Have you changed your narrative lately?

Posted on October 21, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

As I wander through cities, one of the things I look for is evidence of fresh construction. Cities are living, breathing, pulsating organisms, and a great indicator of change is the number of cranes you can see dotting the skyline. In San Francisco, new construction emerges when the lack of residential units becomes absurd; in my new neighborhood in Brooklyn, new housing developments are popping up on vacant lots every few months.

Everything is always changing, even if we aren’t looking for it.

You have trillions of cells in your body, one of my yoga teachers reminds me. And your cells live, grow, and die and replace themselves every seven years. Every seven years we become an entirely new collection of cells. And in our personal and professional lives, metamorphoses happen even quicker. Your narrative changes every two, three, four years. You were a college student—then you weren’t. You were responsible for only yourself—and then you became a parent.

Every seven years our physical bodies completely regenerate. How often do we renew our stories of self?

Your narrative is always changing.

It’s easy to cling to a story, even if it doesn’t serve us anymore. It’s harder to shed the layers of past selves and emerge into a new narrative. The transition can be awkward, abrupt, or bumpy.

As things move and shift, you’re learning, iterating, growing, changing. You’re new to twitter and then, months later … you’re not. No one is listening to your blog, and then, some time later, people are listening. You’re embedded in the flush of a new job, thrilled to be working on your project, and then, a few years later, you’re tired. Ready for the next project, story, or idea.

Don’t cling too hard to your old narratives. Instead, build new ones. Grow into future ones.

When you’re a new employee, the biggest thing you don’t know yet is that you’re only in the entry level category for a short time before new faces come along and you’ve got to hand your bag of tricks over to the new staff. That management you’re secretly griping about? That’s you, really soon. Trying your best to do better, and learning the reasons why it’s so tough to implement your ideals. At the end of my twenties, just a brush away from my thirties, I realized with somewhat of a start that I graduated from college 9 years ago –

What? NINE years ago?

People were asking me questions that I had answers to — and many that I didn’t. I knew a lot, and yet there was so much more I wanted to learn.

You are, until you aren’t.

You aren’t, and then you are.

In my work with storytellers, educators, corporate leaders, and innovators, one of the things we do is unearth their current narratives — and watch people rebuild. Michael Margolis reminds me that “as you tell your story, your story moves.” When we take pen to paper, when we sit with friends, when we convene and collect and talk about what we’re doing — our story changes.

The act of expressing your story helps set your past narratives free. The act of imagining your future narrative helps you grow and transition into your next iteration of who you are.

We grow through story, and we grow into our story. Your narrative is changing.

What stories can you retire?

Who are you becoming next?

Writing exercise: get out a sheet of paper and write down as many stories and scripts that you carry around with you. Your age, what you believe in, how you explain who you are and what you do. Are there any that can be changed? Anything new emerging? Write down stories of your next, wiser, growing self. Who are you becoming?

PS: For everyone who’s interested in working on their writing and storytelling, I’ve got a surprise coming out in the next few weeks — if you’re on my mailing list, I’ll send you a note when my big surprise goes live!

When You Fall Down, Break Your Routine, or Stop: Notes on Re-Starting

Posted on August 15, 2014March 27, 2017 by Sarah K Peck

The rhythm breaks. The routine falters.

You write, so diligently, and then a week slips by.

Getting back into the structure of things — writing — is even more challenging when traveling, moving, changing.

I can make a million excuses; writing and making time for writing is and always seems so hard.

It’s easier when I’m already making. When I’m on the train that’s already moving, it can be easier to keep going. And then I slip. My eyes wander up and left, I slip outside for a drink, I stop in the sunshine, I caress the thought of taking a break, and—

—Days go by. The procrastination wears down, like water through a crevice, building its rut and smoothing the sides into familiar curves with its constant trickle.

The weight of the days adds up, as though each day has its own weight, compounding over time.

Dread hangs over until the shadow of not doing spooks me in the morning, haunts me inside of the bags underneath my eyes. The sheer weight of not doing makes me so tired and that fear and dread build up, and I even start to doubt; I believe that I’m too tired; that tomorrow will be an easier, better day, that writing will somehow become more magical and effortless if I just wait.

The truth is, the one that I learn only by doing, is sometimes one sentence and one foot in front of the other, a shuffle-step, a trip, even — Sometimes sentences are written underfoot, scribbling out while running — the truth really is, that if I only just start, if I sigh and press open that sheet, tricking myself into making something so tiny I can’t help but just inch it out; when I make a small piece and massage it a bit, play out a word, dedicate a paragraph to the morning and a few more notes to the day;

The truth is, the hardest part is starting.

The gaping mountainous space that is not having started, with the weight of all the days piled up on top of each other like the exploding laundry piles of a pair of triplets, that space—that space is the one that can be popped like a balloon, a whistle of air sadly escaping out as a small sigh, only, only, only if you dare to jump, to pop the weight of the invisible balloon, to recognize that starting is always as hard as it’s ever been, and the hardest thing you do, will be to start.

Starting my pages is like an exercise in watching my crazy brain dart and monkey around — all the things I must do! Lists and busy-work become important, tasks and to-do’s building up alongside corners of pages, papers stacked several sheets high across the expansive desk space that is, for all purposes, meant for writing. I must make a new batch of tea! And i’ll try a green juice! Perhaps the internet will have the answers! I will Facebook like everything in sight because ALL OF THESE LIKE HAVE MEANING! I am connecting! I am powerful! I am!

And the answer is, after three hours of puttering, anxiety building in my stomach like a lining of acid swelling across my belly, I get so mad and frustrated that I shout, I MUST go for a run, I will RUN, then, then, you will SEE.

And a small piece of my mind thinks to me, you can’t afford to run, so, well, just write a couple of sentences before you go, and then of course, you will go for a run, and of course, that will help.

And then I sit at the desk, legs twisted to the left, shoes half-on, one sock on the floor, and finally open the document — my intent to start writing as soon as I get back, and then the document that is still blank bursts open on my screen, white terribleness blasting me with my procrastination; I stare at the pages that are empty, and with one hand on my shoe, I scribble and scratch out the thesis and the questions I’m going to be answering when I get back. I’m not writing, see, I’m running.

Lists and notes come out, and then my foot rotates and slides under my chair, and I’m jumbling in it, sports bra and keyboard, pouring, pouring, — well, I’ll just talk about this one thing, I start to say, but that story in the paragraph builds into a third, or a fourth, and I look up and the clock has spun around a few times far too quickly, and the sun’s down already, and I’m still in my underwear from taking off my pants to go for a run, but in between pants off and shorts on, I sat down to type, and the typing exploded, a story wielding it’s way on the page, long words and excessive ramblings wrapping around neatly in the shiny way that digital files do, and I’m hungry.

I’m hungry.

The sun’s down again. It’s dark.

On the days when I have to begin again, on the days when it’s been far too many days in between, and I haven’t written in too long, I know that the most important thing is just the dump of words.

The writing will not be good — it rarely is on the first time, and especially not on the first day back, but the second or third day after greasing the word wheel with an onslaught of words, it gets smoother and easier in a way that’s unexpected.

It’s like the first day is a rinse of my brain with a writer’s neti-pot, the morning pages and the first thousand words a clearing of the clutter, a draining and sweeping of the cobwebs in my brain. Snot-clearing pages, I describe them to my writing classes. Just get the snot out, blow your nose, suspend judgment and don’t look inside too closely at those boogers!

