The actual experience of creating something is often very different from our ideas about creativity.

Creativity is described as fun, exciting, motivating, exhilarating.

Creating … well, just look around online or get together with friends and colleagues, and you’ll hear people talk about discipline, struggle, and fear.  They describe wrestling with writing and beating projects into submission.

Ouch.

Creation is the process of changing state from where we are today, with our creation as an idea or a work in progress, towards the finished result – and towards the ripple of additional results that arise when we create something and release it into the world.

There’s an inherent tension at play during this process of creation:  the tension caused by the discrepancy between what we have today (an idea or a work in progress) versus what we want to create (our goal, the desired end result).

This tension is no small thing, especially when we’re not completely clear on how we’re getting to that end result … or about what will happen when we arrive.

Yet the tension is necessary for creation to happen.  You must be aware of the difference between here and now and the desired future result of your completed creation.

The problem comes when we believe that the discomfort we feel in the middle of this creative tension is something we have to fix or get rid of before we can get on with creating what we want.  And that leads us down any number of side tracks off the main path of creating – side tracks that are all about trying to know things we can’t know, and leading to a single off-course destination:  procrastination.

Common side tracks include trying figure out how to be certain about what this creation will actually do for us; trying to overcome our fear about what could happen when the creation is complete; trying to know exactly what each step of the creation process will look like; and trying to silence the voices of doubt and “not enough” in our heads.  And of course we all have our own favorite side tracks off this path of creating what we want.

Going down those side tracks is what creates the struggle and the sense that we’re wrestling with our creation or having to beat it into submission.

Of course I’m not saying that we should blindly race down the path of creation without considering whether the end result will actually be, do, or give us what we want.  Nor am I saying that we should rush madly into creating something without any sort of plan or idea of what’s involved.

I am saying that when we can be comfortable with the discomfort of creating, we will be happier, more productive, and much more likely to bring our ideas into reality.

Recently, I’ve been noticing how it feels when I seduce my work, flirt with it, play with it, romp with it, get curious about it, engage it in meaningful discussion, and laugh with it.

That may sound odd, but it’s no weirder than wrestling with it, struggling with it, or trying to beat it into submission.  And – no surprise, I’m sure – it’s a ton more fun, and the results are better, arrive more quickly, and feel more satisfying.

Plus, I have a lot more energy available to start engaging with my next creation.

Up until very recently, I would do what I call “tiny-bite work”:  small projects and short-term consultations.  I thought I was serving the needs of people who were concerned about cash flow, but still wanted to work incrementally.  And I thought small projects were important to help introduce people to who I am, how I work, and the value they get from working with me.

But the more I did this, the more I saw how incremental work isn’t very effective.  When what you really need is to dig in and go deep to understand your business from a bigger perspective and see the threads that weave all the pieces together, taking a tiny bite at a time isn’t going to work.

Instead, it just prolongs the struggle to make progress.

Ultimately, you’ll probably get there.  But it will almost certainly cost more money and take more time.  Sometimes a LOT more money and a LOT more time.  And it will almost certainly be a painful process.

I see this tiny-bite syndrome in many travelers on the self-employment journey – clients, colleagues, friends, and, of course, myself.  Looking back on my own journey, I see how many times I might have gone for digging in and going deep, but I held back because I didn’t think I could afford it.  And so I bought tiny bites:  a little coaching here, a lower-cost “blueprint for success” program there, with books and teleclasses scattered throughout to season the mix.

And I wondered why my work was moving so slowly. 

So I don’t do tiny-bite work any more.  I’ve developed a clear sense of what will help my clients get where they want to go, I offer larger, intensive services that I know will work.

Is it arrogant of me to take the choice away?  Well, not really; this is my business, after all.  There are plenty of other options out there if someone is sure that incremental work is what they want, or feel that a tiny bite is exactly what they need in this moment.  I’m certainly not implying that a single coaching call or a book or teleclass is never the right answer; sometimes they’re exactly the right answer.  I have a few teleclasses and books that I offer as introductions to my ideas and style.

I simply feel that it’s my responsibility to do the biggest portion of my work in ways that produce real and lasting results for my clients – results that are both transformative for them and meaningful to me.

We’ve all had the experience of working with clients who aren’t a good match.

