Everything I Know

by Paul Jarvis

Your work

  If I had a nickel for every time I heard, “I’d love a website just like so-and-so’s,” I’d have almost enough cash to buy a yacht.

  I also see countless websites that follow the same layout as the leaders in the field, and use the same tone, the same calls to action and offer similar products. These aren’t direct copies or blatant rip-offs, but they’re similar enough that their owners aren’t doing themselves any favours. There’s nothing unique about them, so they’re utterly forgettable.

  While there’s an obvious benefit to learning from established leaders and those who have come before you, there’s no way to differentiate your work in the market if it’s exactly like someone else’s.

  We try to emulate other people’s success because it seems like the easiest and shortest path to winning at business. If they did well with a specific approach, then can’t we do the same? If a map to the pot of gold is already drawn, shouldn’t we just follow it? There’s just one problem; the first person who arrived already grabbed that treasure. You need to go off-trail and off-map to find your own lucky charms.

  The world rewards people who try things and come up with new ways of doing business. The biggest innovators get the biggest rewards, and those who simply copy the original model get only part of the original reward – at best.

  I can’t say this enough — you don’t have to model your work on someone else’s pattern, or to emulate how things typically run. And you definitely don’t have to follow how big businesses operate. If you take one thing from this book, I hope it’s that the adventure you choose is your own.

  If there was a single business model that anyone and everyone could use to become super successful, then private jets and yachts and fancy champagne would be on back order. You’d see money fights on every corner.

  So, if emulating another person guarantees nothing, then why not do things your way – where your way is aligned with your values and what’s important to you. And if what you try doesn’t work, you can always pivot or change things up. You’ll be in the same market as the leaders, except you’re now different from them. Win-win, right?

  This is how you choose your own adventure.

  Worth & values

  School teaches us to measure our worth by the grades we receive. They’re assigned to us by well-meaning external sources (teachers) and we’re worth more as students if we’re at the top of our class.

  Further along in our lives, bosses and even clients try to determine our worth by how much we sell or improve the bottom line. Our worth is also measured by how much we get paid, which is once again dictated by an external source.

  I’ve never put much stock in this outdated system. I’d rather determine my worth internally, and the only way I know how to do that is by living my life based on what I value the most. These internal values are different for everyone, and they can certainly change as our lives evolve and grow.

  If we measure our worth internally, external forces can’t affect it. It can be entirely separate from how much we make or how much our work earns in the free market. For me, income falls pretty far down on the list of what I value, so money doesn’t determine my worth. If it did, I’d work more so I could earn more money and therefore, feel more worthy.

  If I focus on doing work that aligns with what I value, I feel like my work has meaning. If I write a book that just two people buy, but it helps them immensely, I feel like that work was worthwhile.

  A large part of choosing your path is figuring out which values will determine your worth. Once that’s clear, it’s much easier to decide if the work you’re doing will increase or decrease your feelings of worth.

  Promotion vs. doing

  Having a blog isn't a business. Being you isn't a business, either. Both of those things are great, and both are important for building your brand and finding your voice. But, your brand and voice don't directly bring in money, even though they're necessary and wonderful things. You and your blog are not a business model, nor are they a substitute for doing actual, tangible, valuable work.

  People often come to me thinking that a new website design will fix their sales problem. Usually, I turn down these projects because I’m not interested in putting makeup on pigs, so to speak. Dressing up a product or service won’t accomplish anything unless it’s already valuable. If you’re focused on better promotion instead of better work, nothing will change.

  Work means offering a valuable product or service – and that work has to inspire people to pay you for it. The rise of passion-driven solo entrepreneurs is great, but passion alone won’t translate into money unless other people are passionate enough to open their wallets.

  What you do should line up with your passion and values, sure. But it also has to be useful to others if you want to make money, and for that to happen, you have to be (or get) really damn good at it.

  If people aren’t paying for your work, it's not a problem you can solve with more social media promotion — it's a matter of getting better at that work by doing more of it, or finding other work that does have value to others. Social media can only amplify what's already there.

  You can’t “charge what you’re worth” because your worth should come from an internal source. If you have lots of money, you aren't magically worth more as a human being, just like you're not worth less than anyone else if you’re broke. Worth and money shouldn't be tied to each other, ever.

  Sharing your passions on your blog or social media is great and it’s a smart practice. I do the same by sharing what I write. But blogging and social media don't make you better at your craft; doing your craft makes you better at it. You can certainly use your platform to test ideas. I do it all the time. If a tweet is popular, I turn it into a blog post. If that blog post is popular, I turn it into a book chapter. That's how I write – by testing the value of my ideas before selling them as products.

  Promotion is no substitute for perfecting your craft. And most people don't get paid for promoting; they get paid for doing actual work.