It’s like the pile of words that drains out is mucus that stuck up my brain, and those morning pages are blowing my brain’s nose. The next day, when the morning pages have been written a second time, I can sit down and my mind is much more connected to the page, to the words at hand.

Starting is hard.

Come back in, however you can.

Pandering — and 9 other things great writers refuse to do.

Posted on May 7, 2014May 6, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words. — Mark Twain

I don’t often publish guest posts here on It Starts With, but occasionally I meet a fellow writer with a story and a message that matches our audience. Today, I’m delighted to share the work of Isaiah Hankel.

Isaiah is a speaker, author, and Ph.D. scientist who recently released the book Black Hole Focus. Long before getting his doctorate, Isaiah was a sheep farmer in rural Idaho who struggled in school and was diagnosed repeatedly with ADD and ADHD. He survived college and barely made it into graduate school—but in graduate school, he was put on academic probation and worked as a janitor while sleeping in a friend’s basement to make ends meet.

We talk a lot about what it takes to write well — and when Isaiah shared what he had written with me about remembering this list of things that great writers don’t do, I couldn’t wait to share it with you. Here’s the list—and Isaiah:

The first draft of anything is shit. — Ernest Hemingway

Pandering — and 9 other things great writers refuse to do.

By Isaiah Hankel.

After I wrote my graduate thesis I realized I was a horrible writer. It would have been nice to know this a little earlier. Like before I turned 30. Oh well.

The funny thing is that I thought I was a really good writer. I thought I was a smart writer. I used big words and academic transitions like “moreover,” and “furthermore.” I referenced the hell out of everything. It turns out all of this stuff is good for getting an article published in an academic journal that a handful of people will ever read—but not much else.

I started my first blog right around the time I started writing my thesis. You can tell because a lot of my first blog articles have the word “moreover” in it. Awful. My first few articles were short and talked about other people and other people’s ideas and basically just reworded blog articles that I read on the Internet that week. I’d see an interesting topic online and think “I agree with that!” and then start writing the same article.

I hadn’t found my own voice yet and was too afraid to tell any personal stories so I just regurgitated other people’s stories. I’d take someone else’s idea and then try to repackage it as my own. If you’ve done this too, don’t worry. Everyone does. Even Mozart’s earliest compositions contain lines from other composers like Johann Sebastian Bach.

Over time, I got better. It took a few years, and a lot of mistakes, but I eventually found my voice. And I found my audience. I started having my own ideas and using other people’s work to back it up (instead of the other way around). I refused to just regurgitate information anymore—and I learned a few other rules about writing.

10 things great writers refuse to do:

There are a few other things that I refuse to do now, too. Like sacrifice clarity for cleverness, or get gimmicky and preachy. Great writers refuse to do a lot of things. I’m not a great writer. I’m just average. I only refuse to do a few things. But great writers refuse to do A LOT of things. Here are 10 things that great writers refuse to do:

1. Pander to their audience.

People who sacrifice their identity to success will end up with neither.

As soon as writers start sacrificing their voice and their true nature in hopes of getting more book sales or article clicks or likes or fans or whatever, that’s the end. It’s the end of the writer’s unique self.

A lot of authors who have success early and then miss on their second offering have the urge to go backwards. Instead of creating something new, they try to repeat the past, causing them to lose their edge. Some try too hard to go back that they end up spiraling downward. They get desperate and pander or start begging their audience to like them again.

Great writers refuse to do this. They’d rather go through a slump than stop creating original material that speaks to them personally.

2. Sacrifice clarity for cleverness (or smartness).

“If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.” — Einstein.

Einstein nailed it with this quote. Too many writers are trying to be clever when they should be trying to be clear.

I love the line in the script for the movie Fight Club when Tyler Durden turns to the Narrator and says, “Oh I get it. It’s very clever. How’s that working out for you? Being clever?”

Cleverness is overrated. Clever titles don’t get clicked and they don’t sell very well either. Clear titles get clicked and sell. Great writers refuse to sacrifice clarity to cleverness.

What made Earnest Hemingway such a great writer?

Hemingway chose words that were common, concrete, specific, Anglo-Saxon, casual, and conversational. He rarely used adjectives and abstract nouns and always avoided complicated syntax.

You don’t need to try to sound smart. You don’t need to use a larger word when a smaller word will do. And all of those dumb little transition phrases that your high school and college teachers taught you—like “firstly” “secondly” “finally” “significantly” “interestingly” and, of course, “moreover”—delete those.

3. Sacrifice success to art.

Success sometimes means something worked well—build on that.

I know, I know, this seems to contradict #1. It does. But that’s because there needs to be a balance. You can’t sacrifice your art to success AND you can’t sacrifice success to art.

A lot of authors hold too onto the idea of originality too firmly. They refuse to stick with what works. This is admirable—but what good is your creative piece if no one ever reads it?

Play with your voice until you find something that other people respond to. And, when they respond, don’t be afraid to stick with what works. Tim Ferriss wrote The 4-Hour Workweek, then The 4-Hour Body, then The 4-Hour Chef. Gretchen Rubin wroteThe Happiness Project and then Happier At Home. J.K. Rowling wrote seven Harry Potter books. And then there are the 50 Shades of Grey, Hunger Games, and Twilight series.

Success means something worked well. You don’t need to shun success—it’s okay to use your voice and to build on what works.

4. Forget about the hero’s journey.

If you forget that we’re all heroes on similar paths, your story will fall flat.

Why do Adam Sandler movies suck now? It’s because he stopped following Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey.

Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore are classic stories because the main character, Sandler, is the unassuming protagonist who is thrust into a plotline that he wants no part of. He is an average Joe who hesitantly takes on a burden and starts a difficult journey. He gets knocked down over and over again but then, against all odds, comes out on top, gaining wisdom and power in the process. This is essentially the same story that is told in everything from Leo Tolstoy’s War & Peace and Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield, to Harry Potter and Katniss in the Hunger Games.

The problem is that Sandler’s recent movies just have him playing the same guy over and over again — someone who is kind of funny and has a few weird things happen to him. There’s no burden, there’s no hesitating (flawed) hero, there’s no real journey out through the other side of a transformation at all.

Great writers never lose the hero’s journey. No matter what you’re writing, fiction or nonfiction, your work can include a hero’s journey. If you’re writing fiction, remember to have your protagonist follow a hero’s journey. If you’re writing non-fiction, include personal stories that take the reader along your hero’s journey, or better yet—show them how you fit into their own hero’s journey. Use vulnerability and confidence in equal parts to be relatable and to create the effect of going on a journey where you come out better off than you were before.

5. Ignore their creative process.

Everyone has a creative process but not everyone’s process is creative. The only way to be truly creative is to turn the negative voices in your head off.

Off.

One of the biggest mistakes that mediocre writers make is keeping their internal editor always in the “on” position. This is a super fast way to kill your creativity.

One way to do this is by dividing your creative process into three phases: a creative phase, a realistic phase, and a critical phase. This is also known as the Disney Method, named after Walt Disney who designed it.

During the first step, you should write like no one will ever read what you’re writing ever. Just write like you’re a kid. Jump all over the page. Experiment. Go on tangents. Revel in complete creativity. For the second step, review what you wrote realistically – clean your creative work up so that it makes logical sense. And for the third step, get critical and cut out anything that doesn’t fit with the overall piece.

