“Dude!! Your wife is like, a really big deal.”
My husband’s friend wanted to write a book with me. He has his assistant google me. Comes back the next day to my husband all in fanboy mode, completely and utterly impressed with whatever version of me he found online.
When my husband told me that, I laughed so hard I legit choked a little.
Because little does fanboy know that (1) in the grand scheme of internetting I am so not a big deal and (2) this “oh-so-impressive” copywriter reliably sits on her couch crying twice a year, swearing she’s going to give it up for bartending.
That’s my Plan Z — you know, that thing I’m going to do when this whole internet entrepreneurship thing goes tits up for me.
Join me for Plan Z – An Exploration of Actual Authenticity in Online Entrepreneurship.
It’s free. No pitch. No upsell. And I want to hear what you have to say.
Don’t get me wrong. I love entrepreneurship. I fully expect to be doing it until I die.
And I’ve had an objective measure of success. I’ve been in business 13+ years, during which time I’ve made over a million dollars (in gross, cumulative income, so don’t light your hair on fire about it just yet.) And my words are currently read or heard by over a million people a month. So that’s pretty cool.
But here’s the thing. This whole mythology of the big deal, that secret in-club of entrepreneurs that OMG OMG if you can just make it, if you can just become Rachel Allen or Heather Thorkelson or Jonathan Fields or whoever the fuck, you’re *someone*.
Because here’s the honest-to-god truth: all those “someones”?
They’re Vox-chatting each other in panic mode because of something that’s happened in their personal life. They call each other up wondering what the fuck to do about this situation or that. They’ve done some things. But they haven’t done all the things. And life is fucking hard for everyone. Especially now.
And every.single.one. I’ve ever talked to secretly, or not-so-secretly, has their Plan Z too.
I want to talk about that.
I want to see what happens when we have a conversation that’s actually authentic.
Because as fun as it is to all sit around and bullshit about our deep dark fears of failure, there’s more to do here. And it has to do with my second-favorite soapbox: authenticity.
See, we have this concept of “authenticity” that goes around the internet world that makes me FROTH with rage. We’re perfect, and awesome, and hot shit, except for those carefully crafted moments in which we are not. But we only share those if we can reframe them as a before and after shot, of course, b/c #brandconsistency.
And I’m not here for that. What I’m here for here person-centered businesses, run by real live humans.
So let’s talk about it. The good moments. The bad. The real story. The stuff we all whisper to each other in our little Vox silos, so very sure that we’re the only ones.
Here’s how it works: