Everything I Know

by Paul Jarvis

  In any situation, whether it’s a meeting at a huge corporation or a coffee shop get-together with a fellow solo entrepreneur, I let my personality (with all its flaws) shine through. Especially in business situations, I’d rather the other party knows who I am as a person so we can see if we’ll work well together. I’m human and so are they. There’s no need to front.

  A lot of people might think this attitude could threaten my business or decrease my perceived credibility, but at least in my case, it hasn’t. I’ve been booked solid for years and I’m lucky enough to pick and choose my clients and collaborators. I believe this is partly because I’m upfront about who I am. My swearing does not reflect my work abilities or work ethic, just as being covered in tattoos doesn’t make me a criminal – they just reflect my personality and inherent weirdness.

  I completely understand if people find my use of profanity offensive or distasteful, because it’s their right to have an opinion. But like me or lump me, I’m comfortable with who I am and how I come across. My worth comes from an internal source. I realize I’m not for everyone, and I’m completely happy with that.

  Learning vs. school

  Just like swearing is part of who I am, so is the fact that I learn by doing, not being told how things are done. You might learn in a different way, and that’s good, too. The best way to learn is however you learn best—if it’s school, go to school. If it’s life, get out there and experience everything you can.

  I did well in high school, so the adults in my life said that I needed to go to university. I chose a tough program and got early acceptance. After one year, I realized I wasn't doing it for myself; I was doing it for others. I was there because I was supposed to be there – becoming that professional member of society who values himself based on his salary.

  So I quit.

  During school, I had started making websites for fun, around the time the Internet was starting to get a little mainstream. I built one website in particular, called pseudodictionary, that got really popular and was even featured in WIRED magazine. This side project led to my first web design job.

  I hated the job right from the start. I never wanted to work for someone else or to follow a company that was guided by someone else's values. But I also didn't know the first thing about running a business.

  I used that time to help the company grow – eventually becoming the creative director – and learn what I needed to make a business work: contracts, dealing with clients, setting timelines and budgets, that sort of thing.

  There was an end game in sight, but I worked hard to get better at my craft and develop business skills, too. When I quit a few years later, I was in a better place to start a company than if I had launched right out of school. And the clients followed me.

  I learned a lot of lessons (see: mistakes) when I started working for myself, but I minimized them by learning how someone else did it first. I couldn’t have received that kind of education in school. I had to learn it first-hand.

  One million dollars

  When I was young, around the time I was reading those Choose Your Own Adventure books, I wanted to make a million dollars a year when I started my own company. That was my goal. If I could reach that benchmark, I'd be successful. My worth would bust at the seams.

  So, I started doing work focused on that financial target. It guided the decisions I made and led me down specific paths. I said yes to almost every project, worked over 80 hours a week and didn't do much else. But the million dollars a year dangled like a carrot in front of me.

  The carrot remained until I realized that money was a horrible goal for me – not because I hated money (I don't), but because my goal had nothing to do with my values. The million dollars was just something I thought I should accomplish. It was a path set by others and I didn’t like it. Once I realized that this was my own business and I could focus on whatever I wanted to do, I felt free.

  Around that time, I was primarily creating websites for professional athletes. I would meet with them in person and I got tickets to see games all over North America. It was a great job for a pro sports fan.

  The only problem was, I’m not interested in professional sports. I don’t watch games, I don’t follow players, and I don’t understand the celebrity factor of many athletes. Designing sports websites definitely wasn’t a path I was choosing for myself, or one that aligned with my values – or even one that felt useful for anything but earning a pay-cheque.

  I realized that money wasn’t a valid goal for me when I didn’t feel more accomplished by getting more of it. Making lots of money didn’t make me feel better. In fact, I was actually feeling worse, because I was working far too many hours and not living my life.

  I was doing projects that I didn’t care about, because they paid well, instead of sharing awesome work. I didn’t feel like I could truly be proud of what I was doing and what I was putting out into the world.

  Designing websites just for more income led me to realize that it’s critical to care about what you do. A funny thing happens when you focus on work that you love; more soon starts to appear. Like attracts like. Plus, that intersection between enjoying what you do and getting paid to do it is the sweetest place of all.

  But money isn’t evil

  I’ve been told that in order to make work that truly matters, you have to distance yourself from money. Mixing art and money is apparently a recipe for disaster. This feels naïve, though, as if money is intrinsically bad. But what if the more money you make, the more good you can do in the world?

  Money can be an enabler and it’s definitely an amplifier. If you’re focused on yourself, money will make you even more self-obsessed. If you’re focused on others, money can enable you to help more people in need (think: Bill Gates and his foundation).

  Money also makes a point. You can measure how much people value what you do by how many people will give you money for it. It sounds crass, but it’s one of the best ways to gauge how much other people value your business. Make no mistake, this value has nothing to do with your own, intrinsic value, objectives, or sense of personal worth. But until money changes hands, other people aren’t valuing the business you’ve built as much as when they’re paying you for it.

