get your biz off the ground Archives - Page 5 of 11 - ⚡️Kristen Kalp

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figure out what you want, get your biz off the ground

How to stress less when your bank account is skinnier than Kate Middleton

You’re broke. Or you feel broke, even though technically there’s money in your bank account.

You’re getting paid $1.17 after taxes or child support payments or expenses.
You owe thousands upon thousands of dollars in credit card debt.
Your clients aren’t booking like they usually do.
You’re freaking out.
You can’t quite breathe.

Feeling powerless and overwhelmed by mounds of debt sucks big hairy balls. So first, before we talk strategies or how-to’s or ideas that might help you out, take back your power.

You can turn this around if you refuse to be overwhelmed by it.

You run a business, and you’ve got income streams at your disposal.

You’ve also got a brain, some good ideas, and three minutes to do this exercise with me. Ready?

How can you make $1,000 in the next week?

Not $7,000 or $12,000 or $47,000…one thousand dollars.

You’ve made a thousand dollars before. And you can do it again.

What’s one way you can make that happen?

(Feel that panic loosening?)

Now, take it one step further.

What are 5 different ways you can make $1,000?

Maybe they’re not all feasible, and maybe they can’t all happen tomorrow, but it’s worth noting. You have lots of ways to make money at your disposal.

The act of loosening your grip on panic and embracing other alternatives does wonders for your psyche.

Oh, you’ll have a sale on those and then move up that project.
You’ll put off spending there and make that happen instead.
You’ll discount those items to move inventory, then tease your peeps with new stuff that’s even more amazing.
You’ll make twice as many products this month.
You’ll open a few more spots.
You’ll work with someone else to co-promote an event.
You’ll offer an amazing incentive to get your peeps to take action now.

You won’t panic.
You won’t pander.
You won’t throw your hands up in despair.

You have the ability to earn the money you need, but you’ve got to remain calm enough to see it.

Keep going: what are 10 ways you can earn $1,000? This might require pulling in a new project, expanding in a direction you’ve been longing to go for a while, or actually making those people pay you for work you’re already doing. But it’s within your power.

In order to make ________________
in the next few __________________,
I’ll ____________________
and _______________________________
and offer _________________ to my peeps for ___ days.

If that doesn’t work, I’ll come back to the drawing board.

No stress. No freakage-outage.

You’ve got this.

P.S.  Please, don’t lead with price.

get your biz off the ground, rebel!

Sharing a Shamrock Shake with Bill Murray

The other night, I dreamed that my Dad and I were in Punxsutawney to hear John Candy’s stand-up routine when Bill Murray showed up and asked for a sip of my shamrock shake. (Obviously.)

When we makers and business owners doubt our creativity or think we’ve got nothing new to say, isn’t it neat that our brains can conjure this shit up?

John Candy is dead, shamrock shakes are out of season, my Dad and I aren’t planning a roadtrip, and Bill Murray…yah yah yah yah yah, my brain gestures impatiently. JUST WATCH.

The creative act — whether you’re making dinner or a new product or a different service or a movie or painting or a day that feels better than yesterday — comes with plenty of roadblocks that make logical sense.

You’re tired.
You’re out of cash.
You’ve got no supplies.
You’re not as good as ______________.

But that doesn’t stop Bill Murray from showing up and sharing your shamrock shake. You’ve only got to get out of your own way and watch the dream, already in progress…

A great indicator of your dreams’ zaniness and general Bill Murray factor, as well as your ability to make stuff, is indicated by your input.  Your willingness to take time out to read books, listen to podcasts, go fishing, look at art, take walks, and/or otherwise do enjoyable activities that you deem life-giving and fulfilling.

Listen to the input versus output podcast episode to get caught up, and maybe Bill will show up in your dreams, too.

P.S.  How to find a way in to your creative process.

get your biz off the ground, sell more of your work

How I write books in 6 weeks or less. (i.e. fuck the plan)

I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn that I don’t write books like most people. Other writers tell me they maintain a fairly slow and steady pace, chipping away a thousand words at a time for months upon months. Years, even. They are perfectly capable of submitting detailed outlines to editors and of making a legit Table of Contents they’ll stick to as their book unfolds.

Not me. Here’s a behind-the-scenes look at the way I write, in all its glory. (Hint: there’s not really any glory. But there is a rainbow keyboard.)

First, I go hunting. I gather up all the scraps and bits and snippets I’ve written on my phone, on my laptop, and in my notebooks. Podcast pieces, class transcripts, and poems. Inspiring words I’ve written as responses to particularly moving e-mails.

All of it. Everything I’ve written since the last time I released a book. I let myself be overwhelmed by the immensity of it. That is, in some part, the point.

Then I edit. I cull. Ruthlessly and harshly, with a loving eye toward only the pieces that want to be a part of this particular project.

