On Being Seen

On Being Seen

by | Apr 3, 2013 | Blog, Featured

On Being Seen

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
—”Anthem” by Leonard Cohen


You know when someone takes a picture of you when you’re not looking? Then you see it and you don’t recognize your grim face or your giant upper arms?

Or maybe you catch a glimpse of yourself in a restaurant mirror while you’re eating… Or ruining your mascara at your oldest friend’s wedding.

I’ve been thinking about this lately as it relates to how we position ourselves in our business.

We are so accustomed to positioning ourselves that we don’t recognize the “candid” shot. Or worse, we just automatically hate it or reject it because it shows those cracks. But the candid shot really is how people see you… sometimes. It’s how you look and how you are.  They still love you in spite of it. And quite often, it’s just downright beautiful.

What I’ve come to learn after talking with dozens of entrepreneurs and business owners about their story is that they believe that expressing who they really are in business (showing those cracks) is a weakness. That if they reveal who they really are, they will lose their potential client’s respect or their own credibility in the marketplace.

I think the opposite is true. I think when you show that crack, whether it’s sharing an aspect of your “mess” that you’ve always hidden—how you flunked out of two colleges or went bankrupt at age 40 or realized after 10 years that you weren’t cut out to be a lawyer—or just being bold enough to take a stand on something you really believe in, you actually make a deeper connection with your ideal client.

Look at that woman in the photo above… Would you feel more drawn to her if she was smiling in the standard group wedding portrait rather than here, wiping away her tears? I think she’s luminous.

I believe the light gets in and the clients can find you even more easily when you let the crack show. So forget your perfect offering and just show up.

If you’re interested in telling your story, cracks and all, please check out the  Golden Thread Session.

Getting Real

Getting Real

by | Apr 1, 2013 | Blog, Featured

Getting Real

My blog, until today, has been like the shoemaker’s child.

So, I’ve got to admit something horrifying. Horrifying to me, at least. I write blogs for other people–and don’t write my own. OK, there it is. In order to stop this trend, I’ve signed up for the Ultimate Blog Challenge and am going to (Am. Going. To.) write a blog a day each day in April.

Tonight, I’m also getting ready for my interview tomorrow with Darla LeDoux for her Truth Summit--and the two events are definitely connected. On the telesummit, she’s talking with 20 entrepreneurs about how powerful it is to design your business model around what you actually believe. For me, telling the truth is all about having enough–being enough–not waiting for there to be more–of whatever–before I start sharing.

I learned a new word today, “atelophobia,” from the Greek for “imperfection” and “fear.” It is, according to Wikipedia, an anxiety disorder that “makes the person afflicted feel like everything they do is wrong.” From what I see in my clients (and myself) this is what keeps us from blogging or from putting our true message out there in the world. Not being enough, not having anything worthwhile to say, and feeling like anything we do say is just going to be wrong anyway. God, I’m a damn atelophobe.

My business is all about helping entrepreneurs get clear on what they have to say–and finding powerful, meaningful, authentic ways to say it. It’s all about the truth.

So here goes. With the Ultimate Blog Challenge, I feel a new day dawning. 🙂

Hello, world. Hello, shoes. Goodbye, atelophobia.

The Siren Call of “Everything”

by | Oct 21, 2012 | Blog, Featured

The Siren Call of “Everything”

We’ve had a cool 18-year-old kid staying with us on and off this year. He and I share my desk and many mornings I find scattered stickies with his girlfriend’s name penned in his elegant script.

The other day, I found this list, titled “I do everything!”

[Spelling is not one of the things he does, so here’s a quick translation: ukelele, guitar, magic, cook, art, calligraphy, agriculture, Ultimate Fight Club, science, poetry, romantic.]

All of it’s true… so that’s not my point. He’s got a lot to offer—and, as he’ll tell you, a whooooole lot to offer the ladies. Like it says, he’s romantic.

My point is that this desire to be everything is natural when you’re 18. But when you’re in business, your clients aren’t like a teenage girlfriend (or maybe they are, but this will still hold true for them, I promise.)

Your clients wants to work with someone who gets them, who understands them quickly, who makes them a specific offer. An offer that’s clear, definite, and confident.

If you are like my young friend (as so many of us are), you’re good at many things. And that’s great. I like to do it all, too, and I know it’s not easy to pick just one.

But if you want a website that hums and gets you clients, you’ve got to get specific.

When I work with someone on website copy, the first thing we do is narrow down “everyone” to their most ideal clients. And, believe me, almost all my clients initially say, “Oh, seriously, I DO work with everyone.”

But, think about it, if you’re a 40-year-old woman who’s never worked out and is desperate to get fit, but uncomfortable going to a gym, who would you rather work with?

Fitness Trainer A who works with “everyone”

Fitness Trainer B who works at home with women, 35-45, who are sick and tired of feeling out of shape and intimidated at stepping into a health club.

Being everything to everyone is good for your ego.

Being very specific about what you offer the person who really needs you is good for your business.

 

Put Your Hands Together, For You

by | Apr 17, 2012 | Featured

Put Your Hands Together, For You

This past winter, I was heading back east for a visit. As everyone was buckling seatbelts and settling in for a long winter’s flight from Dallas to Boston, the pilot came on. But he didn’t mumble through the usual announcements of flying time and altitude. Instead he gave a welcome—to the 11 members of a Massachusetts infantry regiment who were just boarding the plane. On their way back from Afghanistan, they’d be home in time for the holidays.

At that, the whole planeload of weary, knees-in-their-chest air travelers transformed from their dull, quiet misery into a rowdy group, thunderously clapping and hooting.

It made me cry.

Because God only knows what kind of frightening, traumatic events these guys had seen and survived.

Because, no matter what you think about our war, they deserve to be acknowledged like this everywhere they go for the rest of their lives.

And because we live in such an anonymous world, it’s unbelievably tender when we just, simply, notice each other.

I got thinking of people I know who could use a little noticing.

The neighbor whose house has been for sale for nearly four years while he’s working hard in another state to pay two mortgages.

My old friend who did not get the news she had prayed for at her last oncology appointment.

And everyone who has received an unexpected diagnosis, an unpayable bill, unbearable news or no news at all.

I imagined the pilot welcoming them:

“Ladies and gentleman, today we have on board Bill, who currently works for less than half the salary he made last year just so his family can have health insurance. Let’s give him a hand.”

“Please extend a special welcome to Jane. Ten minutes ago, Jane’s 16 year-old-daughter texted her to say she is pregnant.”

“And let’s send out a little love to Cindy in seat 21A. Today Cindy is on her way to her dad’s funeral.”

Yeah, I thought, each of us deserves a little spontaneous applause.

So today, stand up and take a bow. Yes, you.

The one who habitually over-commits to committees, bake sales, silent auctions and car washes.

Who always checks in when you haven’t heard from your best friend in a few days.

Who asks the chemo nurse how she’s doing.

Who enthusiastically listens to the five-year-old neighbor tell the same story for the 1000th time.

Who smiles at strangers and chats with cashiers even when you have a pounding headache.

Who always picks up McDonalds bags and Budweiser cans from the roadside and carries them home in your jacket when you’re out on a walk.

Who gives a dollar bill to the homeless woman when you don’t have quite enough for your own groceries.

The one who shows up and shows up and shows up.

Thank you for your sacrifice and your service.

Because without you, what would we be?