6. Always keep their favorite lines.

You have to be willing to delete large portions of your work in order to make it punchy, powerful, and clear.

After you’ve created massive amounts of work, next, become an editor. (But not at the same time). Equally important is the critical phase of the creative process.

Often, you’ll have to cut out your very favorite line in order to make the larger piece as good as it can be. You might even have to delete the line that sparked the entire article or book in the first place. Great writers are okay with this. They refuse to sacrifice the larger piece to smaller parts that they’re in love with.

Don’t let your ego get in the way of creating the best overall piece of work possible. You can always use your favorite lines in your next article or book.

7. Forget about feelings.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” — Maya Angelou.

I love this quote from Maya Angelou. It’s so true.

When I read The 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss, I feel free and mobile, like I can leave all my obligations and possessions behind and still be happy. When I read The 40 Laws of Power by Robert Greene, I feel bold and confident and eager to try my hand at taking over the world. When I read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin I feel happy, reflective, and grateful for what I have. Pride and Prejudice makes me feel romantic and hopeful, Anna Karenina makes me feel sad and nostalgic, and The Fountainhead makes me feel intelligent and industrious. I’ll never forget how these books make me feel.

Great writers never forget feelings. They craft their stories to impact not only their reader’s thoughts and actions, but their feelings too. A story sweeps us up into the feeling within the writers mind.

8. Or… only focus on feelings.

On the opposite end of this spectrum is the writer who treats his reader like emotional punching bags—dumping their problems and pains all over the page without adding anything productive.

There are literally thousands of blogs written by mediocre authors who are pumping out article after article of nonsense. They rant and rave and complain without offering anything constructive in return – no solutions, no good questions, no actionable takeaways.

Great writers refuse to be martyrs. They talk about their problems openly and are intensely vulnerable but they never whine. Their writing is of service—to a greater art, to an idea, to an audience—not a platform to stand and complain.

9. Get gimmicky and corny.

Great writers never use gimmicks. Instead, they build an authentic rapport with their readers. They stay real with their audience, not fake.

One of the first short stories I wrote was very gimmicky. For starters, I ended every chapter with a corny transition like, “Alex walked over to the bushes that were interwoven with the park’s metal fence and…”

Then, the next chapter started with, “… picked up a handful of white rocks.” Or whatever. It sucked. I wasn’t the first person to use a gimmick like this and, unfortunately, I won’t be the last.

Gimmicks are a turn off. Readers shut down when they think they’re being played. And they get annoyed by corniness.

10. Get preachy.

The only thing worse than being gimmicky is being preachy.

Yes, writers should have their own point of view. And you should take a stance on whatever topic you’re writing about, especially if it’s an opinion piece. But if you righteously put yourself on the moral high ground, this will make your readers hate you—no matter how nice you are in person, or how right you are about the subject.

Lead your audience from within, not from above. The imperfect teacher is a more effective teammate than dominator. This is a much more effective way to rally support for your ideas.

Great writers embed their philosophical ideals very deeply in their work. Whether it’s a nonfiction or fiction piece, these writers use stories, not sermons, to make their points. When it comes persuading your readers, a Trojan Horse is more effective than a battering ram.

What about you? What are some things that you try to avoid doing in your writing practice?

If you loved this, check out more of Isaiah’s work on his website, read the essay I swapped with him on swimming naked from Alcatraz, or pick up a copy of his just-published book, Black Hole Focus.

The Writer’s Workshop is now open for our summer session! Join us for the next class—and kickstart your writing into high gear.

Posted on May 5, 2014May 5, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

It’s baaaaack! The Writer’s Workshop will open up again this summer for a brand-new six-week session beginning June 30th.

The Writer’s Workshop is a live course focused on improving your storytelling, writing, and narrative abilities through eight masterful lectures and exercises — together with a community of co-writers to share the journey. We interview experts across the industry in marketing, communications, blogging, and book creation — and send YOU on a journey to dig into your own inner creative.

This time around, there are a few changes and additions:

Now that almost 100 people have taken the course, we’ve gotten excellent feedback, tips to make the program even stronger, and rave reviews from students. Here’s what you get—and what’s changing:

In the upcoming summer session, I’m adjusting the course to become a six-week program.

Also, the Writer’s Workshop will be available at three access points—to make it both more affordable for more people. There is a self-paced budget option for people who want to do the course on their own; a live class where we get to meet each other and join forces with all the alumni in the program (my favorite part!), and a private, closed Writer’s Circle for just a small group of people to receive more personalized attention and coaching.

Both the Writer’s Workshop and Content Strategy will run again this summer, beginning June 30—check out the course pages for full details and how to register.

Who is this course for?

This course is perfect for people with aspiring creative writing dreams; professionals looking at improving their communication skills for a day job; bloggers who want to improve their craft; or people with an existing writing practice who want to meet other like-minded people.

“Improving your writing means you can improve your relationships, improve your work, and get more of what you want.”

We are all writers.

The idea that writing is a separate tool or skill from other skills is a myth that needs to be debunked. We should all be excellent communicators—because the more powerfully we can convey our ideas, the more we can achieve.

Improving your writing means you can improve your relationships (through better inter-personal communication), improve your work (by getting better at describing what you do), and get what you want (by better articulating what you want).

“Sarah combines her experience in athletics, writing, and design to teach in a relatable way that inspires growth. This course not only evolves the way you think and create, but helps you hone your sales and persuasion skills. So, you come away with a fresh set of tools and the know-how to apply them to your business, career, or creative projects. Two words: do it.” — Matt Hunckler

“Her content is always thought-provoking and will force you to confront the challenge of executing your best ideas. She studies where great ideas come from and helps individuals and businesses do great work.” — Cycle 1 participant.

What will you need?

You’ll need an inquisitive mind and a curiosity about how to improve your writing ability. The course works best if you bring an open-mind and a gentle countenance—behind the doors we like to create a warm, respectful atmosphere for collaboration and creation. You’ll need about three hours per week for coursework, an hour to watch videos, and anywhere from three to five hours to work on your writing projects. In the past, students have set up time in the evenings and on the weekends to do the course—it’s best to plan ahead and carve out a few hours for your work to get the most out of the class.

Limited pre-enrollment closes May 25th:

Class begins on June 30th — and early-bird enrollment closes May 25th. Early bird registrations get a $100 discount off of either the registration for the live class or the self-guided class.

Can’t wait to see the new class!

Want to be a better storyteller? Two new online workshops, April 24th and 29th.

Posted on April 18, 2014April 18, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Humans are born storytellers. The way we tell and share our stories about who we are, what we do, and what we want affects who sees us, hears about us, and whether or not the right people connect with us.

If you want to learn how to describe yourself or your business (or both), join me at one of the following live storytelling workshops.

I’ve taught storytelling and narrative writing workshops live across the country—from the World Domination Summit to Bold Academy to General Assembly, and now I’m teaching two of these workshops as live online webinars that you can access from anywhere. Previously these workshops were only offered in person—if you’ve wanted to attend a class (or you’re curious about the upcoming writer’s workshops), join this one-day class.

Join me on Thursday, April 24 and Tuesday, April 29 for two 90-minute sessions on storytelling, narrative, and psychology.

“One of the best classes I’ve ever taken at General Assembly.” — Craig, General Assembly workshop participant

“Amazing class. I learned so much—left with pages packed full of notes.” — Joel, WDS workshop participant.

