Okay!

Since finishing the Contract Of The Damned I’ve been chewing on how to transform what I know into a useful/helpful business that’s both profitable and sustainable. This is not a new chew.

It’s been on my mind for years and years, so I figured a few days of undivided attention would unfurl a predestined path paved with gold, where I’d traipse among treasurable moments of delight and meet stellar people who would accept my humble gifts (and me) with open arms and gracious ease.

Or something.

Whatever. There was no unfurling.

Instead, my brain was an unbearable knot of clamor. An assembly of stagnant ideas, stale fears, and old expectations were squawking squawking squawking all day, every day. Man! Weren’t they pissed at having been set aside? You wouldn’t believe the bitching.

My head was such a mess that I was driven to do what I absolutely hate to do: start with (shudder!) a blank sheet of paper.

I’m at my best with a box to think outside of—or even inside of—so this was drama. Letting go of anything is hard for me. Letting go of everything? Terrifying.

It took two weeks of reading and cleaning and napping and working and eating comfort food to do it, but I did it. My head got clear and the silence was a massive relief…

…and along the way I found directions for building a shweet new box. Huzzah!

Our Magna Cartas

If you’ve read @ChrisBaty‘s No Plot? No Problem!, then you already know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, here’s the scoop—

In the context of NaNoWriMo, Magna Cartas are your documented preferences for what does and doesn’t make a good novel. Magna Carta 1 lists your loves, while Magna Carta 2 is a list of not-so-much. The aim is to compile your likes and dislikes into guidelines for a novel that you  a) would want to read, and b) are going to write. The Magna Cartas are your literary lines in the sand.

Note the “documented” part. The exercise requires you commit these to paper.

Note the “your preferences” part. They’re your lists. They’re not for what other people think you should/shouldn’t write or even for what you think you should/shouldn’t write. They’re for what you like and what you don’t like. Period.

And because every one of us is a skin bag packed with preferences, this is a simple exercise.

Simple Enough

It’s a simple enough exercise to apply to any ol’ thing you want to create…like a career, a piece of art, or a lifestyle. Or your Life, even. Or your work. Or your life’s work. Or work that allows you to have a life.

You saw that one coming, yeh? :)

My Magna Carta for Delightful Work is adorable. It’s a sunny list for my business-to-be. It has what I love, what I enjoy, and what I miss most about work that I loved and enjoyed.  It’s brimming with happy hopes. It’s longer than I expected and it has a few surprises.

And I’m not going to share it with you. It’ll bore you to tears. Seriously.

Much more interesting is the list of things I don’t want my business (or me) to be. These are things I dread doing (or becoming) that have subconsciously held me back for longer than I’m gonna admit.

The irksome part is: every single item on the list has a true story. With a name. And a face. And—I will totally admit this—sometimes the name is Crystal and the face is mine. Bleugh!

The list boils down to one thing: I don’t want to be (or continue to be) “That Guy”.

I Don’t Wanna Be “That Guy” Who…

… runs out of things to say on his hugely profitable blog after 163 posts, but rather than branch out or cap it off he regurgitates hopelessly week after week and prays no one notices. They do.

… doesn’t strategize his writing, so his blog is aimless even though the individual posts are cool.

… doesn’t post for 2 months (or more) and leaves his readers hanging.

… has a completely different personality offline. And not in a good way.

… takes time to craft a picture-perfect sales letter, but everything after the Buy Now button is a half-ass affair that’s barely held together with baling wire and spit.

… chooses a business model for the money it can bring instead of how it suits his background, skillset, personality, lifestyle, and character.

… doesn’t accept his true—not apparent or assumed, but his real—boundaries.

… automates customer-engaged tasks that should be hands-on.

… keeps his hands on repetitive, mindless tasks that should be automated.

… starts a membership program without considering he’ll need to create fresh content forever, and the topics get painfully weak as he loses enthusiasm.

… waits until his business is falling down around him (and his customers’ businesses with it) before hiring support.

… pushes affiliate products he hasn’t read, tried, or examined. Or paid for.

… doesn’t tell his readers he uses affiliate links (which he does). Or cloaks his affiliate links like they’re something naughty (which they’re not). As if his readers won’t resent it when they figure it out (which they will).

… adopts trickery.

… overprotects his information products such that honest customers are punished while rogues steal the stuff anyway.

… relies on a zillion subscribers, famous friends, heaps of money, and other ethereals for his identity and self-worth.

… downloads and buys every success-promising product available, but doesn’t bother to read them.

… doesn’t do thorough research, so his shit is just wrong.

… interacts with a Get goal instead of a Give goal.

… believes his own hype.

… overestimates his value.

… underestimates his potential.

… isn’t prepared for success when it comes.

·

Whew.

Have you met That Guy you don’t want to be? Have you become Him?

Maybe you can take some time today to write down what you absolutely don’t want for your business, your work, your marriage, your family, and your life.

Draw the line.

P.S. And don’t cross it. Ever.