When you’re about to take a reluctant summer sabbatical, you want to step out on a high note. You want to leave wise words for anyone who happens by while you’re away, something a little more pithy than “Back soon, thanks for dropping by.”

This will be my last post until September. It’s a few days late (and for those of you who were wondering, yes, there are still issues with the feed).

As I sat working on a number of uninspiring first drafts, this little gem drifted by on my Twitter stream, from @Marelisa:

“It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan.”
—Eleanor Roosevelt

And within minutes, from @escapeintolife:

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”
— Henry David Thoreau

Puts a few things into perspective, doesn’t it.

If only it were as easy as tacking a couple of inspirational quotes on your bulletin board.

Let me share a little secret: sometimes I want to grab very talented people by their lapels, look deep into their eyes, show them all my teeth and say, “Will you just stop underselling yourself already? This is your freaking profession!”

But it’s not as easy as that, either. Plus scaring people isn’t great for business.

It’s not just how—it’s why
If you’ve followed The Studio Source for any length of time, you will have noticed a recurring theme. There are fewer step-by-step how-to marketing articles in favour of fixing faulty thinking, or shifting to your desired customer’s buying space. And for good reason.

You have to wrap your head around the emotional stuff—your own self-doubt as well as what is most appealing to your best customer.

We’re odd, neurotic creatures. All of us. Society’s attitude towards “artists” isn’t necessarily encouraging, either. Being an artist is a wonderful, sexy idea—until you claim it as your profession. Then the barbarian hordes either smile indulgently, as if you’re trying to learn to tie your own shoes, or treat you like some kind of money-sucking blight on the cultural landscape. To add insult to injury, after curling their collective lip at you, they happily trot off to HomeSense to buy some discounted factory-made piece of crap to stick on their walls or decorate their shelves.

Not that I have an opinion or anything.

It’s hard to move forward with that ugly movie playing in your head. Even the most inspiring how-tos turn thin and pale if you can only see the woman who thinks art is something she buys at the mall, or the guy who believes owning the latest version of PaintShop Photo Pro makes him a designer.

You really get into trouble when you lose sight of why you do what you do. Why you chose your profession, your self-created job, why you decided to build a real, sustainable business.

Commit
You hear the message to follow your passion, but that message is often a half-truth. It’s only partly true because passion is part of the picture. Choosing a profession means you get the whole pie, not just the juicy stuff in the middle. The idea of passion, like the idea of being an artist, isn’t enough. Too many of us, thoroughly trained to recite snappy slogans like mantras, confuse passion with pleasure. Because we don’t want to face the dirty secret about following your passion.

Passion—real, grown-up passion—is not always fun. Sometimes it’s damned hard. It can keep you up at night. Sometimes it can break your heart.

But it’s not supposed to be frolicking-in-the-meadow fun. That’s not what passion is about.

Passion is about sticking with it. It’s about doing everything necessary to make that last assault on the summit, push past mile 25, and kick over every obstacle you come to, even if your knees are bleeding and you’re scared to death.

Passion isn’t freedom from fear. Passion is bigger than fear.

Doing what you love doesn’t have to be about money
If you want to follow the pleasure path, enjoy your avocation. Pick it up whenever the mood strikes, dabble, shrug off the little setbacks, and don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not necessary.

If you don’t want to turn your lifetime obsession into a job, with all the requirements of any viable business, don’t do it. Don’t even consider it.

I’m an avid gardener. No, that’s not true. I’m a rabid gardener. People have suggested I become a professional landscaper or start a greenhouse. It’ll never happen. I won’t turn something I do for myself into an obligation.

It’s not just pleasure. It’s hard work. But I get twitchy if I can’t do it.

And I don’t need to turn it into money. I have other ways to earn a living.

Respect your profession
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve reminded friends and colleagues they’re running a business. That other professionals don’t fret about pricing, or treat themselves and their work with disrespect. You can’t turn your work into a skeleton that won’t stay in the closet and expect to be successful. Or stay sane, for that matter.

Yes, I get it. The marketplace is big, bad and ugly. People make stupid comments, balk at prices, yadda yadda.

Those people aren’t your customers. Their passion lives in another place. Walmart, maybe. Or reality TV.

Forget them.

Find the people who get what you do. The people who want good stuff, not cheap stuff. Their passion lives where you do.

Have your say
Are you guilty of underpricing? Are you secretly (or not so secretly) nervous about your work? What would turn that around? What made you choose your profession?

Related posts:

1. Demystifying features versus benefits
2. How to start a revolution
3. The ins and outs of your first impression (part 1 – work in)

Many creatives I know are also involved in arts organizations. Some serve on the board of directors, some on committees, and others volunteer or donate to special events. Today’s post is written by Maureen Carruthers, who works in the nonprofit sector. When I met Maureen, I was immediately impressed by her thoughtful commitment to her work and her dedication to her community. She has some words of wisdom for both artists and arts organizations to help keep up your mental momentum.

