This issue is a little different. Instead of sharing some of my favourite content, I’m sharing my story. What’s Next is the start of something that officially started around a year ago but has probably been bouncing around inside my brain ever since I realised that the traditional 9-5 wasn’t working with my brain or my priorities.
Last year, I moved from a secure role in a large business to what turned out to be a very insecure role at a much smaller one. The draw was more creativity and the opportunity to write my ticket on flexibility once I’d settled in and built a team. However, things didn’t go to plan, and it became clear that my role wasn’t making the impact it needed to for a multitude of reasons. That’s a story for another day, but it included an awful experience with Facebook shutting down an ad account without cause or warning. Something I’ve since seen happen time and again through desperate posts on LinkedIn.
I knew the writing was on the wall, so I’d already begun to consider my options when I was made aware I was at risk of being let go. What I didn’t realise was that after six months, I was only entitled to the bare minimum of one week’s notice. The ease of being let go at such short notice made something in my brain snap. The world of employment wasn’t offering the security I’d been promised since day dot, and suddenly, the idea of going it alone as a freelancer seemed like the less risky option.
Setting up a business was a step outside my comfort zone, but the idea of What’s Next had been in the back of my mind for years. It’s as though every business I’ve worked for has been preparing me for running a business solo. Everything seemed to fall into place, from project management and accounting to creating a sales deck. The most nerve-wracking part was letting it loose into the world and putting my neck on the line when promoting it. I fully expected to get a negative reaction but found nothing but support from old colleagues and friends.
If anything, my family were the hardest to convince. When you come from an ex-mining town and your working-class roots say a steady job is the only route to success, it’s hard to convince your mum that making a living by writing from your dining table is an option. She sees it now, of course, and thinks I have the life of Riley because I can take the dogs out for a walk at lunchtime.
The responsibility is on my shoulders, but in a way, it always has been. My Type A brain won’t allow me not to plan ahead; the only difference is now it has a visible financial impact.
Of course, I love the flexibility. If I want to take time off, it’s up to me to earn it or suffer for my procrastination.
The lessons for me are to bet on yourself and not fall into the blinkered trap of thinking there’s only one way to make a living. Finally, always have a buffer fund just in case the shit does hit the fan.