  People can value you as a person, or even value a hobby without a financial transaction, but if the work you’re doing is a business, money needs to change hands (from theirs to yours).

  Jobs vs. hobbies

  Just because money isn’t my main goal, and making money isn’t very high on my list of meaningful activities, it doesn’t mean I don’t see its many benefits. I’ve worked hard to be profitable since I started my company. I didn’t want to invest much at the start, so I began as cheaply as I could (in my parents’ basement, which is so stereotypical for a nerd).

  If I was burning through more money than I was making, I’d quickly re-evaluate what I was doing. I never bought into the dot-com boom philosophy of “it takes money to make money.” Instead, I believe in starting and staying as financially lean as possible and growing only when sales grow, too.

  What I do is a job, even if that job is working for myself. If making websites were a hobby, I’d make them in my free time and not worry if I saw even a penny for my time. Jobs make money and hobbies cost money. I have lots of hobbies, and I think they’re important to keep my brain refreshed, but no one can live on hobbies alone – unless your hobby is playing Dungeons and Dragons, in which case you can’t live on that hobby alone, but you will definitely be living alone...

  When’s enough?

  Here’s how I think about money: when do I have enough? It’s an odd question for a business owner, but it has radically changed how I approach my job, my work and my life.

  I got this question from a friend who’s a contract accountant for a large Alberta corporation. While he technically works for himself, he’s very much a money and numbers guy, focused on practical details.

  We were out surfing one day when he brought up the noti
on of making enough money for the year. He explained that he accepts all the projects he can without burning out, until he’s made enough to cover his basic necessities for the year and save for retirement.

  Once he meets that target, he doesn’t take on any more work and travels to surf, climb and go on adventures. When he hits his “enough” amount, he closes the computer and walks away for a while—sometimes 5 to 6 months at a time.

  This approach stuck with me instantly because I had never heard of someone saying they’d made enough money. Most business owners are focused on constant growth. We’re always so caught up in the “more” of money, we don’t tend to ask additional questions. We also tend to focus on the bottom end of money: is there enough to pay rent and feed myself and my family? But what if we hit the upper end? Do we really need more? Does the upper end need to be so far into the sky or can it be enough to live a simple life?

  I figured out my upper target a few years ago. Once I hit that mark, I don’t need to work for a while and can focus on writing, music or whatever I like. I live very frugally (I’d call myself a minimalist if I was cooler, but instead I’m just a cheap bastard) and because my work is virtual, I don’t have much overhead or many business expenses. I also have an automated savings account to put money away for later.

  Knowing what’s enough enables me to travel with my wife for 2-3 months a year, on average. It’s also why I can take large chunks of time off to explore new ideas and experiments. Neither my friend nor I are the type of people who would hit that mark and then sit on the couch watching soap operas. Instead, it frees us up to pursue hobbies, side projects and other interests. And sometimes those side projects turn into additional sources of income (shameless plug: this is probably the topic of my next book).

  The “enough” mark creates freedom. Once it’s hit, we both have the freedom to choose new adventures and explore fresh ideas and places.

  No goals

  Once I abandoned my million-dollar goal, I realized I didn't have a replacement strategy. In fact, I didn't even know what an actual business plan entailed. I still don't.

  At first, I thought I could fix my sudden lack of direction by finding better goals. Try as I might, I couldn't think of anything that made sense. Did I want 100 employees? Definitely not. I've never wanted to manage people. Did I want investors and growth? No, because that would make me feel like I was working for someone else. Did I want to make a name for myself in the design industry? Nope, I'd rather just do my work and share it with anyone who’s interested, designers or not.

  So, I decided not to have any goals. Not a single one. Not then, not now. I still avoid them as much as possible, almost as much as I resist owning a suit and tie.

  This might seem like a total slacker mentality, but a lack of goals isn’t the same as a lack of passion and drive. Where I lack in goals, I hold true to my values and let them guide my business – and I work hard at sticking to them.

  I see goals as binding and limiting. They lead you in a single direction with a single focus. You have to pick path A instead of path B, because path A leads you to the goal in a shorter distance. Once you're pointed at a goal, you don't have much choice about the path you take. That’s why I took on every project that came my way when I wanted to make a million dollars a year.

  Now I let my values guide me, because they provide more freedom of choice. If I value doing good things and helping others, there are literally millions of ways to make that happen. I can pick the path I want and stay true to those values. They're vague enough not to impose limits, but clear enough to guide me in the right direction.

  Letting values guide my work is freeing. It means that if given the opportunity, I can always choose freedom over money. Obviously this can’t always be the case, since we don’t live in a perfect world, with tiny little helper elves doing all the dirty work (and baking us cookies). This is why work is called “work” and not “super happy fun time.” Bills need paying, clients can be stressful and sometimes the small tasks seem meaningless if we lose track of the bigger picture. But as long as our values primarily take the lead, it’s okay.