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If you spend any amount of time on the internet, you know there is no shortage of advice on how to make your life, business, and art better.

Most of that advice is about all the new things you need to do to keep up. Blog more often, take more classes, create more genuine relationships—more, more, more.

It’s a lot of pressure. So much that it’s easy to believe you will never be good enough, never know enough, never make enough impact. From that place, one starts to wonder if it’s worth trying to move forward at all. All the well meant advice about how to get better, actually stops us in our tracks.

The same thing happens to organizations.

Look forward and engage
Nonprofit work can feel like shoveling sand off the beach. We create new exciting work, we look for unique ways to engage the community, we reduce ticket prices and fees for service, raise more money to serve more people, and yet, at the end of the day, there is so much more to do—the beach looks exactly the same.

But that’s because we always look toward what’s left to do—the parts of our community we have yet to serve.

In order to keep moving forward, sometimes we have to turn around.

Look back at what you’ve accomplished
Instead of only looking at what’s ahead, refocus some attention each day on the work that’s been completed. There will always be more people to help, new audiences to reach, emerging problems to be solved. But the fact that the task is big, doesn’t mean progress is not being made.

Whether you are an artist who spends most of your time in your own studio, an artist working as part of a larger organization, or even a person who doesn’t identify as an artist at all, it’s essential to treasure your success. These celebrations don’t have to be large. Hang your best work in your studio. Post thank you notes where you will see them every day. Pay attention to the complements people pay you–and write them down so you can revisit them during more difficult times.

Celebrate
Making time to celebrate is not indulgent. It’s not a signal that you are done, or an invitation to rest on your laurels. It’s a necessary part of tackling lofty goals. These small moments of celebration create space for renewal—and renewal is what makes it possible to turn our attention back toward the future and to keep shoveling.

About the author
Maureen Carruthers is passionate about helping nonprofits achieve their missions. For advice and inspiration on helping your favorite nonprofit be heard, including how volunteers can help, visit her blog, Low Hanging Fruit.

Related posts:

1. Look back, move forward – legacies and resolutions
2. If you’re a creative, you can craft great marketing materials
3. Practice the fine art of letting go

I’m supposed to be officially on hiatus for the summer, but I had a half-finished post in the works, which fits nicely between two guest posts, so here I am, breaking curfew.

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I spent the afternoon with a painter friend recently. We talked about her work, about our time in art school (same university, different years), about teaching and drawing, and what it means to be an artist.

We even talked a little about business. But not much.

Not much business talk was necessary. She does great work, and she knows what she needs to do to build her career. How, when, and if she does it is up to her.

You have those same choices.

All that freedom can hang you up sometimes.

Business isn’t complicated
We convince ourselves business is complicated. It may not always be easy, but it’s not complicated.

We make it that way with the things we tell ourselves.

Think about it: you need to send a promotional package to an out of town shop, gallery or client. The package is done; all that’s required is to write a short introduction letter, tuck everything in an envelope, address it, put a stamp on it and mail the damn thing.

Logistically, it’s a simple task. But it can feel very scary.

You don’t want your recipient to say no. Rejection is never any fun. If you’re early in your career, putting yourself out there to risk rejection can feel like the world is about to end. If you have some experience, you might be just plain tired of being told “No thank you.”

Never say never
Except “No” might really mean “Not yet.” It might mean you sent the wrong pictures. Maybe you sent pictures of large work and they need small things.

“No” might mean the potential client you think is a perfect fit might need a little time to get to know you better.

It might just be a matter of time, or you might need to ask a few questions. But you won’t know if you don’t send that package.

And you’ll never know if you don’t follow up.

When you choose to back away from the things you need to do to grow your professional creative practice, you don’t need to worry about someone telling you no.

You do it to yourself instead.

Sticking yourself in the rut
The more you say no the easier it gets. No risk, no rejection, no consequences, no worries.

But there are consequences. No challenge, no growth, no confidence.

Maybe you’ll get lucky and be discovered without ever trying. Maybe that one client will come looking for you—the one who opens up all the doors you never dreamed possible.

And, since we’re going down that road, maybe you’ll spend your spare time perched on a swing in your mother’s backyard singing “Someday My Prince will Come.”

It sounds ridiculous when you see it in black and white, but you know how easy it is to fall into that rut of wishing instead of doing.

Reclaim the space inside your head
What if you stop beating yourself up right now?

What if you decide to be open to the possibility of yes rather than drenching your psyche in dread?

What if you turn every significant contact, positive or negative, into a neutral learning experience? (As in, think carefully about what went right, what didn’t, and whether or not you need to refine anything, as opposed to rolling your eyes as you tell yourself you’re building more character.)

There are times when you should say no. Chronically negative or vindictive people who try to worm their way into your life. The wrong show. The client who is so unreasonable you never want to work with them again.

Obviously, when someone gives you a definitive no, you need to respect that. But you have to respect yourself and your profession, too. There is a point where you have to draw the line, when you have to stop telling yourself no just to avoid hearing it from someone else.

