When I last left you, in The Prequel: Self-publishing a Different Book, I was in the process of realizing that I had a lingering interest in going through the traditional publishing process with a project all my own. What is more true is that co-writing Leader Coach helped me see that I had a few more things I wanted to say, even if I had no idea in what form or package they would be shared.
I have been blogging since the early aughts. It’s a good format, fast, low need for editing (sorry). I even wrote a post to announce to my readers that I was going to put less pressure on myself to write “great” blogs and be more satisfied sharing raw thoughts, even if the delivery was imperfect. Still, I kept circling back to the idea of my book.
One thing that had started happening in my life is that the requests people were making for my time—usually for my free time—were more about how I had built my executive coaching and facilitation business than about actual requests for coaching. That was an interesting trend. I realized when I did these calls that I felt useful. I could look at someone’s solopreneur business and offer actionable suggestions that those people reported were extremely meaningful. I also realized that these types of conversations were very similar to the chats I had with startup founders who were struggling to raise capital to fund their early enterprises. In both contexts, I was talking about the ways I sold myself and the ways I saw stellar startup founders sell their initial visions. Themes around what later I named “passionate ambivalence” were starting to gel.
As these thoughts were bubbling, I was at a party with friends, and many of those friends were taking steps to leave their corporate jobs (in full or in part) for either a full-time solo pursuit or a new side hustle. There we sat on my friend's colorful couch as I shared some theories with this group of dear friends. One of my dear friends, Leah, listened and noticed how fired up and excited I was talking about the topic of selling, especially selling in a context that revolved primarily around selling oneself. She looked at me and said “Sue, this is your book.”
I knew at that moment she was right. I could pen a nonfiction book about selling that would bridge all of my experience as a lawyer, tech executive, venture capitalist, and solopreneur into one memoir-meets-sales-tactics book. I could offer my book in lieu of 30-minute pick-my-brain meetings. I could be useful. I could be transparent about money and how strongly I feel about earning it and building an aligned life alongside financial freedom.
Leah had given my version of non-business selling a tongue-in-cheek name: Suemanship. That night on the couch we all decided that the title of this new book would be YOUmanship. And I was off.
Later that same night, I decided to test the idea of writing YOUmanship by running an experiment. I would offer a “free” workshop on my formula for selling to anyone who wanted to come. Because I don’t believe in doing anything that has genuine value for free for strangers, I added an asterisk to the price point. I let people know that attending was free, but if anything they learned in this hybrid workshop generated any incremental sale or incremental revenue on a deal they closed, they would give me 10% of that delta as post-hoc payment. I didn’t check. I couldn’t check. But I loved the idea. It was a great example of YOUmanship.
I marketed the YOUmanship workshop once to my email list and once on LinkedIn. Twenty-five people attended. I did, in fact, get a few 10% checks as well as a couple other very meaningful gifts (to be discussed later in this series) from that effort.
Most importantly, in a 30-minute rush the day after that party, in preparation for this workshop, I wrote the outline for the book YOUmanship.
Coming up next: Writing, Actually Writing, a Manuscript
Any thoughts, feelings, or blurts? Share them here.