  Being guided by values also enables me to try and fail with impunity. If I try to reach a goal and don't achieve it, I've failed to reach that goal. If I stay true to my values and fail, I've still upheld my beliefs. I just need to try something else, try in a different way, or try again at a later time. Either way, I've never compromised my values; I just need to change things up and pick a different path, otherwise I'll get stuck in an endless loop, continually failing to slay that dragon.

  Start by stopping

  Sometimes you need to walk away from a situation to really figure it out. There’s better perspective when you remove yourself and examine it from another angle.

  I could keep doing the exact same thing with my business for months and years and even decades. It’s profitable and I enjoy it. But this heads-down approach won’t work forever, because it doesn’t leave any time to check in and see if my path aligns with my principles. Challenging myself and pushing against my fears are two of my core values, and that won’t happen if I’m endlessly building client websites. If I don’t try new things and new directions, I feel like I’ll stagnate.

  Recently, I came face to face with this situation and realized that I had to walk away for a while. I needed to forget about my work for a bit so I could examine it with a fresh perspective.

  I was scared to hit the pause button, because nothing was technically broken and mostly, because change is scary. What if I changed things and ended up with zero clients? What if I ruined a perfectly successful business by experimenting with ideas that didn’t work?

  Walking away temporarily forced me to think about what my business means and how I can better help my clients.

  After taking a break from the problems that lacked solutions, a funny thing happened: the answers were quickly and clearly evident. I rebuilt my practices and processes to better serve me and my clients.

  Meaningful work is like a drug – and just like drugs, you eventually become immune to their effects and need to up the dosage just to the feel the same high. I needed to up my meaningful work dosage.

  Sometimes, in order to stay true to yourself and your values, you need to innovate through change. And sometimes that means stopping and stepping back for a while.

  Start immediately

  Choosing a path implies action. A choice is a starting line, so make a decision to begin right there – then make sure you finish, because starting without finishing is the same as not choosing. You need to eventually figure out if what you started and finished actually works by putting it out there. It can be scary, but you need to turn that page and keep going.

  It’s easy to get caught up in all the reasons not to start. It feels safe not to stick your neck out and do the work you want to do. Why test the waters when they might be cold and you can stay on dry land?

  Most reasons to delay are invalid if you get right to the core: no time, no money, no audience. These are all future concerns, which make it hard to start anything. Worry about those things later or not at all. Make small decisions at first, and start moving in a direction that feels right.

  There’s no path if you aren't moving. It's just a single point in the road. The view might be great, but stasis never changed the world (or bought a yacht). The only way to see if your work might have traction is to do it and put it out there.

  Clearly, there are times when we need to walk away, or take a break or even change things up. I know that first-hand. But needing a change shouldn’t be an excuse for not starting at all. If you try something and need to take a break from it, that’s one thing. If you think about starting something but don’t try it, that’s another problem altogether.

  Start now. No excuses.

  BOOK TWO

  Overcoming obstacles on your path to adventure

  “There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and n
ot starting.”

  Gautama Buddha

  The future isn’t now

  Going your own way, down a path no one has ever forged, is scary territory. It’s not enough to be curious and to be yourself; you’ve actually got to do real work. It’s easy to get tripped up or overwhelmed with questions like, “What do I do next?” or “What happens if?” when all that matters is, “Where do I start?” So let’s do exactly that, and start dealing with some of the trickiest issues you’ll face along the way.

  Sometimes, we get ahead of ourselves before we even begin. We start thinking about next steps, five years down the road, what-ifs, or how it could all fail at a later date.

  We focus on the future, which hasn't happened yet, and we have no way of predicting. This cuts into focusing on the present and actually starting something. We turn our attention not to our work, but on what could come from it.

  This is another reason goals can be a hindrance. A goal implies something will happen in the future. It takes us away from the present and can even stop us from doing the work, since what if it fails? Why even try? Why put it out there? What if no one likes it?

  Focusing on the present requires real effort. It means not checking Twitter or email every five minutes or daydreaming about being interviewed on every huge podcast. It means doing what’s required, right now – and success still isn’t guaranteed. But if you don’t do the work, nothing will change, so why not at least try?

  For good or for bad, you aren’t entitled to the results; you’re only entitled to do the work.

  Our egos make it hard to let go of potential outcomes, but it’s important to forget the future. Entitlement is ugly and quickly turns people off. The results of your effort — fame, money, power, etc. – will either appear or they won’t. Spending even a second thinking about tomorrow requires you to stop thinking about the work you should be doing today. The results might not happen. But if what you do aligns with your values, those results won’t matter. The fact that you went all-in will be enough. And if the labour itself isn’t enough, perhaps you need to switch up what you’re doing.