Have your say
Do you give yourself too many “no” messages? Do you avoid promoting your work so you can avoid rejection?

Related posts:

1. Find your Unique Selling Proposition without really trying
2. Don’t tell me – show me
3. Put four Ps in your creative marketing

I studied what was supposed to be graphic design in community college. It was a lame course with an unqualified teacher, which is partly why I didn’t become a graphic designer. Most of what I know now is self-taught. I wish I’d met today’s guest post author, Pamela Wilson, a lot sooner. Pamela is one of those people who has a knack for explaining complicated concepts in plain English. She makes graphic design principles seem downright sensible. So if you don’t yet have the cash to hire a designer for your marketing materials and need to do it yourself, listen up. Pamela has some good advice for you.

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You may not know it now, but by the end of this post I aim to convince you that you already have the tools you need to create marketing materials that present your work in its best light.

The Studio Source is devoted to helping you implement marketing efforts that will make your business stand out from the rest. If you absorb what Stacey shares here, you’ll know how to position your business to be memorable for the long term.

My blog, the Big Brand System, is devoted to sharing information that helps small businesses make the marketing materials they’ll use to promote themselves. I’m a graphic designer, and some people have said that the Big Brand System is going to put my design studio out of business.

That’s ridiculous, and here’s why:

You’re Not My Customer
My clients are organizations who have large marketing budgets. My fees aren’t cheap, so I can only work with companies who can afford me.

I suppose that sounds like I’m showing off, but after being in the design business for over 20 years, I bring lots of experience to the table, and my fees reflect that.

At the same time, it has been frustrating for me. I’ve met many people over the years who really need the help of someone like me. When you have a very small business, polished, professional marketing materials can give you an advantage when you compete with other businesses for the attention of your target market.

Oftentimes I’ve stopped and helped. I create a basic website, or a set of brochures, or a presentation kit that helps that person go out into the world with a piece that tells their story and sells what they offer.

In the Old Days
When I first worked as a designer back in the late 1980s, our work was done manually. Clients gave us typewritten pages, and we marked them with our instructions and sent them out to a typesetting service. The next day, a courier service would deliver galleys: photo paper that had the typeset text output on long, glossy pages.

We’d take the galleys and slice them with our X-acto knives and use rubber cement to glue them onto mechanical boards. These boards were sent to a printer to be photographed. It was a time-consuming and hands-on process.

The Big Secret
Fast forward to today. If you’re reading this blog, you own a computer that does more than I could do at my drafting table as a professional graphic designer back in the 1980s. The ability to type on a keyboard and see the results on a screen in front of you before you printed them out didn’t exist at that time.

The big secret I’m here to tell you is if you know what to do with the powerful tool you’re sitting in front of, you can create beautiful and effective marketing materials for your business.

Rules and Skills
Like any skill you want to learn, graphic design and marketing have some basic rules you need to master before you can do them successfully. And like any new skill, the more you practice it, the better you’ll get at it.

It is worth the effort to master these skills. Why? Because no one is more passionate about seeing your business succeed than you. No ad agency or design studio you hire can match the enthusiasm and energy you’ll devote to creating crowd-pulling marketing.

Learn, Apply, Grow
I encourage you to pay attention to what Stacey shares here. Apply it to your business and observe the results. Make adjustments if needed, and try again.

Learn what you can about design, too. Once you’re mastered some basic design skills, you can take the powerful tool you’re sitting in front of and make beautiful pieces that will help your business shine.

You’re a creative person, so you have an advantage over the rest of the population. You’ve already been exposed to color theory, composition basics and how to really “see.” Your learning curve for design skills should be much shorter.

I challenge you to try it. Learn about typography, copywriting and white space. Add these skills to your toolbox and use them in your business marketing. Before you know it, you’ll have the most passionate, eager person in the world working on your marketing: you!

About the author: Pamela Wilson helps people grow their business with great design and marketing. Want to know more? Get her free Design 101 e-course at her site, BigBrandSystem.com

Related posts:

1. What happens when you try too hard (Marketing 101 revisited)
2. Seven ways to shape your brand
3. Put four Ps in your creative marketing

There are times when you find yourself reflecting on the choices you make. Like when you’re laying in the middle of your driveway, reflecting on the laws of physics and the frailty of the human body.

Allow me to elaborate.

A lesson in physics
I walk my dogs on long leads. Several days ago, as we set out on our usual morning walk, something flashed across the end of the driveway. It was either one of the neighbourhood cats or a hare. I can’t say which because it was moving too fast to identify. The dogs took off, I started running behind them, then one of them suddenly changed direction, and I went down like a gazelle on the savannah. The lions (or in this case, the wolves) abandoned me, apparently far more interested in pursuing smaller prey.

I remember the instant of impact. I’m not even remotely prone to falling, so I vividly remember being shocked at the force when I hit the gravel. I rolled after I fell, but don’t recall how many times.