And once we’ve done it, we know we never want to do it again.  Misfit clients take up more time, energy, and overall bandwidth than our best clients ever could.   We don’t have fun working with them.  We flinch when we see their names pop up in our email or on our phone’s caller ID.

It’s not their fault.  It’s not our fault.  No one is doing anything “wrong.”  It’s just a mismatch:  whatever it is that they want and need isn’t in alignment with what we offer … even if it appears to be in alignment.

And that, of course, is the tricky part.

Because unless we’ve got a very finely-tuned intuitive sense, how can we reliably, consistently, and accurately detect when someone isn’t right for us, especially if what they’re asking for seems to be exactly what we do best?

Sometimes, of course, it’s obvious.  Sometimes all it takes is that initial conversation and we know we need to refer the client on to someone else. 

But sometimes that voice of intuition raises warning flags and we just don’t pay attention.  Maybe the voice is too soft and the flags are too small; maybe our bank accounts are waving bigger flags and screaming more loudly.  Whatever it is, we agree to work with these clients despite the doubt or concern we feel.

Once we’re into the situation, the only thing we can do is fulfill our commitment as quickly and painlessly as possible, bringing the engagement to a close as fast as we can while remaining in integrity.

But wouldn’t it be nice to avoid the issue right from the start?  Wouldn’t it be grand to have a way to detect misfit clients before they ever become clients?

During a conversation with a colleague earlier this week, I suddenly realized that when we know our Unique Value, we have that early warning system.

(I keep saying that knowing our Unique Value makes everything easier.  And I keep discovering new ways that this is true.)

Knowing my own Unique Value, I also know when I’m feeling out of touch and disconnected from it.  I know how it feels to be pushed out of alignment or off balance.  And so if I’m talking with a potential client and it seems like I’m struggling to stay plugged in to my Unique Value, I start paying very close attention.  What’s actually happening here?  Is this person really someone I will be able to do my best work with – or should I politely suggest that they find someone else?

It still requires listening to the quiet internal voice, and it still requires not letting the sometimes-louder voice of financial concerns or other “shoulds” become overpowering.  But I know that I don’t enjoy my work when it isn’t coming from the strength and wholeness of my Unique Value.  I also know that even though I’ll try my utmost, I simply can’t do my best work in those situations. 

And now I know that all I have to do is pay attention to the unfailingly accurate indicator of my Unique Value – or rather, my connection or disconnection with my Unique Value.  And how cool is it to know that as long as I pay attention, I’ll never have to extricate myself from another uncomfortable situation with a misfit client!

We get so caught up in our own world.

We think about our marketing, we think about our bank accounts, and we think about our work.

And we sometimes forget that whatever it is that we do, we’re touching other people’s lives.  They depend on us.  We make a difference to them. 

Let me repeat that.

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE TO THEM.

We can’t ever forget that.  We must never get so caught up in our schedules, to-do lists, fears, or even in our joy of being able to do what we do … that we forget it’s about them, not us.

Whatever it is that we do – whether we’re a business consultant or a life coach, a counselor or an energy worker, a massage therapist or an artist or a writer - whatever we are, whatever we do, we’re messing with people’s lives and with their work.  We’re messing with their ability to keep people on staff … or lay them off.  We’re messing with their livelihood and whether or not they have a positive bank balance and can pay their bills and put food on the table.  We’re messing with how they relate to themselves and the people they love and their sense of who they are in the world.

Yes, seriously.  The advice we give them is that big.  The info-product we sell them has the potential to be that life-changing.  The way we touch them, physically and emotionally, is that meaningful.

It’s easy to focus on ourselves.  It’s easy to think about our own needs and our own schedules.  And we do need to do that; I’m not suggesting otherwise.  We can’t help others if we aren’t grounded in who we are and what we need, what nourshies us.  We can’t help others if we don’t find joy and growth and meaning in what we do. 

But I don’t ever want to be so busy or complacent or fearful that I forget that my work isn’t really about me.

It’s about how I touch people’s lives. 

And that means it’s never, ever “business as usual.”

How does it feel when someone doesn’t like your work? 

How do you react when you get a disagreeable response on Facebook, or someone dismantles your latest blog post in their comments?

It’s not much fun.

But it’s even less fun when your business doesn’t have an engaged audience and you end up with barely enough to pay the bills each month.