Storytelling 1.0: Crafting narratives for individuals and businesses. Thursday, April 24th, 1pm EST. $30.

WHAT YOU’LL LEARN: This introductory class will cover narrative form and storytelling tools that are practical and quickly implementable for many communication needs ranging from a personal biography to the description of your company. Understand the role of your audience; the psychology of your readership, and why asking certain questions will make storytelling much easier.

You’ll learn how to dissect the various mediums where messages are told, how to modify your story based on the place you’re telling it; how to identify your values and your audience’s values, and the power of lyrical descriptions in your story. We’ll also cover basic psychological principles of understanding and why this is important for how you craft your message.

HOW IT WORKS: This private online webinar will be hosted LIVE at 1PM EST. The webinar includes 90-minutes of lecture, visual, and presentation materials followed by 30-minutes of open question-and-answer sessions—ask anything you’d like and get feedback on your story + listen in to the questions of others!

Can’t make it live? The webinars will be recorded with a private link of the recording sent out to all participants.

PREPARATION: Bring pens, paper, and notebooks to write on. Bring a draft of your current biography and/or business description (you’ll be asked to re-write it during the webinar based on the key principles we cover).

Register here: Storytelling 1.0: Live Webinar, Thursday, April 24th 1—3pm EST. $30.

“Sarah goes over five different frameworks for how to tell stories — this was the first time the Hero’s Journey really made sense to me in a modern context.” —Anne S.

“I never thought about how important value systems were to storytelling—once she described it, it was a huge “Ah-ha” moment for me. Now I know which stories to tell when.” — Jeremy H.

“The simple idea that we all have many stories to tell took a lot of the pressure off—we don’t need to pick just one story. We can switch them out based on our audience and the medium.” — Leslie.

Storytelling 2.0: Leadership, sticky messages and the psychology of persuasion. Tuesday, April 29th 1pm EST. $30.

ABOUT THIS CLASS: This second session of the two-part storytelling series can be taken independently or in conjunction with Storytelling 1.0. In this class, we look at the stories that great leaders use to inspire; why (and how) to use emotion in your stories, and the persuasive benefits of a great story. This class includes a deeper dive into case studies of great stories (and not-so-great stories) to better grasp the concepts. In our time together, I’ll even show how Finding Nemo can teach us how to engage audiences from the beginning of your story with clever hooks and curiosity gaps.

Can’t make it live? The webinars will be recorded with a private link of the recording sent out to all participants.

Register here: Storytelling 2.0: Live Webinar, Tuesday, April 29 1—3pm EST. $30.

“It makes so much sense—leadership stories are different than other stories, because the objectives are different. Now I can see how people tell future-based stories and I realize how powerful they are.” — Sam

“This class takes a deep dive into your own personal Hero’s Journey narratives based on the work of Carol Pearson—I finally understood how I was living out my own Orphan narrative. This class was better than therapy.” —(Anonymous).

“Sarah is one of the warmest and kindest people I know. Work with her, she will be a change-maker and an incredibly valuable asset to your team or life.” — Jana Schuberth, Owner, Love Work Now

The Write Life’s bundle: massive sale for writers!

Posted on March 17, 2014March 17, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

The Writer's Bundle: Epic Resources

Writing is powerful stuff.

I teach several writing courses as a tool to gain insight into your inner wisdom, access your inner soul, and pen your own stories. If you’ve been itching to write, yesterday I shared several of my favorite resources in the March edition of my behind-the-scenes newsletter.

Today, I’m excited to share a few more awesome resources on writing, publishing, and marketing that you might love. If you want to know learn more about publishing, writing, building your own business, and marketing from some of my favorites—Seth Godin, Jenny Blake, Chris Guillebeau, Ali Luke, Alexis Grant and more—keep reading.

The Write Life Bundle—an epic steal at $79:

Want to know more about publishing, creating kindle books, marketing your book, developing your business, promoting your work, and engaging your audience? The Write Life packs a powerful punch in this bundle of nine different e-resources—a collection of books and courses that normally runs for more than $700 individually.

The bundle features:

Chris Guillebeau’s Unconventional Guide to Publishing (ebook and audio, retails for $129)
Jeff Goins’ How to Start Publishing for Kindle (ebook and audio, retails for $47)
Kristi Hines’ The Ultimate Blog Post Promotion Course (course, retails for $197)
Jenny Blake’s Build Your Business (course, retails for $75)
Tom Ewer’s Paid to Blog (course, retails for $29)
Sophie Lizard’s The Freelance Blogger’s Client Hunting Masterclass (course, retails for $98)
Alexis Grant’s Social Media for Writers (course, retails for $99)
Danny Iny’s Interview on Building an Engaged Community (audio + transcript, exclusive)
Ali Luke’s The Blogger’s Guide to Irresistible Ebooks, plus Publishing an Ebook Audio Seminar (ebook and audio, retails for $29 + $19.99)

The catch? It’s available for three days ONLY; the offer expires Wednesday, March 19 at midnight EST. That means if you’re interested, you’ve gotta act now!

Click here for more details and to get your hands on this bundle.

What is it about writing that’s so important?

People ask me why I teach a writing course.

To me, it’s so much more than writing. Writing is just the surface.

My deeper belief is that we’re all in need of connection to ourselves, as well as connection to each other. Writing, marketing, copy—it’s all just a way to tell stories and share them with our tribes. With the people that matter. When I look around, I see too much loneliness and disconnection. In plain English this means we’re kind of miserable, kind of bored, and kind of lonely—and we don’t know why.

Writing is one of the many tools we have to connect more deeply into our own inherent wisdom—and to tell stories that connect us to other people. Sometimes we forget how extraordinary writing is. It takes us out of our heads and lets us share a part of ourselves beyond our physical presence—we can share our ideas and our words in a space where other people can connect and learn about who we are.

Because of this, I’m sharing the writer’s bundle—for you to keep writing, of course!

Seth Godin’s Marketing Master Class—Another crazy steal at $10 for the class:

Want to learn more about mastering marketing with one of the all-time best marketers to date? Seth is offering another great skillshare class, available for $20 (or only $10 per student if you use my link). The course covers the following aspects of marketing:

11 questions about your role and your leverage;
An action theory of marketing;
The 14 “P” words that you need to know;
Specific marketing concepts and exercises;
Case studies in action.

$10 for a marketing class with Seth Godin?

Crazy. CRAZY SAUCE. Am I right?

Previewing next summer:

But what about your courses, Sarah? When are you teaching again?

Awww, thanks for asking!

Many of you know that today’s the day I wrap up teaching three different courses—our Writer’s Workshop, the Content Strategy course, and the Grace & Gratitude courses that I’ve taught this Winter quarter. It’s been a pleasure and a joy to journey together with more than 160 different faces through each of these workshops. After 3 months of back-to-back teaching, I’m editing and refining the program and will be brining out the next round of courses sometime later this Spring or early Summer (mark your calendars!).

Until then, go get your hands on one of these amazing programs, and — keep writing.

Are you letting the numbers deflate you?

Posted on February 28, 2014March 7, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

The thing about numbers is, we give them far too much power to make us feel bad. “Only” have 100 people reading your blog? That’s like speaking to a jam-packed coffee shop or on stage at a live speaking event.