I figured I wasn’t in nearly enough pain to be seriously injured, but I wasn’t interested in getting up, either.

I considered gathering the dogs before they got into trouble, but I still wasn’t interested in getting up.

I pulled my right hand out from under me and discovered gouges on the heel of my hand. “Great,” I thought, “That’s going to leave some scars.” Didn’t look forward to cleaning the dirt out of the worst one. But that would have to wait a few minutes.

I finally got to my feet and retrieved the dogs, who were in the woods, still frantically sniffing for the mysterious beast that instigated the big adventure. I got them back into the house, cleaned and dressed my hand, inspected the road rash on my left knee (minor) and hip (impressive), and got on with my day, planning my next blog post. The worst of it seemed to be my hand. I couldn’t grasp anything without irritating it, or type very well.

But then there was a second crash. Two days later, my twitchy metabolism let me know I finally pushed it too far. I crawled into bed and stayed there for a day and a half.

Five days after the big fall, I sat across from my doctor and felt the extraordinary ambivalence that comes with the words, “Can you stop work for a while? Can you take the summer off?”

The prospect of having a summer off is like being a kid and finding out school is ending a month early. On the other hand, several weeks without your usual income is okay if you qualify for employment insurance or short term disability, but if you’re self-employed? Not so great. Not even if you have a backup income in the form of a significant other, because your business is still new, and you really don’t want to find it in a shambles when the respite is over.

Like I said, ambivalence.

The hazards of self-employment
My health is a delicate balance at the best of times. I don’t much like discussing it, because I don’t define who I am by my current circumstances. Mostly I’m able to keep myself in running order, but the rigors of a new startup and occasional forays to the land of Forbidden Food left me a little too close to the edge.

The whole “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” thing pretty much did it. To make a long, complicated story short: I’m in the middle of a massive energy crisis.

A tough choice and clear lesson
So there’s a choice to be made: try to keep going with a partially charged battery and scale back as much as humanly possible, or hit the Pause button for a couple of months and let the battery charge fully.

Neither choice feels exactly right for various reasons. But there is one smart choice.

And the only guarantee is there will be lessons learned along the way.

The big lesson so far is simple: I shouldn’t have tried to ramp up a new business while winding down another one. An overlap seems logical, but things haven’t gone as planned. Since I haven’t had enough energy or clarity of thought, I’m not doing anything particularly well.

When you think you’re done, but you’re not
I didn’t expect the sense of loss that came with the decision to wrap up my bricks and mortar artisan venture. I couldn’t grow it the way I wanted to, so instead of driving myself (and everyone around me) crazy bemoaning the fact, I decided to move on to something else. It sounded good, but when I started telling people, I realized I wasn’t entirely relieved. I also had to keep things running until the announced end date. It’s been surprisingly difficult to keep my head in the right place with it.

The best laid plans get bigger than you expect
I was surprised by the amount of work that came with building and marketing an online business. I’d also conveniently forgotten about the standard package of freakouts that come with any new startup. Add to that the demands of running a second business, even though it’s winding down, and the load gets heavier than you ever could have anticipated.

Business, like life, is funny that way.

Check the space between your ears
There’s a big pile of coping in my world. I require more sleep than most humans, which shortens my work day, and have a list of food sensitivities as long as my arm, which strains my sense of humour.

That’s my baseline.

There are also the above-mentioned businesses that need tending.

This may not seem logical, but I discovered it’s not the number of tasks that get you, it’s the consciousness required to keep everything sorted and moving in the right direction. There’s a point where you want to throw yourself down in the middle of the floor and wail like a two-year-old, or do something stupid like eat an entire carton of ice cream, or drink way too much. While that may be cathartic in the moment, there can be consequences (I don’t recommend having the tantrum in the middle of the frozen food section of the grocery store, for example, and no, I did not do that). It may be a pleasant break from your routine, but the work is still there when you’re done.

Taking theory into practice requires a master translator
Yes, I know. This all looks very good in writing, and it seems simple to avoid these painfully obvious problems. But we’re complex creatures—ingenious, creative, resourceful, but when you translate theory into practice, we often discover we’re really not that bright.

Or maybe that’s just me.

But what’s true for most of us is it’s hard to see the big picture when you’re in the middle of it. It often takes a good shakeup to get you to see what’s really going on, and sometimes the only way to deal with a difficult situation is to step out of it.

Ironically, the unexpected meeting with the driveway happened just as things were starting to settle with both businesses and I was getting ahead of the stress. I’m going to tell myself that, anyway. It sounds better to blame irony than to say “My dogs saw a bunny and I fell down.” I’ll save that little gem for when I’m sitting in my recliner in my fancy sweatsuit watching Wheel of Fortune.

What the future holds
I’ll heed my doctor’s advice and spend the summer in my garden, contemplating the mysteries of sorrel and hawkweed. I’ll do my damn stress prevention yoga routine, take my extra supplements, go to bed at 10pm as ordered, and we’ll see what transpires come September.

