Money for nothing, special vampire edition

Do you think it’s wrong to get paid for doing nothing?

If you immediately said yes, you have a choice:

  1. You can quit reading this post now, and go back to your regularly scheduled life of trading time (or skills, or hard work, or yes, even knowledge) for money. Good luck with that. I hope you’re able to retire someday.
  2. Or you can keep reading and run the risk of changing your mind. It’s OK to argue with me (in your head or in the comments) if you want to have a reasonable adult-type discussion. It could even be fun.

Hi, people who stayed!

Lemme tell you a little secret. I myself would have answered this question with a “probably yes” until earlier this week when Johnny B. Truant once again blew my mind in this post about believing in the value you provide.

(You should totally go read that post. I mean it. Do it now. I’ll wait. Oh, and remember that Johnny swears. Beautifully.)

Are you back? ‘Kay. Johnny is right on when he talks about the value of knowledge and the right to charge appropriately for it.

And I’m going to go one step further and suggest that it’s even OK to make money for doing nothing.

Everyone who just thought of Dire Straits? Congratulations, you’re as old as I am.

(I could use some chicks for free, actually. I’m thinking of raising some chickens so we can have fresh healthy eggs from our own backyard. But then I’d need a chicken coop, because we have foxes and coyotes and bobcats here. Hmmm.)

Back to the “money for nothing” discussion.

My goodness, what kind of greedy immoral person thinks they should be able to just get handed free money?

For starters, everyone who’s ever invested in the stock market… and that includes you “I’m buying and holding mutual funds for my IRA portfolio” folks. But that’s not the main point of this particular rant.

I’m mainly talking about anyone who’s ever created any form of intellectual property, ever. Like stories, for instance. Or music. Or movies, or software. Or teleclasses. Or ebooks.

All of these pieces of “content” can be digitally duplicated with a marginal cost (additional cost for each copy) of exactly zero.

Of course it costs money to print a book, or burn and ship a disc. But that’s merely the container for the intellectual property, not the intellectual property itself. And in our online world, there are more and more “information products” that don’t have a tangible, physical existence at all, and that’s where I’m headed.

If you think that the price of a book (or an ebook) is a reflection of the work the author put into it, I’d suggest you reconsider. Because that would mean, among other things:

  • Nothing that resulted from hard work could ever be freely given away
  • Bestseller status would automatically mean those authors worked harder than other, non-bestselling authors
  • Once an author dies, you shouldn’t have to pay for their stuff anymore; it should be free
  • The higher the number of copies sold, the lower the price should be (reflecting a fixed amount of work that went into writing and production)

But we all know that someone can write and launch an ebook, and then essentially keep selling copies forever, while doing exactly zero additional work. Slap it up on a website and have an autoresponder deliver the link, and that’s it.

Why should this person keep receiving profits from doing no additional work?

Well, first, why not? That only seems wrong if you actually believe that the only way to earn money is hard work. See stock market reference, above. The people who cash the dividend checks are not doing the work.

Second, a more substantive guess at an answer: Because as a buyer, I’m not paying for the work the author did to write the book. I’m paying for the experience of reading it.

Yes, it’s true that I might “learn something.” That might even be the point of my experience. But it doesn’t have to be.

People are still paying for books of fiction (maybe not so much in e-format, but still). I recently paid good American money to purchase tangible copies of all four books in a certain vampire series, for instance.

(Okay, it was Twilight. I admit it. And although I have giant problems with some aspects of the books, I still enjoyed the experience I had reading them. I like SpaghettiOs, too. Happy now?)

Rooted in integrity

Do I resent Stephenie Meyer for making money from my purchase? Hell no. Neither do I resent the authors of the various info products I’ve bought.

In fact, I think info products seem like a pretty great way to make some money, while helping people and staying true to my small-business tree roots.

Soon, I’ll be launching some paid products. (I’ve already added two new services, WordPress Installations and AWeber Tune-Ups, but those are both old-school trading-skills-for-money gigs, so they don’t fit the “info product” definition I’m working with here.)

I’m now choosing to believe it’s OK to make money from the kind of product I can sell over and over again with very little (or even zero) additional effort. I know that I will in fact put hard work into creating them, and that they will in fact provide value… for My Right People. And all others? Need not apply.

And you can choose to believe the same thing about your work. Will you?

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Aligning your (technology) office space with your core values

I’d like to remind everyone that the beautiful and brilliant Jen Hofmann of Inspired Home Office will be my special guest on tomorrow’s free teleclass.

Jen is an expert on office space and organizing, but what she does is much deeper than simply helping people color-code their files or suggesting a layout for their office furniture (though I can personally attest that her suggestions to me on both those topics have been enormously helpful in my working life!).

Working with Jen has given me a new appreciation for the effect that my workspace has on my work… and that translates into my whole life. My whole house. The space I carry with me each day.

Ever since I first came up with the Small-Business Tree, I’ve known that physical things like office furniture could be important roots (life-support systems, sustaining factors) for a home-based business. As I’ve worked with Jen to explore how my own brain works best, I’ve come to see that the alignment between physical space and core values is crucial.