Alexandra Franzen reframes the expectations we have around blogging (and online writing) and I think it’s so spot-on that I have to chime in. You are enough. Ten people is enough. Your audience of 45 people is fan-freaking-tastic. FORTY FIVE PEOPLE! That’s a lot of people listening. [tweetable hashtag=”#story #numbers #data @sarahkpeck”]Stop letting the numbers tell you a story of inadequacy.[/tweetable]

As Theodore Roosevelt said: [tweetable hashtag=”#quotes #inspiration #joy @sarahkpeck”]Comparison is the thief of joy.[/tweetable]

People often ask me how much traffic you need before you start a business or a project. We get discouraged with low traffic, thinking that somehow we’re not “good enough” if we don’t have thousands (or hundreds of thousands) of people listening in. The secret is that you don’t need 10,000 people reading you to make a sale to 30 people. (In fact, that’s a pretty low conversion rate). If you’re doing something that helps someone else, then one sale, one client, or a small classroom might be all you need.

We’re so eager to hyper-glorify the entrepreneurs who are billionaires and the writers who reach hundreds of thousands of readers that we gloss over the beautiful middle, the delicious space where you get to express yourself, connect with others, and share your work. There is nothing more beautiful than this. Delight in the expression and the sharing. Show your work. Love your audience, in all its shapes and sizes.

It’s about connection, creation, and expression—not traffic.

I made a business out of teaching 30 people at a time in workshops. I coach people one on one. I feel honored when one hundred people read an essay I wrote. I feel the same when one person reads what I’ve written. Start small. Walk into the room. Be proud.

And also, traffic isn’t all that it seems: there is an ironic downside to too much traffic. [tweetable hashtag=”#truth #business @sarahkpeck”]Too much traffic can be a downer for your growing business.[/tweetable] It costs money, and then you end up paying for people to listen to you. Some examples: when you hit 2,000 subscribers, you need to pay your mail client (if it’s MailChimp) $30 a month to keep sending your emails. When your traffic gets high enough, your web hosting might turn into $50-$100 a month. Those U-Stream videos cost $99-$999 for viewer hours, so 4,000 people watching can cost you thousands of bucks. SoundCloud lets you do 2 hours free—then you pay.

You get the picture. If you want a big audience, you might have to pay $200-$500 a month (or more) for it.

There’s something beautiful about medium-sized.

Just like Alexandra Franzen so beautifully re-frames: there’s something gorgeous about your own personal coffee shop. Cherish it.

Project hangovers, self-criticism, and the necessity of making messes.

Posted on February 11, 2014February 11, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

I have a confession.

Sometimes–more nearly like every time–after finishing a project, I hate it.

My writing class? Sucks, obviously. Last week’s essay? Good God, that could have been better. All those open and empty drafts waiting to be finished? Seriously, could have worked harder to get those done.

And on and on… My brain and the ego mind can be wicked.

When a project is done and in the world, I want nothing to do with it. I see it in all of the flaws, errors, imperfections. All the ideas that didn’t transpire the way I wanted them to show up; the folds that didn’t turn into corners and angles the way that I wanted, the misprinted line weights, the typos, the sentences. The project in its fascinating speculations and then, the seeming sigh of its final iteration. The scalding difference between my brain’s dreams, desires and wishes and the tested, iterated manifestation of creating that product with my hands and resources.

It seems impossible to see the final product without the embedded knowledge of all of the processes that it took to get there.

I wonder why on earth I did the project in the first place, and whether or not its worth anything. Surely, they’ll all hate it. The same is true on stage. I finish my talk, I finish the presentation, the idea, and I leave, not deflated, but with a fatigue from the project’s finale and the owner’s knowledge of everything that could have been or should have been, with the result left on the table. Everything left. Performance. Done.

Could have been better.

But I remind myself, each time:

Messiness and imperfection are part of the process of creation.

[tweetable hashtag=”#creation #manifestation @sarahkpeck”]Messiness and imperfection are part of the process of creation.[/tweetable] Manifestation and realization—bringing something to creation—requires endless amounts of decision making. There is a cruelty inherent in cutting out all of the ways you won’t move forward, in order to move from the infinite boundlessness of ideas to the limited arena of conception. An idea always seems smaller when it becomes a practical thing. Perfection is an ideal that lives in our minds, a lifting, an aspiration, a drive towards the higher creativity we all have within us. The act of creation, however, is messy, fragile, fraught, and filled with the mistakes of making.

The secret grace of making (and pushing publish):

The thing is, no one else knows what you know.

What’s fascinating is that for all the razor-edged criticism I can muster, the audience is presented only with the work at hand; they see the work for the first time, with new eyes, with their own perspective. Everyone has a different opinion. Many see flaws I never saw. Conversations are sparked and ideas fly.

Sometimes the reviews are quite good.

Because I, the owner, cannot comprehend what it means to experience the data, the idea, the print, the drawing, the presentation for the first time. (This is why giving presentations is also so difficult). But the thing is they don’t know inside my brain, inside all of the things that could have been; they just see what is.

[tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck”]Your audience, users, customers, visitors–they don’t know what they don’t know.[/tweetable] (There is grace in this). They don’t know the alternate version of the website. They don’t know the eight chapters that got chopped. They don’t know the fourteen other parts to your talk that you accidentally skipped over. They only know what they saw. What you gave them, in it’s presented version. Just because you know all the details, doesn’t mean that they do.

What does this mean?

It’s important to remember to maintain enthusiasm through a launch, through a release. The birth of a project is a commencement for you–the end of the creation cycle–and the initiation of the new project in the audiences eyes. They experience newly. Look at it with their wonder. Try to visualize experiencing it for the first time.

Planning for the rhythms: making time to rest after production.

It is important to also remember that a project life cycle has within it the natural hangover phase; the point at which you are so sick of hearing or thinking about it any more that it’s time to put the pencils down, pin the work up, step back, get feedback, and take a short rest.

An overnight to reconsider.

And preparing for this lethargic state, in my experience, helps wonders. I need to plan a night of quiet before the storm of publication or release. You can’t stop a launch after you release; rather, this is when the communications and marketing builds steam.

Practices for finding the good + restoring your energy:

:: Find the good. Think back to the moment you began, when this idea was nothing but an idea.
:: Thank yourself for having the grit to make something.
:: Thank yourself for showing up.
:: Write down at least a dozen things you did right in order for this to happen. List out all of the things you did right. (We’re too quick to forget this).
:: Acknowledge how much energy and time you gave to the project, no matter how it turned out.
:: Acknowledge that you are smarter, wiser, and more learned that you were before.
:: Trust that you get to keep all the knowledge you built along the way. Even if the project goes in the trash, your skills stay in your mind.
:: [tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck”]Look to the long view, and remember that this is but one moment of many.[/tweetable]
:: Forget about the project, and cradle your heart in your mind.
:: You did well.
:: You did good.
:: You are a good person.
:: That is all.

And sometimes, months later, I go back and look at the work that I did, the project, the talk, recorded digitally, the book, on a fresh counter top. And I realize, finally, strangely, after the time apart, that the work isn’t all that bad. Of course, sometimes the work is bad, and I cringe, and I learn–but sometimes, I finally see.

That maybe, in fact, I did a good job.

Good job.

Alright, Carry on.

Why Writing is an Act of Bravery: A Letter to Writers

Posted on February 7, 2014March 27, 2017 by Sarah K Peck

“Only when we’re brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our life.” — Brene Brown

Writing is an act of bravery.