Over the next couple of weeks, I hope to introduce you to a couple of my friends and colleagues. They’re busy business owners too, so if they aren’t able to finish their guest posts before I officially hang up my Gone Fishin’ sign, we’ll just postpone the introductions.

The moral of the story
I’m writing this story instead of making a short announcement because someone might find some value in my experiences. Like, say, instead of following my stellar example, have a contingency plan in place in case your doctor “suggests” you take some time off work before you do yourself some serious damage.

I’m also writing this because a three week gap would be downright flaky. I believe in being consistent with your brand and your marketing presence, and while I don’t have the illusion that any of us are machines, I also realize that you, dear reader, have reasonable expectations, and continued silence is no way to treat people whose attention I value.

Have your say
Have you ever been faced with choices you’re just not happy with? Does your brain ever elbow your gut out of the way?  Do you have a contingency plan for your own business?

Related posts:

1. Selling and the Myth of Everybody
2. Find your Unique Selling Proposition without really trying
3. Acting, vacuum cleaners and a good story

I want to get the words, “There’s no such thing as everybody” printed on a t-shirt. I’ve been thinking lately about the alleged necessity to sell online. Some creatives are doing it and getting great results. Others, not so much. And there are plenty more who haven’t yet jumped on board.

I’m not much into bandwagons or one-size-fits-all thinking. Not with t-shirts, and definitely not in business.

Here’s a little anecdote: recently I had a conversation with a couple of women about online shopping. Specifically, artisan-made jewellery. They were both 40-ish, and neither was too thrilled with the idea of buying jewellery online.

“I want to see it, touch it, try it on,” said one of them, “It’s our generation. And we’re the ones with money.”

I thought that was an interesting response, so I asked someone else the same question and got an entirely different answer. The second person in my highly scientific poll said he and his wife had no problem buying jewellery online. They’re probably in their early to mid-30′s.

I wouldn’t bet the farm, or a business, on this extremely small, very subjective sampling. But it got me to thinking about ideal customers, their buying habits, and how tough it can be to decide whether or not to make the leap into selling online.

Playing the numbers game
Let’s look at the flip side: statistics. As I started writing this, I did a quick search on “online jewelry sales statistics” (used the American spelling to get more results) and among the top results, got a nicely written article about how sales were on the increase—dated 2002.

Take out the word “jewelry” and you can get stats that say online sales of jewelry in January 2010 were up 6% in the US from January of 2009.

Yes, I know. Take out the word you want stats on and you get stats on the thing you were looking for. This is why doing statistical research online drives me half crazy.

I got that figure from the International Diamond Exchange website, but I didn’t bookmark the page and now (five minutes later) I can’t find the blasted thing. So, okay, a 6% increase is promising. But the figures don’t specify what kind of jewellery. They make mention of bridal jewellery sales being on an upswing, but again—are we talking major retailers and artisan made jewellery, or just factory-made items? It’s probably the latter.

If you’re curious, I tried finding numbers on artisan-made jewellery. I didn’t have all night to slog past the sites that tell you how to turn your hobby into cash or that you should sell online.

It’s no wonder people who run micro businesses don’t want to go down this road. It’s frustrating and time consuming and doesn’t necessarily give you good results. At least not without some serious digging.

And even if I did find numbers, they wouldn’t break down into categories that will be of any help to you if you’re a silversmith, lampwork bead maker, or off-loom bead weaver. You can’t get there from here.

Real people, real opinions
If you want good information on who’s buying what and where they’re buying it, you’d be wise to go to the source—the customers themselves. Preferably your customers.

If you have a mailing list, send out a survey with specific questions. Offer an incentive to people who respond—a gift certificate, or a coupon for a small amount of design or consulting time. It doesn’t have to be something big, just something to let your people know you value their time and input.

You should also ask very nicely, and make the introduction very warm and personal. And the questions shouldn’t be corporate. Be real, be gracious, and exercise good humour. That way your survey won’t seem so much like a survey. Approach your readers like they’re respected colleagues and collaborators on your fact-finding mission. And keep it short. You don’t want to abuse your mailing list.

If you have the opportunity to see some of your customers in person, you can get immediate information. Ask their opinion about trends—in general, and if they’re going along for the ride, or if they’d rather let the bandwagon roll on by.

You can ask other people in your field. Don’t limit yourself to your own medium. Somebody will know someone who can tell you more.

Throw a question out on social media, or on your blog. Say please and thank you, and ask away. Responses will vary depending on your question and the size and nature of your audience.

Combine your resources to get a comprehensive picture
When you’ve gathered all the information you can, from the generalities of published statistics to face-to-face feedback, you’ll have a reasonable view of the online landscape.

If your customers are online shoppers, you’re in business. But remember you still have to do the marketing. There’s no gallery owner or show organizer to spread the word. That should be obvious, but if you’re not used to doing all your own marketing, it’s easy to forget that little detail.