It’s simple:  without an interested, engaged audience, your marketing is twice as hard for a quarter the result.

On the other hand, when you have an engaged audience – an audience interested in what you have to say, an audience that interacts with you wherever you show up – your marketing can become almost effortless. 

“Wherever you show up” is literally wherever you show up, whether that’s online or face-to-face.  And “engaged” means they ask questions, comment on your Facebook and blog posts, talk to you at networking meetings, want to know what you’re up to, ask your opinion, and value your advice.

Here’s where many people get stuck.

The only way to have an engaged audience that wants to know your opinions and values your advice and buys your stuff is if you’re willing for there to be people who disagree with your opinions, consider your advice bogus, and will never buy anything from you.

Simply put, when you’re real enough for people to love you, you’re real enough for other people to dislike you.  (And yes, they may even hate you.)

This is okay.  In fact, it’s more than okay:  it’s a very good thing.  Because you cannot have one without the other.

In order to be noticed and valued by those who will be your best clients, you must also be noticed by those who will think you and your work are irrelevant and even wrong.

Are you ready to be disliked?

If so, you’re ready to show up and be successful.

Business and marketing coaches typically tell you to get very clear on your ideal client.  They’ll ask you to describe this person so completely that you know his shoe size and her favourite brand of chocolate.

This is neither necessary nor useful.

Don’t get me wrong.  You absolutely must know your clients well enough to know how to craft your message so they’ll hear and respond.  And you need to know where to find them – do you go to business networking events, or do you hang out at the local Buddhist temple?  Or … both?

My ideal clients span a wide range of people.  Many of those marketing teachers and coaches would say this means I haven’t defined my niche tightly enough. 

I disagree.  A lot.

But rather than going on about what they say and how I disagree, let me tell you a small story.

A colleague recently decided that he was ready to get serious about starting his business.  He came to me for suggestions and advice.

You won’t be surprised to hear that I spent time on the subject of unique value.  “Unique value is something you already have – it’s part of who you are, and it’s a quality you transmit automatically,”  I explained to him. 

“This quality is something your best clients will want just as much as they want the results you get for them.  And the ones that want this unique value of yours are the ones you’re going to do your best work for and have the most fun with.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the phone line. 

You see, we’d been talking earlier about defining his ideal client, and he’d been less than enthusiastic at taking on the task.  But when I said, “They’re the ones you’ll do your best work for and have the most fun with,” the pieces clicked for him.

“Oh!” he said.  “Ideal client – it’s not a list of everyone who might need my work.  It’s about defining who I want to work with.  It’s not from their perspective, it’s from my perspective.”

Yes, indeed.

Who do you have the most fun with?  Who do you most want to help?  Who lights you up, bringing out the best in you?

Who makes you feel 100% yourself, unafraid to bring everything you have and everything you are into the working relationship?

That’s your ideal client, defined from your perspective.

When you know who you like to work with, you’ll have much more energy and enthusiasm for understanding what they want and need to hear from you in order to say YES to working with you.

And you’ll find it far easier to connect with these people than with any intellectually-constructed avatar or persona representing a niched-down demographic.  (Sorry.  Couldn’t resist just a little jargon!)

What’s with this belief people seem to have that they’re strange, weird, or freakish?  

What’s with the pictures posted on Facebook showing one lone fish swimming in the opposite direction from all the rest?  What’s with the claims about “flying the freak flag” and “owning our weirdness”?

Enough, already.

I understand the impulse to be a proud misfit.  I understand the desire to take painful labels like “freak” and “weirdo” and re-define them so we can feel better about them, and therefore feel better about ourselves.

It’s natural to want to just be who we are, especially for those of us running businesses that seem to demand authenticity and realness.  

Yet it’s also natural to be afraid of showing up that fully – that nakedly – because of things that have happened to us in the past.  So as we take steps to put ourselves out there, our real selves, we feel vulnerable … and then we use the words “freak” and “misfit” and “weird” as defense mechanisms.  In effect, we’re saying, “I’ll call myself these names first.  Then no one can hurt me by using those words against me.”

Understandable, for sure.  Yet although we may have pre-empted others’ ability to wield those words against us, is the pain any less?  I don’t think so.  I think it’s worse because it’s self-inflicted.  I think it’s worse because ultimately it means we’re still feeling like we need to make excuses and disclaimers about who we truly are.