Each year, when I teach our writing workshops, I get to work with a small group of twenty-some writers, thinkers, and creatives. Inevitably, the process gets difficult in weeks two and week three, because I ask people to share parts of their stories—their wishes, hopes and dreams, who they are.

My students write with angst—“I’m behind! This is hard! I’m struggling!”—and I know this feeling all too well. I encourage them to continue, to press on in the face of fear or worry, and to get their pens to the page as often as possible. I am here to support, to encourage, and to push—just the right amount. Enough to get into it. Enough to push past the blocks and the barriers. Then the insights come: “Wow—I wasn’t expecting that I’d write about that,” and “That was fascinating,” and “I just got lost in a 2,000 word story and I’ve barely just begun.”

Writing is an act of bravery. Writing often means facing your own darkness and light. This is an essay for all of the students in my writing class, but it’s also an open letter to all writers, everywhere, struggling.

1. An open letter to all writers.

Dear writers:

The past few weeks have been deep, winding, and possibly full of emotions as we unpack the thoughts and ideas that have perhaps been long been locked inside of our minds. We have access to our thoughts, but not always a full understanding of them. Emotions can have such a mastery over us, and forging a relationship with your pen can help unwind parts of that. Through writing, we discover deeper truths about what we want, who we are, what we value, and the stories that we tell ourselves. Often we have to write the stories first before we can discover what it is that we’re trying to say.

For the newest of writers, I often hear that these first few exercises are somewhat surprising, bringing up past ideas and thoughts that perhaps haven’t fully percolated or settled in ways that you had thought. Often rough with emotion and tenderness, I find that writing brings up ideas and thoughts that I’m not sure how to frame, or what to say, or where to go next. It is within this context that I offer up a thought of gratitude for showing up to practice, and thank myself simply for embracing the pen and paper as a way to discover new (and existing) thoughts and ideas.

Writing is a spiritual practice, a soul-cleansing, deep-dive into the emotions and ideas we might not even be at first aware that we have.

Writing is a spiritual practice, a soul-cleansing, deep-dive into the emotions and ideas we might not even be at first aware that we have. Some days writing brings out the best in us, and other days I have to thrash through words before getting up angrily to go for a long walk, dance out my thoughts, or drown my ideas in coffee, water or wine. As we uncover the deeper truths and ideas—we become aware of who we are, and possibly the painful moments within us that have been buried for so long.

Write to discover.

Writing lets me figure out what it is that I’m thinking, by putting words onto pages and telling the story of my life, my experiences, and the world as I see it around me.

When I come back to it, I recognize patterns and ideas and realize much more about my perspectives and point of view. One of the kindest things I’ve done for myself is take the time to make space on a page, write some words down, and allow myself to come back whenever I want to talk through my ideas. Not every day is a glamorous day by any stretch, and I often struggle to sit down at the computer in the first place. In fact, it’s amazing how appealing laundry and dishes become when I’m avoiding saying the thing that needs to be said. What keeps me coming back to my practices, however, is that this is the place where I’m allowed to think what I think, write what I want to write, and tell the stories no matter how fantastical or horrible they might feel. I have permission to explore these ideas, without consequence. I can write them down. So, I write them down.

When we look at ways to talk to other people and develop communications (and stories) that teach, share, and explain—or moreover, that persuade—it often requires a deep understanding of the self, as well as a deep understanding of another person. Whether you’re a marketer trying to explain your product to an audience that could benefit from your design, a teacher trying to clarify a new idea to students, or an individual seeking understanding from a close friend or loved one, it is through our words that we take the ideas in our minds and give them shape for other people.

Words and writing are one way that we tap into our soul and ideas—words are a connection device between humans, a way to tell stories and share parts of ourselves with other people.

Words and writing are one way that we tap into our soul and ideas—words are a connection device between humans, a way to tell stories and share parts of ourselves with other people. The more we practice using our words and explaining our thinking, the larger our repertoire of sentences and stories that we can pull from to explain ourselves to other people. The more we write, the better we can teach, explain, love, persuade. Writing, as a practice, gets easier the more that you do it.

Writing is about bravery and courage.

“Give me the courage to show up and be seen.” — Brene Brown.

“We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are. We all have shame. We all have good and bad, dark and light, inside of us. But if we don’t come to terms with our shame, our struggles, we start believing that there’s something wrong with us –that we’re bad, flawed, not good enough—and even worse, we start acting on those beliefs. If we want to be fully engaged, to be connected, we have to be vulnerable.” —Brene Brown, Daring Greatly.

The beauty of writing, and this is true for me quite profoundly, is that we can often make our way out of suffering through the act of writing itself and often just by writing alone. It is not always the action or the striving that must be reconciled, but rather the understanding and acknowledgment of feeling itself.

As Spinoza, the philosopher, is quoted:

“Emotion, which is suffering, ceases to be suffering as soon as we form a clear and precise picture of it.” – SPinoza

In re-reading Man’s Search for Meaning, a gut-wrenching first-person account of surviving the concentration camps of Nazi Germany, Harold Kushner details the quest for meaning in his introduction to the account:

“Life is not primarily a quest for pleasure, as Freud believed, or a quest for power, as Alfred Adler taught, but a quest for meaning. The greatest task for any person is to find meaning in his or her life. Frankl saw three possible sources for meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. Suffering in and of itself is meaningless; we give our suffering meaning by the way in which we respond to it.”

Forces beyond your control can take everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.

Writing is not just about sadness and suffering, either (and nor is life). Writing also lets us write the good things, write the ways we want to feel, and give permission to the greatness in emotion that needs as much encouragement to expand as do the emotions that make us seek understanding. Good feelings need space to expand, too. Write about all of it. Tell it.

Perhaps we are afraid of writing because we’re afraid of knowing our own story.

Writing is intimidating for so many reasons. We’re scared that we won’t capture the ideas or know what to say—and we’re afraid of what we’ll discover or become if we do pencil out those terrifying thoughts. in your life do you feel brave or have you been brave? Perhaps your writing journey can begin with a highlights reel: describe a moment in your life when you encountered an opportunity to be brave. How did you react? What was the call to action? How long did it take you to decide to do something? How did you feel before, during, and after? What was the result? Who was changed as the result of this event?

Bravery is something different to every person.

To me, I can find it tremendously difficult to act upon one of my biggest dreams—the dream that I’m almost afraid to make real, the one that seems so simple to everyone else but me. In contrast to this seemingly simple thing, this act that everyone but me seems to find easy, I would rather jump in an ocean naked, swim a hundred miles, or work myself to the ground than admit to myself how important it is. When I discovered the extent to which I was avoiding doing the practice of my deepest dream, I wondered to myself whether or not taking steps to fulfill this dream was even brave. Did it matter that it seemed like the hardest thing in the world was getting on that bus and taking myself to the class I was so scared of? Did each of these actions—even just saying what my dream was out loud to those closest to me—was that even bravery?

Speak up for something you believe in.

The answer is yes. Speaking up for something you believe in, even if it’s just a laugh and a smile; holding your daughter’s arms, saying no with your eyes, writing about a story that hurts to tell, taking a class that terrifies you even though it doesn’t seem difficult to anyone else—this is bravery.

Write, tell the story of your life.