If it’s not yet time, or if you just can’t wrap your head around the whole online enterprise thing, my best advice to you is to watch carefully. Social media numbers continue to grow at a wild pace, particularly among people 35 years of age and older. Online shopping numbers continue to grow.

And there are still plenty of businesses that don’t need online buying to be profitable. Smart entrepreneurs know where their customers are, what they want, and how to deliver, and are always mindful of the evolving marketplace.

Have your say
Are you an avid online shopper, or are there things you just don’t want to buy online? Are you an online seller, contrarian, or sitting on the fence? Do you have any tips of your own to share about gathering online intelligence?

Related posts:

1. A cautionary tale about online selling
2. Beware the business guru
3. Two important lessons learned in a car showroom

A craftsperson once told me a story about a couple who remarked how much fun her work must be. She replied, “Well it would be if someone actually bought something!”

The craftsperson was having a bad day.

The nice people went away.

There’s a school of thought that seems to suggest if you do something you’re passionate about, it must be all kinds of fun, all the time.

You know better.

There are days when you get a little frustrated. And there are those days when you want to throw in the towel, snap your paintbrush in two, pitch your computer out the window, or strike the word “creative” from the collective vocabulary until the end of time.

Okay, maybe that last one is just me. But whatever your frustrations are, they’re best expressed with discretion.

Listen carefully to bridge the gap
When you encounter someone who sees creative pursuits as fun, it might be because she considers your work a hobby. That person might be a lost cause. But it’s possible “work” in her world is something decidedly not fun. It doesn’t occur to her that artists, designers, writers and other creatives work as hard as anyone else.

She might think that way because she needs to believe it’s true. She needs to believe there’s something better that what she’s currently stuck with, and on that particular day, her “something better” is you.

So what do you do with that?

Our craftsperson could have said something like, “It’s not fun all the time. I have to do a lot of production, and that’s hard work. But as far as jobs go, this one is pretty great. What kind of work do you do?”

People like it when you show interest in them. Once you create a little rapport, you can steer the conversation back to what you have for sale.

At the very least, you can help one more person understand what you do for a living.

Watch for emotion and enhance the experience
Or you could follow those words to their source. When someone responds to your work, what she says simply reflects how she feels about it. “Doing this must be so much fun!” is pure emotion. It’s a mighty good feeling, too.

You can take that sentiment and turn it into an experience your potential customer wants to take home with her. You can chat with her a little, giving her a glimpse into your creative practice. That could be enough for her to decide she’d like to buy something.

If she doesn’t buy, she still leaves with a good impression of you and an interesting story to tell her friends—you did remember to tell her something interesting, yes? She might come back or one of her friends might come looking for you.

Get out of your own head and pay attention. If you do it right, what starts as a frustrating comment can end with a sale.

Share your opinion
What’s the best comment you ever got from a customer? What’s the worst comment you’ve ever heard? Have you ever turned a strange encounter into a great selling opportunity?

Related posts:

1. What to do when you’re nervous
2. Break your routine
3. The other big problem with marketing

Let’s go to dinner. My treat. You’ll love the restaurant and get something unexpected to take home with you.

Our maître ‘d is gracious and welcoming. We immediately feel like honoured guests as he seats us at a softly lit table with a pristine white tablecloth and sparkling silverware.

The room is filled with quiet conversation and easy laughter that weaves its way through the mellow sound of the gleaming baby grand piano in the corner. We settle in and ready ourselves for what’s to come.

The chef has prepared our menu.

Salad
The meal begins with pear and walnut salad, chilled to perfection. Artisan-made dishes complement the salad perfectly, and the server delivers it with such subtlety it seems as if the food has materialized out of thin air. We’re hungry, but eat slowly, savouring each bite and soaking in the delicious atmosphere of the place.

There’s just enough of a pause between courses.

Soup
Next is roasted red pepper soup garnished with fresh oregano and parsley. The aroma and texture are heavenly. The soup is accompanied by a small platter with fresh rosemary bread, roasted garlic, and olive oil lightly flavoured with basil pesto for dipping. We’re each presented with side plates and small, beautifully crafted knives to spread the garlic.

Once we’ve caused the soup and contents of platter to disappear, we wait for the next course, contemplating our Sauvignon Blanc as it catches the light through hand blown glasses. The server hasn’t changed the wine, so we anticipate something fresh and flavourful.

We are not disappointed.

Main course
Our now-beloved server delivers unto us lemon risotto with fiddleheads and asparagus, and grilled halibut garnished with lemon and a spring of rosemary. The vegetables taste fresh-picked, and the fish likely came from the wharf just a few hours ago. We’re rendered nearly speechless, except to ruminate on the nature of Nirvana and how sad it is the food probably isn’t as good as it is here.

We take a break before moving on to dessert, enjoying each other’s company and the sense of ease the proprietors have created for their guests. There’s original art on the walls, the lighting is modern but subtle, the chairs are comfortable, and the round table is the perfect size for intimate conversation as well as leisurely dining.