I weave my work like other people weave yarn, turning words into chapters, and chapters into the book.

It’s not logical or linear. (Currently, my Table of Contents is not in any way related to what I’ve written. It will be by the end, I promise.)

It’s entirely intuitive, and it’s not a bit like any class or system I’ve ever taken told me to do. I have a great deal of guilt, for example, about having edited 6,000 words the other day but ‘not doing enough’ because I didn’t also handle social media and the laundry and the grocery shopping. Yesterday, I did the social media and the grocery shopping, then felt guilty about having edited too quickly. Translation: my brain is still an asshole.

I weave quickly. My latest book went from 15,000 words to 30,000 in under a week.

It’s at 41,000 words and growing, as of this writing, and will keep on ticking upward as I add new pieces to fill gaps, make clearer points, and otherwise needle away at my own deadline.

Because I make my own deadline.

There’s no outer force pushing me to write — only my inner knowing that it’s time. This is the season to get it out, much like a pregnant woman knows when it’s time to push, only without forceps, and with way more alcohol.

I’ve made space for this to happen: no coaching calls, no Hermione D. Granger to walk and bathe and feed, no outstanding deadlines or commitments outside of my own.

I’m writing for me, for you, because the act of writing itself is one of the most joyful ones I know.

I still don’t know how it will turn out. I don’t know how much it will cost. I don’t know whether you’ll love it or hate it.

…and still I write.

Because it’s in me, it’s the thing that lives in my bones and that desperately wants to be out, away, and in the world.

I’m honoring my voice even as I don’t know what the fuck it’s doing or why the fuck it’s doing it.

So if you’ve ever felt like your process is TOO something — too slow, too fast, too linear, too logical, too uncertain, too messy, too vibrant, too fast-paced — there’s only one question to answer.

Are you doing the work? If you are, the process is perfect.

My process is a hybrid of labor pains and making space, like if a doula and a yoga teacher got together and had a happy hippie book baby, but they invited whales to come splash around on the beach so we would all know we’re on the right track.

Your process is just that…yours.

Fuck the plan, fuck the requirements and the endless planning, the labeling and trying to do it the “right” way.

YOUR way is the right way.

Relax, enjoy.

Here’s to your process, friend.

P.S.  Don’t drink the unicorn blood.  And put down that horcrux.

get your biz off the ground

I’m doing it! (Followed quickly by) I’m doing it wrong!

Turns out I’m doing this podcasting thing all wrong.

I started a podcast with only one episode. (Apparently I was supposed to have 3 to 8 to start.)

I’ve got no editorial calendar, because I talk about what my peeps are talking about, and I can’t know what they’ll be talking about in six to nine months. (PARTY FOUL. Big time.)

I’ve got short episodes with no editing, no intro or outro, no witty theme song, and no sponsors. (Only a voice and a mic? Holy fuck, SO WRONG.)

I don’t have the big fancy epic podcast hosting package that assures me I’ll be successful. I don’t pay $200-$300 an episode for a transcript because I write most of what I’m going to say out beforehand. (UGH NO TRANSCRIPT! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, HOW COULD YOU!?)

I don’t care about whether I’m featured in the New & Noteworthy section of iTunes. (Shit, I probably put myself in the wrong category, because there is no ‘Swears a lot, gives a shit, and helps you get in touch with the truest parts of yourself’ category anyway.)

I’M DOING IT ALL WRONG.

Every part of it, and there’s this Facebook group teeming with other people’s anxiety because they want to do it right.

1782 people committed to doing it right, with endless questions and concerns and ‘I want to start but I don’t know how and how did YOU start and I think I’ll start in a few weeks or months’ type questions.

One thousand, seven-hundred and eight-two people.

I quit that group today.

I dare you to quit the Facebook groups that make your stomach hurt, your palms sweat, or your heart race because they stress you out.

I dare you to do it all wrong.

To start. Even if you don’t know where it’s going.

Even if your gear is wrong.

Even if haven’t got a soundproof booth and a solid gold microphone that cost more than your car.

Start.

Even if you’re sure you’re not ready, or you’re sure you’re never going to be a hit on any sort of Apple platform.

Start now.

Just…start.

It’s okay to do it wrong. I’ll be cheering you on, too loudly and wearing mismatched jewelry, shouting, “I’m so proud of you,” but you won’t be able to hear me because my mic has got it all wrong, too. (I once laundered a mic by accident. ::shakes head at self::)

I dare you to ignore the well-meaning advice of strangers and just fucking dive all the way in, without infoproducts or the help of Facebook groups or the endless streams of articles you can read before you begin.

Make your stuff.

Do your work.

Start.

And if you haven’t yet, please subscribe to That’s What She Said in iTunes and listen for yourself. It’s all wrong, but lovely nonetheless.