Thank you for reading and writing,

Sarah

Making Money as a Creative Entrepreneur: How I Make Money, Where I Spend My Time, and What I’ve Learned From Launching My Own Ventures

Posted on January 20, 2014January 6, 2016 by Sarah K Peck

When I was four weeks old, my mother and father took our then-family-of-four from Germany to Idaho Falls, little baby and tiny toddler in tow. We were standing around in the living room, as my mother recalls (to be be fair, I can’t recall and I certainly wasn’t standing—more likely drooling), talking about the insane temperatures sweeping in. My grandfather looked out the window at the temperature: it was minus 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Indoors, the heater warmed the house to 70 degrees.

“That’s a temperature differential of 100 degrees on either side of that glass pane,” my grandfather remarked, tall and lanky, white hair puffing out of each side of his head.

“That’s pretty impressive,” he chuckled.

Across the states, temperatures have been dropping and reeling – with 40-degree changes in mere hours as cold fronts sweep down invisible air channels and smother cities with their frozen molecules.

As a small-business entrepreneur, these temperature swings are analogous to the feast-and-famine cycle that can be all too familiar when you’re getting your business off the ground and becoming friendly with the ideas of cash flow, budgets, expenses, projections, and launches.

Dealing with the volatile ups-and-downs of entrepreneurship: it’s a bit windy out there.

Some days and months are big days full of courses sold, booked with clients, resulting in high-cash-flow months. “I’ve made it!” You think, gleefully, unwilling to look at how much you’ve spent to generate that cash flow (and just how far it really goes—because if you knew that it would only last a couple of months, you’d be back on the streets selling again the next day).

Other months are buckle-down, negative-zero income periods where you spend what money you have on resources and materials that you need (labor, equipment, time, skills)—in order to invest in and make what you want. It doesn’t matter if you’re a brick-and-mortar shop owner, an online retailer, a consultant, or a freelancer—creating a life you love involves seeking and finding customers and clients, understanding the highs and lows of business, deciding what you need to spend money on now and what can wait, and—for better or worse—’making it work.’

“Make it work!” — Tim Gunn.

So how DO you make your money as a creative entrepreneur?

What does it take to branch out and start your own side hustle, business, or creative endeavor? As a long-time “side-hustler” who started both a consulting practice and more recently an online teaching business, I’ve been invited to participate in a “blog tour” of people writing about their reflections on life as an entrepreneur.

While I still stumble over the words “entrepreneur” and “founder,” I’ve started a number of projects that have turned into profits. This month, as part of the Laser Launch Blog Party, Halley at Evolve-Succeed asked me to contribute to a collection of stories from small-business owners with all my tips for making your first and second year as a business owner fun and profitable. This post is part of a collection of essays with reflections, wisdom, and lessons from the journey it takes to become an entrepreneur. (If you’re curious about the rest of the collection, check out the footnotes at the end of the post to see more.)

Here’s a behind-the-scenes look at what I’ve learned so far about “making it” as a creative entrepreneur. Some of the questions people ask me all the time include:

How are you making your money right now as a creative entrepreneur?

(Right to the point: they want to know where the money is — and I don’t blame them! Things in life cost money.)

What were some of the biggest surprises about starting your own business?

(Oh yes, there were plenty).

And often longingly:

I wish I could do whatever I wanted—do you get to just sit around in your pajamas?

(Hah! I wish. Nope, that’s not my life right now).

I wish I could say the last one were true — except I love learning and creating far too much to sit around all the time. In addition, the job of finding, getting, and retaining customers is a full-time job, so while I might write early in the morning in my pajamas and preferentially wear yoga pants during the day, I don’t just sit in my pajamas at home all day (and we don’t have a TV at home, either).

A quick disclaimer: I don’t have the magic recipe for everyone, but I do have a few nuggets of wisdom from learning and making mistakes along the way. Take what you will and enjoy.

Getting started (money-wise) as a creative entrepreneur:

As I shared with Brazen last month, these are the big 3 things you need to make it as a creative entrepreneur:

First: reduce your costs.
Second, save a bit of runway (emergency savings), and
Third, start with a side hustle to test your ideas.

People often think you need a big plan, a giant 30-point strategic framework, or have it all figured out to get going. The reality (in my opinion), is that you start small, test and iterate, and get smart about not spending too much money where you don’t need to.

First, reduce your costs — live on the cheap:

Live minimally. Gain freedom from your job by not needing the paycheck. The more expensive your lifestyle, the riskier it is to jump to something new and uncertain that could have a potentially low income at start. The more you can reduce your overhead, the less risky it is to make that jump.

“The more expensive your lifestyle, the riskier it is to jump to something new and uncertain that could have a potentially low income at the start.”

If you want to start something new or break out of a dead-end job, follow the path of the Ramen-eating hackers who live cheaply. If you live an elaborate lifestyle, you may burn through your paychecks. See how much you can cut.

Make it a game. Buy a $75 sewing machine and give up buying clothes for a year (which is something I did—and now I don’t buy new clothes very often, if ever). Learn from the family in San Francisco that lives with no trash. Eat on the cheap. Give up restaurants and alcohol for a year, or even a few months. Track all your purchases and decide whether that night out with friends or new pair of shoes is more valuable to you than your freedom.

The nomadic entrepreneurs who live around the world and work from anywhere are often working in places where the cost of living is low. They’re not somehow richer than everyone else; instead, they’ve often worked the airline systems to get thousands of frequent flyer miles and travel on the cheap. The life they’ve built is incredibly inexpensive, making the need for a giant business (and lots of possessions) unnecessary. My fiancé and I talk about and analyze ways to live with less—figuring out what we truly “need” and what makes us happiest, often discovering that things are not synonymous with happiness. The more I interview and meet people as well, the more I realize that the happiest people don’t “have it all”—they have what they want, and skip the rest.

Sound like too much to give up? Consider how much you want to leave your job or chase your business idea. What’s it worth to you? How much do you want to start this business? When you want it, you’ll make it happen.

Second, shore up your emergency savings for when you will have low-cash-flow months.

This is part two: save up a nest egg or a “freedom fund” while you’re on the job, if you can. Cobble together several different income streams (bartending, teaching, coaching, waitressing, and many other side hustles kept me in positive cash streams).

When I started my first job after school, I actually made less than the cost of my rent and loans. In order to make it work, I picked up two side jobs: teaching swim lessons on the weekends and tutoring high school students in the evenings after work by posting an advertisement on Craigslist as a geometry and algebra tutor. That extra $200 a week was my savings and food budget, and I was able to save a little bit each month—and eat. [tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck #money #freedom http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/money”]To get started on your next project, create a freedom fund.[/tweetable]

After a year, I had saved $4,000 on the side from little side jobs. It was just the cushion I needed for the next step: several months where I used that same night and weekend time to concentrate on tweaking my side business endeavors. Soon I started making thousands of dollars on the side.

More recently, I left San Francisco to head to New York to start my next business adventures. To make it happen, I sold my car for $12,000 and had about the same amount in liquid cash savings that I was willing to use towards building my next set of projects. I also tested the projects I wanted to build in advance, demonstrating that people were willing to buy what I wanted to make—and then, not leaving until cash flow was positive and knowing that the buffer funding was there for the variant months of lower-than-expected income (or higher-than-expected costs).