And dessert
We decline ice wine in favour of black tea. Almond cake, topped with delicate slivers of dark chocolate, arrives soon after. We stretch out the final course as long as we can, delaying the inevitable end of our evening.

*  *  *

Still with me? Give your head a shake—we’re about to make a small change to our feast.

Let’s serve our magnificent meal in a cafeteria.

Change the context, change the story
We’re greeted by the harsh blue zombie-like tinge and incessant hum of fluorescent tube lighting. That sound is mercifully dampened by the dull roar of the ventilation system. The walls are concrete, painted some headache-inducing combination of beige and faded red. There’s canned music piped in from the ceiling—tinny instrumental covers of hits from the 1980′s and ’90′s.

We pick up our food from a serving line. No courses—get it all at once or get lost. The dishes, cutlery and soup bowls are plastic, and the wine comes in a styrofoam cup.

The ambience doesn’t exactly jive with the food, does it.

Let’s try another variation: a Country & Western bar, complete with live band.

It’s the same meal. Does it still feel like lovingly prepared gourmet fare? You might decide it’s exactly the same and try to argue the setting doesn’t matter. But how does it feel? And what kind of price tag would you assign to each experience?

Granted, the above shift is a pretty extreme, but you get the point. And it leads to an important question: what “story” do you tell when you show your work to the world?

Context tells your story
Putting your work in the right context has a powerful impact on the way your audience perceives it. Your story is crafted from more than just what you create. It’s how you introduce yourself and your work to your customers—your words, the design of your website, pricing, the venues you choose, even your business card.

No detail is a throwaway.

Your customer may only be able to afford a salad, or she may only want dessert, but if you do it right, she’ll remember you and the care you took to create an experience that made her feel like an important guest rather than just another sale. She may come back wanting another salad—or she might decide she wants a four-course dinner.

Create an unforgettable experience
It’s not about how much money you spend—although at some point most of us have to invest real money in our businesses—it’s about the thought you put into every aspect of your brand and your marketing message. It’s about the story you tell.

Telling a good story isn’t about picking a theme and jamming it down the throats of your audience. There’s a big difference between funky and tacky, or between elegant and done to death. A good story creates context. Context creates atmosphere. Atmosphere seeps into the consciousness of your audience. Just like the ambience in an elegant restaurant, the context you create stays with your customers. They associate that feeling with you.

You don’t have to turn yourself inside out or agonize over every tiny detail. Just ask yourself: does this complement my work and reputation or detract from it?

Your brand is every experience your customer has with you and your business. When you align your marketing message with the quality and spirit of your work, you create an extraordinary brand.

Your turn
What do you think—do you believe context matters? Is the idea of a brand something you care about? Does presentation influence your buying decisions? Is the best way to learn about branding and marketing through your stomach?

Related posts:

1. Selling and the Myth of Everybody
2. A branding case study and a virtual field trip, part 2
3. How intention makes a brand – a quick case study

A little while ago I had a conversation with life and creativity coach Dawn Kotzer. I like Dawn. She lives farther out in the woods than I do, appreciates the power of metaphor, and knows her stuff, inside and out—particularly the inside part.

We were talking about being stretched too thin and what that does to your psyche and professional life when she posed a slightly terrifying question:

“What if you did nothing at all?”

Just for a while. To give my team (for those of you with scorecards, I have a team of one—that would be me) some time to rest.

Nothing?

Cue the anxiety train, thundering toward the level crossing. My unicycle has stalled. Personal Armageddon is bearing down on me at 100 miles per hour.

“They’d forget me in half a second.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course not. I didn’t say I was being rational. I was just answering the question.”

(Practicing self-deprecating humour in unanticipated moments of glaring self-doubt is something I highly recommend. Does wonders for one’s perspective.)

Freakout trumps logic
I know how fast the Internet moves. Today’s Big Thing is in tomorrow’s Hall of Lame. But I also know disappearing off the face of the virtual earth for a week or so wouldn’t render me permanently invisible.

An unexpected question in an unguarded moment triggered a response I knew made no sense, but it didn’t stop me from going there. It was fascinating and a little embarrassing to watch how fast it happened and how badly it threw me, even though I got over myself almost as soon as I said the words.

Knowing a reaction isn’t rational doesn’t always stop the fragile human ego from getting tangled up in a trip wire. Not even when ego and trap are both in full view.

Our curious emotional afflictions
We are not rational creatures. Emotion is one of the things that makes us gifted artists, storytellers and inventors. It’s also what turns us into self-conscious, insecure lunatics.

For creatives, being ignored is the place nightmares come from. Not making money is only part of the big ugly picture titled “Failure.” It’s not just about the money. If it was, you’d have chosen another profession, like corporate accounting (not to cast aspersions on corporate accountants, but if you’re in that line of work and decide to get creative, you might find yourself in a fetching orange jumpsuit).

Artists, craftspeople, writers, designers—we want to be noticed. Appreciated. Just like everyone else. But unlike some other professions, necks get stuck out farther, souls are laid a little more bare. The personal stakes are higher, because it’s you on the line. Every time.