  Focus on the work

  Choosing my own adventure means creating designs that help others, plus pushing my creative limits as often as possible. There are thousands of web designers and web agencies that do exactly what I do.

  I don't care if I stand out or not, and I've never once promoted my web services anywhere, had business cards or made cold calls, because I'm too busy working.

  I also make sure that I do what I’ve agreed to do – on time and on budget. No exceptions. That’s what it means to do great work. It's not enough to get new clients or opportunities; you have to follow through and execute them. Every single time.

  All I need to run my business is to keep helping people by doing exceptional work for them. Twitter and Facebook could break tomorrow and I wouldn't worry.

  That said, I spend a lot of time writing, which is a form of promotion. I do this not to advertise my books or web services, but because I want to help others, and writing is the best way I know how to do it en masse.

  So my writing is definitely promotion, but that’s a side effect, not a reason I do it. I don’t think I could write good sales copy to save my life. But, I do want to share what I know, and writing information- and opinion-type articles and books is the best way for me to accomplish that goal.

  Writing also allows me to explore my ideas in public. I don’t usually know if an idea is sound until I write about it. When I share it with someone else, they either agree or look at me sideways. If it’s the latter, I re-evaluate the idea, re-evaluate whether that person is my intended audience, and sometimes I just move on.

  The business of “different”

  My own business has always been unlike other web designers and agencies because I focus on clients instead of the web design industry. This is a radical difference, because my industry is so deeply introspective.

  I couldn't care less about debating the latest tech trends or using the current jargon. Flat vs. skeuomorphism? Flash vs. HTML (datin
g myself with this)? They’re all just conversations that rarely consider the end audience. I don't even care if other designers know who I am.

  Instead, I focus on the people who hire web designers. I write what they want to know, I talk about my services in language they use, and I cultivate relationships by helping them succeed.

  When I started doing web design, you needed to be a designer to understand most web design sites—they were full of jargon and nerdy references. Not one seemed to care about the audience and customers they served. I thought this was a horrible idea and ran in the other direction.

  I try to ensure that everything I write or create makes sense to the audience I serve—which is primarily creative entrepreneurs. To truly be “experts,” we have to think and speak in ways that our audience understands, because most of the time, that audience is not an expert in the same field.

  Sure, it’s good to keep up a little, but when industry-specific dialogue takes over, we’re no longer serving our audiences. The most successful people I’ve worked with speak to interested consumers instead of industry peers.

  Keep questioning. Stay curious

  If I had listened to “expert” advice, I might be running a large web design agency with employees, health-care packages, investors, HR consultants and probably some stupid fucking pool or foosball table for “morale.” The office dog would have a bio on the website. That’s not a bad thing (except for the pool table), but it’s not what I want. I like to take time off—sometimes a few months a year. I like to skip work if I can and go for a hike instead. If it’s sunny outside, sometimes I'd rather play in the forest than sit at a computer. I get my work done, sure, but I get it done on my own time. I would also rather do the work than manage others. Some people are remarkable managers, but I’m not one of those people.

  Instead of following that expert advice, I stayed curious. I questioned everything anyone told me. I always felt I'd rather make something new that reflects who I really am than listen to “proven advice” and model what I do after someone else's success.

  You stay curious by taking a beginner’s mindset as often as possible. How would you approach something if you had never seen or thought about it before? A beginner’s mind acknowledges that you don’t know everything and still have more to learn. This attitude allows you to question even longstanding ideas and to ensure your work is aligned with your values. It also allows you to be more innovative than someone who’s cynical or bored. That desire to figure everything out elevates your creativity. It’s good stuff.

  Only you know what fits your values and works best for your life. What has succeeded for someone else might lead you to utter failure. So why not do things your way by following your own path? Try, maybe fail, but do it on your terms, in line with your values.

  Know it’s your path

  How do you recognize your own path and know when you’re actually on it? You don’t. Not entirely, anyway. Sometimes you can’t see it clearly until much later.

  I feel like I’m on my path when I’m doing work that matters – and what matters to me might not be important to someone else. But when I’m doing something valuable and I feel good about it, I can be fairly certain that I’m taking my best path and choosing my own adventure. It can definitely end up being the wrong path (leading to failure or dragons), but at least it’s mine and I can course-correct.

  When I’m on someone else’s path, it feels like I’m simply trying to make someone else happy by doing work that means more to them than to me. That’s okay sometimes, because we’ve all got bills to pay and life to manage, but I can’t see any real enjoyment or sense of accomplishment in the long term.

  We all want to do work that matters. Stick to your values, follow your true instincts and fulfillment can be a daily proposition.

  Just like everyone else

  You're weird. I am too. It's because we're different. Being weird is really just being your honest, unique self.