Which leads to the question of the week:

What about my virtual office space?

We’ve all got email inboxes and files stored on our computers. Many of us are overwhelmed by the number and complexity of the messages and files we are “supposed to” read and keep track of each day. And there are tons of guides out there for “taming” “managing” and “conquering” your email and your file organization.

I don’t have a one-size-fits-all seven-steps-to-a-clean-desktop system to sell you. Even if I did, it would only work for those of you whose brains work pretty much like mine does — the rest of you would be bitterly disappointed.

That’s the genius of working with Jen. She’s got principles that apply to everyone, but the specific methods each one of us will use to align ourselves with our workspace and organizational system will be different, because each one of us is unique.

And isn’t it interesting how different you feel when you say things like “align” and “bring into harmony” and “depend on” instead of “tame,” “conquer,” or “zap”? It’s not just language, not just semantics. Our choice of words matters.

That’s why I think it’s genius that Jen’s new offering is called Jen and Charlie’s Work Party (yes, she’s pairing up with another of my most favorite people ever, Charlie Gilkey — it’s going to be beyond awesome)! It’s a party! It’s fun! And the name A Course in Compassion for Clutter is brilliant — you know right away whether it feels right for you.

Learning to look at your email inbox a new way, or realizing that you don’t have to organize your file folders the way you were taught or the way everyone else does it, is enormously freeing. Finding a way that works for you is a deep and true affirmation of your core values.

And that’s what tomorrow’s call is all about. I can’t promise a quick-fix solution to your overflowing inbox, or an easy way to find those missing files. I know we’ll be talking about technology and organization, about email and files and websites, and I’m certain that Jen will bring a new perspective, true compassion, and her full and generous heart to the conversation.

Oh, and did I mention that Jen has one of the most beautiful, soothing voices on the planet? It will be worth it to dial in just to hear her talk, I swear.

Plus we’re guaranteed to laugh and have fun. I’m honored to call Jen a friend, and I can’t wait to join her tomorrow!

Join us, won’t you?

I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m going to be ME while I do it

One of these things is not like the others...good for that one!

Ah, it’s Friday again, which means it’s Small-Business Tree day here on the blog. And Ijust held a free call where I talked about the Tree for an hour, which was great fun. I’m even doing a two-week workshop starting next week where I’ll get to help My Right People nurture their own trees.

Also in tree news, I’m working on a prototype for a new Small-Business Tree program that will lead some more of My Right People through daily exercises to help them map the tree metaphor onto their unique businesses (if this appeals to you, you may want to subscribe to this blog, because you’ll hear about it here as soon as it’s ready for prime time).

So, all this biggification is fun and exciting.

And scary as hell, too.

I’ve had this voice in my head for the past couple of weeks telling me that I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. This is different from my usual voices that tell me that I’m incompetent (my old familiar friend), or that I’m doomed to fail (come on, who doesn’t think that once in awhile?), or that I will be living in a van down by the river soon (thanks to Pam Slim for reminding me of that SNL sketch in a way that’s actually useful and funny!).

This voice is specifically about direction, about “What’s next?”

Even though I’ve got plans and ideas and projects, none of them seem to be quite organized enough or good enough to go live with (note the operative word here is “seem”). If I let myself, I can get easily swamped in doubts about the commercial viability or contribution-to-the-world factor or a dozen other variables.

So here’s the big risk for today: Trusting that my plans and ideas and projects are good enough for now, and proceeding with the most important thing I can do to build any kind of commercial success or contribution to the world, which is just being myself. The real, tree-hugging, swim-goggle-wearing, less-than-perfect, sometimes-angry, sometimes-scared, but also sometimes-funny, often-compassionate, frequently-craving-doughnuts me.

This might involve tweeting about what I ate for breakfast, or what I’m reading. It might also mean sometimes taking a few days away from Twitter because that’s what The Real Me needs to do. It might mean giving myself much more time and pampering than I think I need to launch a new product… but for a different product, it might mean going ahead with less than 24 hours’ notice to the world, because screw timetables, I’m having fun, dammit.

It might mean publishing this post without figuring out what I’m doing wrong that is making the words smush up against my pumpkin picture up there. Gah.

Being The Real Me means that sometimes, I may spend several hours working on a web project that’s never going to be commercially viable, just because it’s challenging or fun. And sometimes I might screw up and watch a website blow up in my face (O hear me, Internet gods of irony: If you are planning on doing this to me when I update this site to WordPress 2.7, which is long overdue because of precisely this fear, could you make sure it happens just when I get mentioned somewhere that will make me famous overnight? Thanks.).

One thing I know for sure: Being The Real Me means consciously accessing my roots whenever I’m deciding what to do next. I have enough experience at this by now that I know that if I don’t (or worse, if I do and then ignore the clear message I’m getting from myself), I’m being less than The Real Me. I’m not giving The Real Me a chance.

