recognized a new position in the world. I found the Israelis to be incredibly interested in how women are making their mark online, and I found myself rather captivated by the entrepreneurs I spoke with, who are inventing Web 2.0 applications that take into account user psychology as much as market demand. I had many "why didn't I think of that?" moments.

I must confess I was not relishing the idea of traveling so far in such a short timeline. For one thing I had serious work to do, email to manage, meetings that were being held off, and...well... stuff, just a lot of stuff. And yet, somewhere in the 15th hour of my 36-hour journey I started to see the underlying purpose of my visit. There in the back pocket of the seat in front of me, where I'd stuffed a novel I'd had for two years before cracking it open, and months-worth of Business 2.0s, now with articles ripped from the bindings, and a used notebook, I saw something that made sense. In this situation of prolonged confinement, I was being brought back to life.      

What makes a brilliant salesperson? Some insights.

Earlier this week I attended a seminar for heads of small businesses seeking to build strong sales organizations. I expected the presentation to be about generating leads and the joys of consultative selling. Fortunately, this session encapsulated less tactical and more big-picture information. I learned some things about what makes a strong salesperson to be sure, and I also learned about what makes a strong business owner in the process. Afterall, business owners hire these people. We have to know what matters.

The presenter, Chip Doyle, offered some immediate ways to identify strong salespeople. I was relieved to hear that loudmouths, or unequivocally extroverted people need not necessarily apply.

Having built BlogHer's sales organization to its current level, I hardly match what I, myself, would envision as a salesy type (though the propensity to talk is there), and the more I dis-identify from that stereotype, the prouder I feel of my role. Rather than "close," I have this nagging desire to tell the right story to people. I feel compelled to let people know how things have gone right, what not to do, how to do things better based on what I've seen, and in the process sales occur. If I feel the client has learned something, I feel good about the transaction.

Though, Doyle warns, deriving too much personal self-worth from selling is dangerous. We know the types who sell high and live rather low, justifying the low with their sales record. But he warned of a related type, someone who is more concerned with being liked by the client than meeting goals. While strong follow-through often means more sales, we're not always going to do deals and make friendships simultaneously. Sometimes a client has to buy from you because they have to, not because of your astounding selling ability. Sometimes clients don't need your services, and there's not much you can do about it.

I recall a salesperson I worked with once who spent the bulk of his time on leads that weren't interested. On the one hand I admired his tenacity and refusal to be discouraged by the word no. On the other hand he wasted time with no's when he could have been getting to yeses. While a good salesperson has a strong drive to provide value and to win, she must also be willing to accept less-than-perfect fits and walk away from those who don't see your value. We (hopefully) learn this when we date: we must give relationships the college try, but if the other person isn't treating you as someone with commitment potential, move on.

I always believe in a consultative approach to selling, and yet, if a client isn't ready to hear what I have to say or has a different philosophy toward the industry and disagrees with my approach, I'm better off not shoehorning this sale into my program. Rather I can find clients that are open with my take, rack up a success with that client, and then re-connect with the skeptics.

Chip's take on strong sales candidates was psychological. There are types of people who can handle ambiguity much better than others; adding my own take, they can also extract tangible outcomes from ambiguity and know early whether to move on. Anyone who can change is capable of being a good salesperson. During the downturn, as the staff of the start-up I worked for dwindled from 90 to 40 to 20 to 10. I noticed that the people that stuck around were the adapters. They were fine with being moved into new roles, learning the intricacies of them, and leveraging others' knowledge to get up to speed quickly. With so few of us left we all had to take on some form of sales role. Our most successful cold caller was our assistant producer, who was used to having her role changed daily, and liked the challenge of penetrating new companies.

Belief that a no may be turned into a yes with more information about the client.