What if we could just be uniquely and wonderfully ourselves, without disclaimers or excuses?  Yes, it’s often scary.  Yes, it sometimes feels unbearably vulnerable.  But the people I know who are full-out, unapologetically themselves are the people I most want to hang out with, work with, and learn from.  And it’s how I want to show up for myself and for my clients.

We’re not freaks.  We’re not weird.  We’re simply who we are. 

And that’s so amazingly enough.

I recently watched the TED talk by musician Amanda Palmer called “The Art of Asking.” 

Yes, it’s about asking.  But more than that, it’s about trusting.   Because, as Palmer points out, trusting comes before asking.

It seems to me that traditional marketing teaches us not to trust our audience.  Instead, traditional marketing teaches us that our audience has to be convinced or – worse – manipulated into buying from us.  It teaches us to rely on formulaic approaches, blueprinted structures for writing sales pages, and ways to grab (or steal) attention without necessarily earning it.  Instead of trust, there’s a lot of scarcity and fear.

So I started to wonder:  what if we were to present our work from a place of trust?

Trust that our work is good, powerful, and effective.

Trust that we provide a unique value that our customers and clients are seeking and even yearning for.

Trust that it’s enough to show up as who we are, without needing hype and fancy marketing techniques.

Trust that our audience is looking for us, wanting the help that we – and only we – can give them.

Trust that they will value that help for what it’s worth, and that they’re ready to pay for that value.

Trust that if we’re open, honest, and vulnerable enough to simply ask from the heart of who we are and what we offer, they’ll respond.  (Need I add that I’m not talking about a “you gotta have a call to action” sort of ask?)

Trust that if we engage with our audience honestly and authentically, they will respond.

I think many small business owners and independent practitioners are moving in this direction out of distaste for the majority of traditional marketing practices and a desire to be authentic and comfortable in their own integrity.

I also think, however, that by consciously choosing trust, consciously expecting to be caught when we take that leap, we have the potential to show up in a much bigger, much more impactful way.

To me, this feels really big, really good, and a whole lot more fun than the old ways of doing things.

What say you?

(And by the way – that TED talk is powerful.  Even if you don’t like Palmer’s music (I’ll admit it’s not my style), you’ll appreciate what she has to say and the way she says it.)

There are a lot of business classes – trainings, webinars, virtual programs, whatever you want to call them – on the market that are all about formulas and blueprints.

And it seems to me that there are a lot of people taking those classes who end up feeling disappointed, cheated, and frustrated.

I’m a lifelong student of many things – writing, knitting, history, cooking, gardening, and, of course, business – I could go on, but I’ll spare you the full list.

I learned one thing very early on in my studies:  the teachers and classes I enjoy most and find the most useful are those that teach principles, theories, practices, techniques.

The ones that teach blueprints, recipes, or patterns are eminently forgettable.  They’re one-offs, with little if any lasting value or practical usefulness.

I’m thinking of teachers whose classes made a real difference in how I do things, how I think about everything from my work to my life.  The curmudgeonly Professor Toomey, my ancient history professor in college who taught me to think and then to put that thought process into a coherent argument.  The inimitable and irrepressable Lily Chin, knitter extraordinaire, who taught me principles of draping, pattern construction, and many other things that continue to influence how I approach knitting.  The warm, wacky, wise, and profane Fabeku Fatunmise, who is singlehandedly doing more than anyone else I can think of to change how many people, not just me, think about everything from marketing to money. 

Again, I could go on, but you get the idea.

These questions of technique instead of blueprint are crucially important.  Those blueprints and formulas are rules and one-off projects.  They seldom translate into ongoing practices that we can incorporate into our businesses, into the ways we do things day in and day out.  And they don’t adapt easily to different philosophies, personalities, or perspectives.

You’re not going to do business the way I do business.  We all deserve to be taught sustainable business practices, techniques we can adapt to be successful in our own unique, individual ways.  We deserve to be taught how to think about our businesses, not just rote methods of writing sales pages or launching programs. 