And you know? The Real Me deserves a chance. So does The Real You. Come be real! Leave a comment or @reply me on Twitter and let’s have a Real Conversation!

Taking a bite out of the Deadly Carrot of Fear

Let’s say you’ve mapped out your Small-Business Tree. And you’ve even done some digging to discover the roots of your business, those things that sustain and feed and anchor you.

Which is great!

Except that you keep getting slightly disturbing information about one of your roots. You ask yourself questions like “Why did I go into business for myself?” and you immediately get the answer “Because I have to!

Hmm, you think. That can’t be right. That doesn’t feel good. It feels kind of … icky and frightening. Let me just skip over that and try to get to some real roots.

And you do. You find some things that really feed your business and help you feel good. But lurking there, still underground, is that scary sentence: I have to. I’ve got to. I must.

OK. Let’s just sit for a moment and breathe, because (I swear I am not making this up) I literally just got attacked by chest pains because I’m thinking about this scary root. I’m sitting here typing a blog post and suddenly I can’t breathe.

After about 30 seconds it passes and I test my lungs with a few deep breaths. And sigh with relief. And recognition. Because I’ve been here before. Yes, I’ve apparently just liveblogged a panic attack.

Because who am I kidding here? When I was talking about you, and your root of “I have to,” I was really talking about me. My root. My fear.

Me: Why, hello there, fear. It’s not exactly pleasant to see you again.

My fear: That’s right! So maybe you’ll stay away from all this excavating roots silliness now! Yaaaargh!

Me: Um. Actually, I’d like to ask you what you’re doing.

My fear: You idiot. I’m protecting you. So just shut up and no one will get hurt.

Me. Okay. See, the thing is, you almost gave me a heart attack just there. You know, with the chest pains? So I’ve kinda got to ask you, do you think we could work out a way for you to protect me that won’t end up killing me?

My fear: …?!?

Me: I know. That’s not what you wanted.

My fear: No! I just want you to be safe!

Me: Safe from what?

My fear: Safe from …OR ELSE!

OK. Another deep breath. Because I see exactly what my fear is talking about here. It’s the hidden end of that “I must” sentence. It goes like this: “I’m in business because I have to be. Or else…”

  • I’ll get evicted.
  • I’ll go bankrupt.
  • I’ll have to get a horrible soul-sucking job that I will never be able to escape.
  • I won’t be able to provide for my children.
  • I’ll end up living in a van down by the river (yep, spoken in the voice of Chris Farley’s Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker)
  • I’ll die alone, penniless, and ten pounds overweight (thank you, Al Franken playing Stuart Smalley)

Yeah. Pretty crappy stuff, there. With all that hanging over my head, you bet fear can be a powerful motivating force. Lots of people stay in those horrible soul-sucking jobs because they’re afraid of losing them. (I did, for years, until I got laid off. Another story for another post.)

And if I listened to the fear, I would probably end up feeling like that was my only root. Or the only root that mattered, anyway.

My fear: Forget support, forget help and encouragement…the only thing that matters is that if you don’t make some money by the end of this month you’ll DIE!

Me: *whimper*

My fear: So hurry up and get marketing! Who cares if it’s sleazy!

Me: B-but…that’s not me.

My fear: No one cares whether it’s you or not! Grow some damn branches right now! Sucker some fools into giving us some bucks!

Me: But if all I have is one root and a few branches, that’s not a tree at all. That’s not what I want to be.

My fear: What are you talking about? We need the money!

Me: Yes, we do. But I want to help people, not squeeze money out of them. I want to be a strong small-business tree, with roots and a trunk and healthy branches. You’re talking about a carrot. Just a big fat root and no trunk and a few leaves. You’re the Deadly Carrot of Fear!

My fear: Am not! Am not! Lalalalala I can’t hear you!

Me: OK, it’s OK, I want to give you a new job.

My fear: …??

Me: I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. The Deadly Carrot of Fear is ridiculous, I know. And you can’t stand feeling ridiculous.

My fear: No kidding.

Me: You don’t have to be scary or ridiculous. You could be a nourishing carrot.

My fear: Do I have to wear some kind of stupid costume? Because I’m sick of that. You know, big, bad, old me, fear, wearing the camouflage of reasonableness or practicality or prudence or safety.

Me: I know. I remember. I don’t want you to wear a disguise. I want you to be strong, juicy fear in all your glory.

My fear: Huh?

Me: Because you, my fear, are an affirmation of my growth. You show me where my path is and what I need to be careful of. And then I can work with you. We’ll be a team.

My fear: You mean… I’m good for something? Just me? Just being who I really am?

Me: Yes. Yes. Being your true, scary self. Showing up when I need you.

My fear: I’m not going to lose this job? You’re not going to laugh at me?

Me: Well, sometimes I’ll laugh, when I see what a good job you’re doing.

My fear: I’ll be the best Deadly Carrot of Fear ever!

Me: Thank you. I love you.

Whew. What a journey. I think I need to go eat some Wheaties for a strong heart.