In an ideal world, you’ll have about a 6-month buffer so you don’t work month-to-month, but in the real world, you do the best you can. Nearly every one I’ve talked to has said it takes longer than they expect to generate consistent income—so that cash savings helps during the buffer months when you’re making money—but not as much as you need. [tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck #money #truth http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/money”]The less your life costs, the longer the money lasts.[/tweetable]

The lower your expenses, the longer you can stretch your savings. If every paycheck goes straight to paying your expenses, consider taking on a small side job to boost your income, even while building your project.

Third: build it as a side hustle, if you can.

Does it make more sense to start your business from scratch or build it as a side hustle?

I recommend that everyone have a side hustle. It’s called moonlighting, and it’s a great way to test whether something you want to do is feasible. For some it’s a paper route or a nail salon job; for others, it’s taking care of elderly on the weekends, for me, it was teaching swim lessons and tutoring high school kids. It’s a great space to make a little side money, keep your options open, and develop your skills in a particular area when you’re thinking of changing careers.

[tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/money”] The best time to try out your new project is now.[/tweetable]

Test the market viability by seeing if there’s any traction for your ideas, and tweak each iteration a bit to improve the offering. Perhaps you want to start a side culinary and health business. Set up evening showcases on the weekends for friends and family and let people know you’re doing a cooking class at a discount to raise awareness. Pitch your services to local vendors. Offer to teach at a high school. Spread the word about private lessons.

After a couple of months, reevaluate and see if you’ve made a profit. Tweak your project to build something people want that you also enjoy doing. If you need to, stay home and do things no one else is doing to make it work.

How do you know it’s time to finally take the leap?

There are times when you need to make the leap without a nest egg, without changing your costs, and without a plan. This happens, and people make it work. Sometimes the intensity of the jump forces laser-like clarity and an immediate reduction in expenses. But [tweetable hashtag=”@sarahkpeck http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/money”]if your goal is to set out on your own by next summer, start building your business and reducing your overhead right now.[/tweetable]

Most folks running their own businesses and building the life of their dreams are always in the process of doing that — running and building. These are active verbs, which take time, energy and innovation. It’s not about pulling all-nighters or creating an endless stream of energy; it’s about being smart about building something a little bit at a time.

People who are working on new projects or problems aren’t immune to risk. But they’ve mitigated potential risks by using strategic tools, building up their savings, creating clever cost-saving lifestyles and forming plans to tweak their systems to get what they want.

Leave your job when you need more space in your business or venture and when you have a few leads. I knew it was time to head out on my own after I made almost half of my full-time income on the side—I decided to trust that if I put my day-time energy into my side-hustle, that I’d be able to make up the difference. I also kept trying to get my expenses down to make it easier to make the transition.

If you can save a little, cut your costs, and test your ideas on the side, you’ll be excited about what’s ahead because you’ll have already planned for the risks and confirmed that project has the potential for success.

How I started teaching online and in-person:

I’ve always loved teaching and coaching—from one-on-one tutoring in high school to assistant teaching in graduate school. After I left school, I kept teaching by signing up for workshops and events and volunteering my time to run events.

I started teaching on the side—in the evenings and on weekends—by putting up an advertising on Craigslist as a tutor, by pitching conferences and workshops as a workshop leader, by running lunchtime events at my company, and by reaching out to places like General Assembly, Skillshare, and Udemy to work with them. As I built both my teaching experience and reputation over several years, I was able to test my curriculum, build ideas, practice presenting, and later teach more through my own website.

What if you have savings and a side hustle, but you like your job? When did you know it was the right time to quit your job?

I liked what I did in my day job—I got to manage the communications and work on our marketing efforts at a 200-person architecture firm. It had it’s own challenges and entrepreneurial endeavors—we created a new blog, redesigned a website, and launched a journal from scratch, and I got to work with some of the most respected names in landscape architectural design. It was intense, demanding, and rigorous.

Yet I knew I needed to leave when I got too tired I couldn’t see straight, and when enough people were asking me for what I had—and I couldn’t answer their responses quickly enough during my night hours.

(It was also convenient that my then-boyfriend and I decided that living in the same city might be nicer that cross-country dating, so the universe conspired to get me to head out to New York. Life tells you to move and change, if you’ll listen to the call).

Financially, I knew it was the right time to work for myself when I was able to draw clients, fill up my classes on a regular basis, and when I wanted to chase the next challenge in front of me.

What do you do now as your business—how do you make money?

Ahh yes, the money question. (I suppose I thought I could get away with not answering this!)

I do three things: I run a teaching and media company (SKP Media), I consult, and I coach. From time to time I take on additional creative and collaborative projects as well—depending on what needs to be made in the world, how much time I have, and how exciting (read: “Hell Yes!”) the project is and the people are.

SKP Media is the bulk of my current time and energy. It’s where I teach writing workshops, content strategy workshops, and my newest course—Grace and Gratitude, a two-week course on cultivating kindness and gratitude in your life. We have sold-out (and over-sold) each of the courses, and during teaching months I spend a fair amount of time interacting with participants, reading and grading, running the program, and researching new examples to share with the crew.

This is where I spend about half my time, and it brings in about half of my yearly business income. With this business income, I invest in teaching equipment, the fees and hosting charges for each of the platforms I use (in addition to processing fees), pay taxes, hire a teaching assistant, and collaborate with a number of other freelancers (like proofreaders, web designers, and graphic designers)—who help get everything up and running. It’s important to note—business revenue is not the same as income, by any means. If my business is making $60,000, I might only be paying myself $30,000 depending on the variables of expenses. So reducing your expenses and living costs is a great way to help in the early stages of building.

In addition, I consult from time to time with clients who are interested in publishing, writing, content development, and social media movements—my typical clients are people interested in developing their own thought leadership platforms, need help running a multiple-month PR campaign, or want help understanding and developing their social media and content strategy.

I also take on a select number of coaching clients if there’s space in the schedule, but I’ve been keeping this part of my business quite small as I ramp up the teaching and media company, which is taking up the majority of my time at the moment.

It should also be noted that not all time is spent on activities that make money directly—writing, for example (such as this post) isn’t something that necessarily generates a lead or a sale directly, but takes a fair amount of time. Learning how to balance business-generating activities with other activities that don’t directly generate income (writing, social media posting, meeting people at conferences)—is a balancing act, and one that’s been subject to a lot of finessing.

What else do you spend your time on?

The above strategies for how I earn my income and spend my time add up to about 60-70% of my time—but I spend a fair amount of time writing, as well (as much as 30-40% of my time, if I’m lucky).

I write about 100,000 words on this blog and my essays annually, and I write an additional 30-40,000 words for each of the various program platforms I create as well, which doesn’t include the amount of writing that’s left on the cutting room floor when I go back to edit and revise.

Each morning I get up early and write, for as much time as I have time in my schedule. (Some days are booked solid with client and teaching work, so my writing window is from 7-8:30AM before my day gets off to a roaring start). Other days are luxurious when I spent 7AM—11AM writing, before getting in to begin my work. I still have a habit of writing on Friday evenings and Saturdays, as those times are “me” times that are often undisturbed by regular work calls.

There are other parts of my life that take up significant portions of time — sleeping, eating, meeting with people face to face, yoga teacher training, traveling — but this list is focused on what I do in my business life.

What about you? Do you have any other questions about making money as a creative entrepreneur?

What have you done that’s worked? Do you have any advice for small-and medium sized business owners that would be helpful?

Leave a note in the comments!

For more from this series on entrepreneurship, small-business success, and business wisdom, check out the posts going live this month over at Evolve and Succeed.