You want to leave your mark on the world. If you didn’t, you’d never try for a show or a sale. Being ignored, or forgotten, might even feel worse than someone hating your work.

Sometimes that pushes you to work to the limits of your endurance. Sometimes the desire to avoid that feeling is so strong you become paralyzed and do little or nothing to get your message out.

Obviously, neither of those strategies work particularly well.

Turn the irrational into an ally
The next time you feel like you just can’t face the beast called Marketing, consider this: your potential buyers are just as human as you are. They have quirks and neuroses and when presented with a particular set of circumstances, turn into self-conscious, insecure lunatics.

Your customers like to feel important, too. They thrive on attention, enjoy the occasional compliment, and want to know they’re more than just another face in the crowd.

Your marketing message isn’t just about you getting noticed. It’s also about how you make your buyers feel, from the moment you introduce yourself—online, in print, or in person—to the time you deliver the finished work.

Buying involves emotion. The quality and intensity varies depending on the individual and the nature of the purchase, but it’s there. Always. When you approach marketing with empathy, you can create a space for you and your buyer that changes “us and them” into just “us.” Your customers become collaborators. You can worry less about proving yourself worthy, because you’re more interested in extending a sincere invitation to people who share common ground.

When you shift your thinking from the business of marketing to connecting with people as real as you are, getting your message out becomes a creative act in itself.

What do you think—is no attention worse than negative attention? Do you get so caught up in the business end of business you forget there are real people out there?

Related posts:

1. The free marketing resource you shouldn’t do without
2. How to turn frustration into an opportunity
3. What to do when you’re nervous

Once upon a time, a long time ago, I had a job interview. It was a technical writing gig. I can’t recall the name of the company.

My throat tightened the minute I saw the sea of cubicles. I got downright jumpy when I met with the interviewers. There were two of them and me, in a small room. I suspected they were recent university graduates, and it quickly became clear they were both big fans of pre-programmed conversations.

They asked a few perfunctory questions, then started on the hypothetical quiz section. How did I feel about office politics? Could I give examples? How did I feel about the situation I encountered?

It was like I’d been sucked into The Matrix. I found myself fighting a nearly irresistible urge to bolt for the door.

“I’m not comfortable gossiping about a past job to get a new one. If I were the type, I’d give you my unvarnished opinion of the self-important jerk who took credit for someone else’s work, and exactly how that poisons a workplace. And if you’re asking me that question, I have to wonder what kind of culture you have here.”

But I didn’t say that out loud.

I gave them a sanitized version of the story, reluctantly jumping through their hoops, the desire for a cleansing hot shower growing stronger with every word.

Then things got interesting
When they finally got to the big question—why I wanted to work for the company—I did the unthinkable. I deliberately blew the interview.

“I don’t want a career. I want to do work I’m passionate about.”

I can’t remember if they asked me about writing.

I do recall two very clear realizations: first, I could never work in Cube Land again. Second, and this was striking: way too many job interviews are stellar examples of how to not get your message out.

Put the textbook down, and back away quickly
Far too often, marketing, like a bad job interview, becomes a meaningless ritual. You go through what you think are the correct motions. You sanitize your words to mimic corporate-speak, because corporations are successful, so you figure that’s the way it should be done. Formal. By the book. Non-threatening.

You tell people what you think they want to hear. You don’t dare talk about what you can’t—or won’t—deliver, because you might not get the business.

You water down who you are and what you really want to do.

You settle, too fast and too easily.

And you end up miserable.

A big opportunity and a big decision
A couple of years later, I had another interview. This one was for a vice president’s position at a small company that did cool creative work. I must have made a good impression, because shortly after the meeting they called and asked if I could come in for a few days, to see if it was a good fit before everything was finalized.

I thought hard, but not long. I didn’t want to admit it and lose out on the opportunity, but I knew even before the offer was made I’d rather be in the shop making stuff than in the office talking about it.

I turned it down.

The salary and the title were very tempting. But I knew I couldn’t give them what they wanted, or what they deserved. They couldn’t give me what I wanted, either.

I remained self-employed, for a lot less money.

On rare occasions, I still wonder if I was out of my mind.

This much I’m sure of: the source of those choices wasn’t madness. What I said was the simple truth, and both times the words just fell out of my mouth. I don’t have to fake excitement when I talk about making things, or telling stories, or pushing past stale, stiff, inflicted limitations to do your best work. Because those things matter.

Where good marketing comes from
When you talk about the work you’re truly passionate about, you don’t have to force your words or ideas. That’s the place the best marketing comes from, because it’s the place the best stories are made. It’s good because you mean it. It’s good because it’s true.

The people who love what you create hear that message, loud and clear. They’re listening for it.

When do you do your best blurting? Have you ever had a great opportunity turn out to be a big disappointment? How do you feel about turning down work when you know it’s not right for you?

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2. Lessons learned in art school
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