Apparently, at my age, I'm supposed to be winding down, slowing down, perhaps even contemplating retirement. Instead, I've decided to walk away from a perfectly respectable chunk of reliable income and concentrate on building an art business. Excellent timing, wouldn't you say? My bank account has requested a meeting.
As it's Small Business Week, I've been thinking about entrepreneurship and how we talk about it. There's no shortage of stories about bright young things launching startups, attracting investors and disrupting industries—all before their 30th birthday. Good for them! No, really. But what about the rest of us? Those who've built careers, weathered recessions, dealt with difficult clients, made some spectacular mistakes (some more than once, just to be sure) and still wake up thinking, "What if?"
I've spent much of my working life helping other people and businesses succeed—finance, customer care, marketing, communications, photography, creative projects, social media management. I've worked with wonderful people and had opportunities I wouldn't trade for anything. I've also spent an extraordinary amount of time solving problems that weren't mine, meeting deadlines that weren't mine and worrying about businesses that weren't mine. Occupational hazard, I suppose. I have a strong work ethic. Nobody forced me. Well, except the occasional deadline and the need to pay the rent.
Meanwhile, something has been niggling at me.
My partner Andy Wright (also a SBCN member) is a commercial photographer and artist, and together we've been developing CuriosityClicks, our fine art business. The more time I spent creating, the more I realized how much I wanted to be doing it—not squeezing it into the occasional free afternoon or treating it as a reward for finishing everything else on my list. (Has anyone actually finished everything on their list? Liars! )
So, at the end of August, I stepped away from long-standing social media management contracts. With vision and other health challenges, I'd been contemplating it for ages, but contemplating something and actually doing it are two very different things—particularly when there's a dependable monthly payment involved.
Now, the financial side of entrepreneurship doesn't get nearly as much attention as the inspirational quotes and photographs of people gazing confidently out of office windows, usually holding a latte beside a laptop in an impossibly tidy workspace( more liars!) Where are the photos of someone in their dressing gown at 3 a.m., calculating how many pieces of art they'll need to sell to keep gas in the car? THAT'S the entrepreneurship content I'd like to see.
Then there's the small matter of putting my own creativity out into the world. I've spent years promoting other people's work, explaining its value and encouraging audiences to connect with it. Easy peasy! Doing the same for my own art? Oh, that's a different kettle of fish. Suddenly I'm the artist, the salesperson and the person wondering whether anyone will actually want to hang this thing on their wall. I'm learning, experimenting and occasionally producing something that makes me wonder what on earth I was thinking. Sometimes that's when the magic happens. Other times, there's the delete button.
The upside of making this change later in life is that I'm not arriving empty-handed. I've got decades of experience, a reasonably well-developed bullshit detector and enough mistakes behind me to recognize a few before I make them again. (No guarantees. Terms and conditions apply.) I'm also much clearer about what I don't want. I don't want to spend the next several years being so busy making a living that I forget to make room for living.
I've been calling this next stage a reinvention, but I'm beginning to think I've got the wrong word. I'm not trying to become someone different—I'm giving myself permission to spend more time being the person I've always been. (Cue Haute & Freddy's "Shy Girl") Somewhere between being responsible, reliable, sensible and making sure everyone else was primed ( the streaming platform where you can watch "Carrie" which features the above mentioned song in wonderfully joyous abandonment) for success, I'd allowed some of my own ambitions to take a back seat.
So, during Small Business Week, here's to those of us who don't fit the usual startup narrative. We've got experience, perspective, a few battle scars and perhaps a slightly more realistic understanding of what can go wrong. We also know that being scared and doing something anyway aren't mutually exclusive. Sometimes you just have to take the leap—and hope your knees are still up to the landing.
I'm not starting over. I'm starting something else. Ask me how it's going in six months. I may be celebrating, panicking or looking for a part-time job. Possibly all three. (Hey Walmart- still hiring greeters?)
I'd love to hear from others who've made a significant change later in their working lives. What prompted it? Was there a defining moment, or did you simply wake up one day and realize it was time?
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