  What I mean by "weird" is unique or different, because no one is exactly the same as anyone else. So, being true to who we are can make us seem weird at times, even if we aren't weird. The more we try to fit in or blend in, the less authentic we tend to be. In this case, weird doesn't mean purple hair or clown noses; it’s about being true to yourself. It might even be unnoticeable on the surface.

  We've been taught in school or in corporate jobs that being unique isn't good. In order to be productive and useful members of society, we've got to fit in and be more like the rest of the world. Always be professional. Don’t stand out too much.

  Here's the rub, though. Everyone else is also weird, even if they pretend they're not.

  In work, we try to mask our weirdness with professionalism (I hate this word). We can wear suits or grey skirts and use the latest marketing jargon. “Synergy!” “Viral!” “Conversion!” Be careful not to swear, get too excited or passionate, and definitely do not let your personality shine through.

  If we don't let our weirdness rise to the surface, we don’t let our work stand out.

  A yoga teacher factory

  So many yoga teachers feel interchangeable. They all speak the same, use the same soft voices (men and women) and the same tired parables – even though there are thousands of traditional yoga stories to choose from. It seems like there’s a factory that pumps out identical Yoga Teacher BotsTM, all wearing the same stretchy pants.

  I was drawn to Caren because she’s different. In fact, I wanted to work with her even before she contacted me for a new website. You can’t trade her for another yoga teacher. First, in all of her online teachings, she does each pose with her dog, Willow. Seriously, every single one. Secondly, she talks openly about her struggle with depression. Screw the fact that all yoga teachers are supposed to be enlightened and perfect (physically and mentally), Caren tells her real story.

  Her openness about depression could potentially put people off. At least, that’s a fear we’d have if we were in her shoes. But, I’m certain it doesn’t turn anyone off. The opposite is true, because her openness actually shows her humanity. She stands out in a competitive industry by being her real, flawed self. Caren’s “weirdness” (by yoga teacher standards) makes her a normal human being. And we like humans, since underneath all that professionalism, we’re human, too.

  The difference between you & those you admire

  In the beginning, you might fear that you won’t be successful. Once you achieve some success, you might be afraid that you won’t get any more. Once you have a lot of success, you might worry about letting down your now-sizable audience if you change anything or say the wrong thing. At any stage, there are always fears.

  It’s interesting how we often want to emulate others’ successes but not emulate the fact that they probably achieved this success by being themselves. Their uniqueness is thought of as visionary or as radiating charisma – as if what makes them them was just a brilliant marketing strategy (think: Richard Branson).

  But when we’re starting out, we feel like being our honest self might put others off. Somehow the same logic I described above, if applied to us, doesn’t seem to stick.

  People are drawn to leaders because they’re true to who they are and what they value. Their uniqueness is magnetic.

  Being exactly like a high-profile leader won’t guarantee success for the rest of us. So why not be exactly like yourself instead? Let your own weirdness be what differentiates your work. Being yourself can be so endearing and attractive to others.

  So let’s all be weird together. And no, I don’t live in Portland.

  Professional profanity

  I swear. At home, in meetings, and in my writing. Not all the time, not even that often, but enough that it’s incredibly noticeable to some people. And occasionally I get called out on it.

  So, why do I swear in business situations and in print? Doesn’t it make me look bad? Uncreative? Belligerent? Unprofessional?

  Typically, I swear to make a passionate point or plea or to c
all attention to something I think is important or disturbing or exciting. Cussing can make people listen, take notice, and feel an emotion (positive or negative).

  I don’t use profanity simply to make a point, though. I swear because I swear. That’s who I am, and always have been. I am my brand, and my brand tends to preach about being yourself, regardless of the situation. I’ve always been a little bit of a troublemaker, and I’m okay with that. I make trouble not to be mean, but to make people question things they might otherwise take for granted.

  I also don’t believe in professionalism or being business-like, because even when it’s well intentioned, it’s phony. Pretending that your personality is something it’s not, to make yourself look better (or even just to look proper), doesn’t sit well with me. Obviously, there’s judgment involved here, like avoiding the f-bomb with a children’s group, but you’re more than capable of making those calls.

  What if we acted like genuine, real, flawed people to each other, in every situation? That sounds nice. If I watered down or censored myself, I wouldn’t be honest with myself or with others.

  I never swear, though, in reference to someone else—to put them down or to make them look bad. To me, that’s distasteful and disrespectful. And while I don’t value professionalism, I certainly believe in respect – especially online, where it’s easy to run your mouth or be negative to others.

  One time someone asked if I would swear in a meeting with car company executives. It was such a random scenario, but oddly enough, I had actually been in that situation a few times earlier in my career. I told him that I spoke the way I normally do, which probably included a few expletives. Both times I got the job.