We deserve to be encouraged to consider how we want to feel whilst we do our work, so that we can incorporate the techniques, ideas, and practices that we learn into our own ways of doing things; ways that produce real results, stretching our capacity, developing our skills, and in alignment with who we are and how we want to show up.

As a teacher, I recognize that it’s a lot easier to teach people a blueprint than a technique with multiple potential variations.  There are many fewer moving parts in a blueprint, and there’s much less chance of having to answer difficult questions. 

And I don’t mean to imply that every teacher of a formula or a blueprint is doing something intentionally wrong, or that they’re deliberately setting out to make life difficult or shameful for people.  In most cases, I’m sure they want the best for their students.  Some of those classes are probably useful for some of the attendees, especially those who are wise and experienced enough to extract what’s useful to them and skip the rest.  Sadly, though, it’s terribly easy to convey a message that if the student doesn’t get the results they “should” have gotten, it’s because they didn’t follow the blueprint correctly. 

I want techniques.  I want to learn why as well as what and how.  I want ideas, tools, and practices that I can adapt to my own ways of doing things, my own ways of thinking and feeling about my work, and then incorporate into what I teach to my clients.

It seems to me that there aren’t many teachers out there taking that approach.  I think that’s sad and unfortunate.

What’s your experience?

I’ve been playing with re-defining the opposites of words, primarily words that describe particularly difficult or challenging experiences.  When I find alternatives that feel more real and true, things shift.  Possibilities open, space unfolds, and something inside relaxes into greater peace and certainty.

The reason for this is subtle, having to do with the ways language shapes our thoughts and feelings.  Words impact our experience more than I think we generally realize.  But it’s simple, really:  what we think of as the opposites of tough experiences such as fear or scarcity are typically defined by words that carry a lot of heavy expectations about how we should feel, how we should think – how we should be.

But all those expectations about how we’re supposed to be if, for example, we’re “courageous” instead of “fearful” tend to make us more tense and contracted, not less.

We think we know that the opposite of fear is courage.

Courage is often assumed to mean without fear.  So if we’re not fearless, we worry about cowardice and we feel ashamed and inadequate.  And we might stay stuck believing that we have to get rid of the fear before we can take any sort of action to – for instance – achieve a goal that we yearn for, but that frankly scares us half to death.

What if the opposite of fear is love?

Love doesn’t mean we never feel fear.  Love gives us a place to stand as we face our fear and keep moving anyway.

Love tells us that we aren’t cowards, even if we turn away from something we fear.

Love warms us with compassion and, yes, offers us the courage we need to keep going, without ever making us feel ashamed of who we are.

We think we know that the opposite of scarcity is abundance.

Abundance is another loaded word.  It can feel greedy to want abundance.  It can seem unimaginable and unobtainable.  For some, it feels both greedy and unobtainable.  When we want abundance but we imagine this means we’re greedy, we add guilt and shame into the mix; when we want abundance but we imagine we can’t have it, we add frustration and resentment into the mix.

What if the opposite of scarcity is enough?

Truly enough, deep-down soul-satisfyingly enough. 

Enough that we can both give and receive love, gratitude, and appreciation.

Enough to take pleasure in paying for the value we receive – our mortgage, taxes, and electric bill as well as that magical massage therapist, wise teacher, and brilliant craftsperson.  

Enough to give ourselves and others the experiences and things that are authentically meaningful to us. 

Enough to know our own innate wholeness and worthiness. 

We think we know that the opposite of consumption is frugality.

But frugality feels a lot like scarcity.  I can’t think of a way to be frugal without feeling like I’m pinching pennies till they squeal, which certainly isn’t a feeling of enough.  Yet we’re all aware that environmentally, economically, and for our personal wellbeing, consumption isn’t sustainable or satisfying.

What if the opposite of consumption is generosity?

Generosity of heart and spirit, generosity of laughter and love and companionship, generosity to ourselves as well as to all the people in our lives.

Generosity that leads to open-hearted appreciation of others, including financial recognition of the talents and skills they offer.

Words to live with; words to live by

In writing this, I notice how much overlap there is between the experiences evoked by these new opposites. 

Love.  Enough.  Generosity.

It seems to me that these are words I can live with and experiences I want in my life.  Perhaps it’s because they seem less hard-edged, less absolute, than courage, abundance, and frugality.

They certainly seem more compassionate and more attainable.

What do you think?