The big secret is that there is no secret, just a lot of hard work
Starting a business has been one of the most terrifying, exhausting, wonderful, and rewarding things I have ever done, even compared to the joy and terror of parenthood.
My impetus to start my own business was not a long-considered, intricately planned affair. I did not see the light — felt the heat.
I was recently divorced and had crashed out of a job in a big ad agency, a position to which I was very poorly suited. It was the first time I had ever failed at a job in my life.
I was more or less broke, speeding rapidly towards 40, and feeling burned out. But despite all the risks of going it alone, I could not face the prospect of another corporate job. The wonderful person who later became my wife gently nudged me towards entrepreneurship and has supported me emotionally ever since.
A key insight for me was that the things I found easy and natural — things I did quickly and without huge effort — were things that many other people found difficult, tedious, and time-consuming. I believe everyone has their own knacks and natural affinities.
Granted, not all natural talents are money-spinners (balancing beer bottles on your nose is not marketable, alas), but many are. In my case I have always found understanding and explaining digital technology both fun and easy. I have a natural aptitude for seeing how systems fit together, and how to make them work better.
It turns out that this aptitude is extremely valuable to people who rely on digital technology, but do not have the time or inclination to understand how it really works.
I am, in many respects, a digital plumber or a digital mechanic. Sure, you can fix your own toilet or change your own clutch, but do you really want to? What happens if you get it wrong? Some things are best left to experts. To my surprise, it turns out that I am one.
A major reason my business is still running is that I forced myself to recognise the value of the “easy” stuff, and to charge appropriately for that skilled work.
It’s worth bearing in mind that I’m also uncommonly lucky. I have a loving and supportive family with enough resources to keep me from destitution if I were to fail. When I started I had no dependents. I have never been in danger of starving.
But even with a safety net, a hugely supportive spouse, and plenty of demand for my skills, starting a business can still be a lonely and anxious affair. As an employee of an established business, you don’t have to think about cash-flow, or worry that your biggest client sounded grumpy on this morning’s call.
Everything has to come from you. All the ideas, all the energy, all the attention to detail. Solo projects can feel like marathons through the desert, an achievement that you pay for in sweat and mental energy.
Even today, having just hired my first employee in January (she is fantastic), I still wake up some mornings feeling daunted and ungrateful. Being your own boss is wonderful, until you have to give yourself a pay cut because you behaved like a sloth for six entire weeks.
The Internet is crammed with experts and influencers who want to sell you the alleged secrets to becoming financially independent through self-employment. One of those “secrets” is to offer to sell just such secrets to other people.
What few of them tell you is that some days the hardest thing is to just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and to believe that things will work out, one way or another.
There is nothing inherently admirable about working for yourself. It’s not some heroic expression of the authentic self. Many people who thrive in larger businesses would loathe self-employment. That isn’t some lesser choice. Your work is as valid and meaningful as you make it.
Some people start their business with a partner, and many swear by that approach. But even if you have someone beside you, in the end you still have to do the mileage. If you’re anything like me, there’s a little voice telling you “you’re too tired, you won’t make it.”
That little voice is a liar. You will make it. The only thing to accept is that “it” might be something or somewhere different than you originally planned. Keep going.
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