Peeps in 46 countries are listening in, and your e-mails are moving my heart and my work in ways I couldn’t possibly have imagined. (Read: I cry when I think about how grateful I am to have your ear.)

P.S.  I also write books the wrong way.  (Six weeks, no book deal, pizza delivery all the way…)

get your biz off the ground, make meaning

Tiny Rituals and the Fine Art of Motivation

There’s an art to keeping yourself motivated over the long haul. It isn’t as simple as following five steps in a row, or making a Motivation Map or vision board or whatever the shizbuckets is popular these days. Motivation is complicated, and it’s most difficult to manage when you’re already sleep-deprived, broke, stressed, or all three. But tiny rituals help.

Tiny rituals are just that…tiny. Daily. Rituals.

They’re habits that keep you not only motivated, but fully alive and present. They’re not a big deal, they don’t require your participation in any 30-day challenges, and they take no offense if you skip a day or 17.

Tiny rituals aren’t little judgey assholes scrunching up their noses while discussing how much you suck. They’re immensely helpful little beings of light.

Tiny ritual #1: guard your beginnings and endings.

Whether you’re choosing to work for nine minutes or nine hours a day, guarding your time with a formal ending and formal beginning keeps you more focused. Instead of keeping your laptop open in the background while trying to do 22 other activities for six hours in a row, try lighting a candle and setting a timer for thirty minutes. Go hard, go fast, and see if you need another thirty minutes when the timer is up. You’ll get shit-tons of your work done in one-third the time it takes when you’re floating like a lost balloon in Distractedville.

Personally, I light a candle, then say a prayer that goes something like, “Help me to do my best and most sacred work today.” I pull a tarot card for my client(s) and get to it. When my work is done, I blow the candle out.

Easy beginning, easy ending. Energetic division…done. With one breath, my kitchen table is once again ready for hosting meals instead of laptops.

Tiny ritual #2: take breaks.

(Not dance breaks, unless you fucking love dance breaks.)

Truth is, dancing isn’t my favorite. Even by myself, I get sort of awkward and shy and weird about all that movement. But I can stretch like a mofo. I can breathe deeply, I can stretch my legs with a walk. You don’t have to dance in order to prove to your imaginary friends how imaginary cool you are. Do something else that switches your brain off when it’s tired of being on, or on when it’s tired of being off.

Oh, and…it’s okay to rest when you’re tired. Napping is as legit a break as busting out the Michael Jackson Remix.

Tiny ritual #3: bring on staff.

Pretend that you’re really fancy and you can spend $100,000 a year to hire a team of advisors.

Best-selling authors. Brilliant marketers. Poets. Artists. Entrepreneurs. Nobel Prize winners. The best minds of our time.

Imagine they’re all available to do your bidding and give advice whenever you see fit. Now, open your Podcasts app and choose up to five of these brilliant people to listen to each week.

Let your fellow humans teach you stuff, show you stuff, entertain you, and otherwise give you brain food. For free. (Bam! Just saved you a hundred grand.)

Of course, I’d be happy to be on your staff. Subscribe to That’s What She Said right here and you’ll get a new episode every Tuesday.

Tiny ritual #4: sip from other cups.

Whether you’re obsessed with Pinterest or Instagram; whether you’re reading another non-fiction series or you’re dying for the new book by your favorite author to come out, it’s your job to sip from other cups. To take in all the world has to offer and to remix it in your life the way only you can.

Actively seek inspiration, motivation, and input, or your well will inevitably run dry. (Input versus output is totally handled in episode #5.)

Tiny ritual #5: make stuff you don’t sell.

That’s right, stuff you don’t sell. Stuff you’re not trying to strategize or market or turn into your next paying gig. Stuff without hashtags or ‘follow me’ reminders. Just..stuff. Maybe that means you shoot film with your family, or you take a painting class, or you mess around with 30×40 inch canvases and waste inordinate amounts of supplies making new creations. (Yes, those are my feet in the photo up there.)

Maybe you build Play-Doh towers, the likes of which the world has never seen, or write poems like you used to, before you decided your voice wasn’t worth listening to or wasn’t that interesting. There’s power in making for the sake of making, and it fills your well like little else in the world.

Tiny ritual #6: do the crazy-ass thing every now and again.

“I made this ridiculous decision to go to Iceland with my friends for 13 days in August,” she said, “and then I figured out a way to pay for it.” Now THAT’S a coaching client I adore.

Whether it’s Iceland calling, or you want a new chandelier for your bedroom, or a few days off for staycation in your hammock, let the reason you started this business take over every now and again.

Freedom. Security. Getting out into the world. Stability. Adventure. Mayhem.

Whatever your reason for being in business, let it out to breathe every now and again.

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P.S.  I’m proud of you.