Selling My Soul is My Bread and Butter
My love for writing has definitely helped leverage what I call my “bread and butter”: marketing + event production.
What feels like a billion years ago, I paid $1,000 to attend a 1-day event hosted by Marie Forleo and Danielle LaPorte (2 women powerhouses) called How To Sell Your Soul. Talk about a major reframe of what it means to sell from a place of passion, truth and authenticity (hello! it’s soul work!)
Anyway, today I find myself working 95% remotely, with each project getting better at “buttering my bread”. For an office, I have wherever pleases me: sometimes it’s at my local sweet-ass mill cafe, other times is in my jam’s in bed. At the risk of sounding like I’m trying to rope you in to some online program I developed called “How To Make A Billion Dollars a Month Doing What You Love!”– which i am not, to be clear — I will say that today I find myself supporting myself in a way that feels good. Doing something I’m actually really good at.
Post-college, I set out to become a museum curator. Enter grad school. I have a nice and hefty student loan amount to show for that degree. I always joke about abandoning that field altogether, but I know that’s not entirely true. I love curating, I love using words to create an experience, and I freaking love hosting/producing events that matter. That’s ultimately what’s in it for me: the event itself. The sharing of space and experience.
It’s also key to mention that I finally understand the meaning of choosing who my clients are. It makes the whole difference. (I kid you not: one of my clients recently wrote me and said, “I thank God many, many times a day for you and all the work you are doing to help make this event a super success”. Holy sweet baby infant Jesus, you cannot find a better testimonial than THAT. I mean, you probably could, but… you know what I mean?!?!?!)
Looking back, I totally got myself into tons of credit card debt by signing up to pricey courses/workshops/trainings/retreats. I mean, a grand for a 1-day event? Daaaamn.
Though, one of the many things I learned from Marie was how to over-deliver. Make the client walk away feeling like they got a whole lot more than what they expected. Give them 10 times the value of whatever they pay for.
As I continue to set roots down in Western Mass, having grounded myself in a line of work that allows me to support myself and my child is nothing short of miraculous. Because, as stoked as I am to be doing this work, I’m really taken to another level of heights when I realize that this is “my day job.” It’s what’s paying the bills. While on the side, I do my hustle to build what my soul is being called to.
You see, since buying that piece of land (btw- thanks, Mom! I promise I will pay you back!), I believed with every ounce of my being that I was meant to open up a hot yoga studio of sorts. The name of this space became evident within days of committing to this: I decided that I would call my space Roots + Embers.
Little did I realize at the time, however, that I would step on exactly 40 toes in the process.
As in, 4 feet belonging to 2 women.
One is a yoga studio owner whose studio is on the same block as my land. The other is also a yoga studio owner that is opening up her spot in the neighborhood and calling it Root Yoga.
Call me naive, but deep in my heart I believed that if indeed all 3 of us where to go after what we want, we’d all thrive.
Ultimately, though, I decided to compost the whole plan. Under the last full moon, I buried it, so to speak.
And now I am left with a Blank Canvas.
Within minutes of releasing Roots + Embers, another vision for the space materialized in the form of an idea. I mean, like that fast (snaps fingers).
Even though I can see it in its entirety, it’s very much still in gestation. Meaning, I will not share about it just yet.
But when it’s time, boy oh boy will all this experience in marketing + production come in handy.
So, excuse me while I go roll up my sleeves, accessorize my tool belt, with the proverbial pencil behind my ear, and draw out the plan. Remembering to leave space for God to laugh + give him full freedom to jump in and say, “that’s cute, but try this instead.”
(tip my hat).