Entrepreneurial Sin #1: Assume the world will end when you stop working

I have a lot to say about the Entrepreneurial life, I realize. Including what NOT to do. I'm particularly expert at that. This is part I of a series on Entrepreneurial sins. As with all of my series, I make no claims regarding how many installments this one will have. Enjoy the ride, however long it lasts...

I've always found that the most introspective periods of my life have occurred when I've had time for them. Back in 2002, when the start-up I worked at went under, and I had nearly a year of "consulting" and thumb twiddling, I read stacks of self-help books, wrote a book, meditated and went on long walks that ended with me grokking something new about myself.

Intermittently in early 2005, when I quit my job to take on meaningful work (without knowing what that was), and before BlogHer, I had days that were fully open to me for nothing else but writing and jotting down inspirations.

But lately I've been in a distressed state. I've never been busier than I am now, and yet I'm equally introspective, and the two are duking it out for supremacy in a death match that's begun to eak its way into my consciousness. The first signs were small meltdowns, pissiness, and then moments of downright despair over the course of my life. I had a few months when I could blame it on planning a wedding, but now I don't have any excuses. Friends would ask, how's business? And the answer is always the same, "Fine." And it's true. But ask me, "How are YOU," and the answer is "Confused."

I think back to my Web 1.0. days. I worked 15 hours a day, on average, and on weekends. I sometimes ate three meals inside a dusty loft building that was being renovated, just me and the techies, who were nocturnal. I went to launch parties for startups that meant nothing to me or my company; I went to immerse myself in a culture I was part of, but hadn't really absorbed. I always went home disappointed. But I did all of this because I thought I had to.

Today there seems to be a new proliferation of events, conferences, thingies to go to--to become smarter on the rare occasion, to connect with new business opportunities, or just to re-enforce your belonging in what's become a new media clique of sorts. Sometimes you only see cross-sections of this clique--the business modlers, the techy purists, the vloggers, the traditional media types who are keeping it real and pushing their boundaries, the blogebrities--the self-initiated members would balk at my attempt to define it. At times when I'm at events with people who are not as involved with the perpetuation of social media, I realize that the world does not revolve around my industry; I am, in fact, a small being in a huge ocean of change, and I have to doggie paddle my way through conversation: "What's a blog? It's like a Web site, sure, but there are important differences...How am I making money? Well ... "

And I realize that the scant few folks in this nebulous clique stand out like buoys--I try to float over to them from time to time to rest before swimming back out again. I feel a sense of belonging and mutual understanding with these folks, even if we will never, ever partner in a business sense. Even if they are just coming for the free sushi.

The fact is, my business life is way different now. The word "career" has shifted for me. I no longer work for a promotion but for personal satisfaction. I've gained a new respect for the journey, not just the end result, which means my personal sieve for bullshit is far more refined--far fewer meaningless pursuits get through. Fewer queries and phone calls, fewer emails, and yet, all this is at a time when I'm receiving more inputs than ever before. I get more important email, requests, and opportunities than I can fully appreciate.

I've said to H-band on several occasions, "I love what I do, but sometimes I wish this was happening earlier in my career." What I mean by that is I wish this was happening when I was a human sponge, not a sieve, and I could soak it all in and not give a piece of sashimi about how my efforts would affect my physical energy threshold, my marriage, and my vision for the future. Five years ago none of these things were established. I was incapable of knowing my limits or desires--I was what you might call the perfect worker.

Recently I bumped into a buoy from the past, Andy Lark. Andy was one of the first people I got to know after leaving my job and taking on my entrepreneurial life. I didn't know what I was going to do yet, which made our chats rather lively. Andy was particularly inspiring because he managed to do so much--build companies, consult, write books--while having time for a life. Seeing him in the crowd was like being saved from drowning. We had dinner and caught up.

"How old is your little girl now, six months?" I asked.

"Eighteen months."

Geeze, I had been in such a tunnel for so long that I was off by a year. I wondered, if I keep up like I am, will she be in college by our next catch-up?

We talked about many things--media, startups, where things are going, but the part that I remember most was about how our personal lives were shifting. I remember thinking it would be difficult for Andy to adjust his "always on" lifestyle with a new child on the way. But being a Dad had become his crowning achievement.

"How's your book?" Andy said.

I'd forgotten that I had one that was being shopped. I lived for this project a year and a half ago. Sometimes, lately, I forget that I love to write.

"The agent's pitching a business book, but I'm not sure I'm a business writer. I write about business, sure, but it doesn't seem like a perfect fit."

"The hell are you talking about?" Andy said, "You don't write about business. You write about life."

I thought about that. I like what Andy said. But lately, my life HAS been business.

"How do you do it?" I asked Andy. "How do you set limits?"

What Andy said made sense. At the end of the day, he played with his daughter, put her to bed, and sometimes worked, but unlike his previous habit of working into the evening, he often stopped after that.

"First-time entrepreneurs often have an exaggerated sense of responsibility," he said. "They think that if they take a break it will all fall down around them. But they need to understand that if they don't take breaks they won't have the energy to focus when they need to."

His words felt like a salve, or more to the point, like permission.

entrepreneurism time management Andy Lark Web 2.0 meaningful work career

Comments

[Jon Moter]

You said:

"What I mean by that is I wish this was happening when I was a human sponge, not a sieve, and I could soak it all in and not give a piece of sashimi about how my efforts would affect my physical energy threshold, my marriage, and my vision for the future. Five years ago none of these things were established. I was incapable of knowing my limits or desires--I was what you might call the perfect worker."

When I read that, I had the following thought: what you have now developed is the ability to be discerning, to choose what demands your attention and what does not. I'm guessing that's an important part of being an entrepreneur.

In other words, you'd think it would be nice to have infinite energy, but having a finite supply actually makes you better suited to what you're doing.

I have no idea if that's correct or not, since I'm not an entrepreneur myself. That just popped into my head when reading, so there ya go.

[Jennifer Warwick]

Jory -

Thanks so much for this. I almost hyperventilated the other day when I passed a prize-drawing fishbowl asking passersby to drop in a business card...and I realized: I Didn't. Have. One.

Just ONE WEEK into my so-called retirement at 42 (I think it will end up being a sabbatical), I'm doggie-paddling a bit myself. Still forcing myself to relax and not grab onto any small assignment floating by (Friend needs someone to edit a chapter? I'll do it! Tiny restaurant in town needs a waitress? I'll do it!) just to feel like a worthy contributor to society. For now, all I can admit to myself that I'm doing is "taking December off." Easier that way. Less true? Time will tell.

I've worked so hard for so long that I could use a "buoy from the past" myself. Once I've taken off my business suit, stowed my carry-on and dangerous gels in the closet, or (gulp) turned off my computer, my sense of self turns into static: not gone, certainly, but not making much sense, either.

Thanks for letting me know it's part of the process, and the process is part of who we are.

[whimspiration]

Thank you, I really neede that.

[Christien]

Jory,

This really hit for me especially the part about wishing you'd realized things about 5 years earlier. That's something I have been thinking about...how much longer do I still have left in this sponge phase?