 

Approaching My Blogging MidLife Crisis

I spoke on Friday at an event for small business owners in Phoenix. The topic of my talk: The power of blogging for small business owners. This is a favorite topic of mine, as I've practically lived the results and seen great things happen among my peers. I have to try and control my excitement as I tell people stories of how people have gone from office job to guru consultant in 12 to 18 months. Making success sound that easy scares people; it scares me, anyway. And I don't want blogging to be perceived as the Dexatrim of marketing tools--the quick fix, no-sweat-equity solution--despite my obvious excitement. I'm not selling Amway, after all; I'm evangelizing an important shift in media.

I tend to tone it down a bit; I insist that it takes work, time, and resources to successfully leverage blogging for your business before telling my stories of people's meteoric rise--at the very least a boost in the search engines.

Note: While I don't question the permanence of blogging as a media option, I do think that there will be a shift in the attention paid to bloggers, a shakeout if you will, of those who are simply doing this for quick spurts of Google Juice and free iPods from those who have integrated blogging into their lives as a means of authentic self-expression and self-promotion.

Also Note: I couple the words "authentic" and "self-promotion"; they don't cancel each other out. People can and should make money, get press, get attention from their blogs, if they wish. You CAN be an authentic self-promoter, but currently there's little distinction made by the bulk of marketers between people who blog and people who shill. Editorial standards and personal integrity will have to prevail if we are to make the Andrew Keens of the world wrong about blogs being the death of quality media. We'll have to determine which rung of Maslow's hierarchy we're operating from, and if it's a lower one, know it, own it, and expect fewer and fewer links in coming years. At the end of the day, things level out. The cream rises. Paris goes to jail, and the inauthentic lose attention. 

Entrepreneurial Sin #7: Forgetting what's an obligation and what's a choice

My first job out of college was at a publishing house. I was 21 years old and making $19,000 a year. This company offered me $1,000 more than the others, so I figured it was a good deal. I did the math and saw that I could just eek by on that much, even in New York City. But then my father reminded me to factor in taxes, and I realized that I was screwed.

I ended up taking editorial work on the weekends to make ends meet, which didn't leave me much time for personal pursuits. Technically my job was to provide support for the editor in chief of the imprint, though I was also expected to read manuscripts and write reports recommending that the title be sent back to the agent with a rejection letter, or that they get a second read.

I was too busy during the day to read manuscripts, so I read at night, while I ate, while my boyfriend watched TV next to me, in the laundry room, in cafes. I got together for social outings with other editors, and we sat together to read. This was our "down time." Email was available, but you couldn't fit entire manuscripts on disks as efficiently as you can now, so we had to carry these double-spaced, single-sided, 450-page manuscripts to and from work. I was always weighed down with paper, much like today I'm always weighed down with my laptop.

One of the most common comments I heard under the breath of my peers was, "They don't pay me enough to (insert boring, time-intensive task here)." I felt that way about copying manuscripts, but never about reading during every waking leisure hour of my life. It never occurred to me that my biweekly check for $550 was hardly compensation for the work that I did from 9 to 5. 

But this was the ethic of publishing, the "dues paying" that was required to get to a point of financial self-sustainability. Note I didn't say wealth; we goaled no further than to get to a point where we didn't have to go to bars with free hush puppies for sustenance, or live in apartments with fewer bedrooms than inhabitants (one of my friends managed the rent of her well-appointed one bedroom on the Upper East Side by having three roommates). I just wanted to have dinner out once in a while and not fret about spending $20.

Though I was cash poor, I didn't feel the financial sting as much as I felt the pressure of expectations--of having to show up for work every day; of having to be accountable to a boss. I coped with this pressure with an occasional mental health day, roughly one per quarter, and it was always on a Wednesday, the "Hump Day" as I liked to call it. I figured, I managed to make it half-way through the week, and now I deserve a day before attacking the latter half. But even on these days I read manuscripts; I was never fully free from my job.

My boss was totally onto me: "It's strange that you always tend to get sick on Wednesdays," she once said. No one questioned her when she took "Reading Days" to do nothing but read incoming manuscripts. It made sense to me--she should take days to immerse herself in the titles she bought, but didn't have the opportunity to when in the office. I longed for seniority to make more money, yes, but more importantly, to get to take Reading Days.

Years later I still yearn for Reading Days.