I lay flat on my back in my Petoskey, Michigan bed, mucus filling my nostrils, throat and lungs.  A million ice cubes shivered across my skin.  As soon as I wrapped myself in heavy blankets, blistering heat threatened to burn me from the inside out.  Little alien aches turned my body into a pile of ill-fitting bones topped by a pounding head.  My alarm went off.  It was time to get up. 

Talent, skill and marketing tricks fly out the window at times like these.  None of your qualifications matter one bit when adversity puts its hand on your throat and asks why it shouldn't strangle your resolve to keep going.  

“Can't I just call in sick and tell them I can't come?” I thought.  I hadn't slept more than 10 minutes that night, and the thought of driving 5 hours, followed by a couple of plane jumps to Wichita Falls, followed by another restless night didn't sound appealing in my misery.  My emotions told me to hide.  But 150 kids had signed up for me to teach them about creative writing.  I knew that something special would happen if I could just get there.  I rolled my body out of bed and plunged my head under the strange sensations of the shower.

When I was a little boy I loved the cool water in the swimming pool that made Texas summers so much more bearable.  Every time I went to the pool my dad would tell me to swim toward him.  If any of the rest of you have fathers, you know what happened right before I reached him, legs and arms kicking furiously.  He backed up. 

It always made me so angry that he did this, and frustrated and whiny.  I'd push even harder, feeling unjustly made to swim farther than our bargain and slightly afraid that I wouldn't reach his arms.  But I always did.  Years later when I asked him why he always did that, he said, “I wanted you to figure out that you could go farther than you thought you could.”

This morning I was thankful for my father's semi-cruel lesson.  I pulled on some clothes, stuffed my belongings in a bag, checked the directions to the rental car return, ate some granola and fruit, said goodbye to my aunt and uncle after they prayed for me and headed out the door.

As soon as I got within cell phone range I called my girlfriend Vicki.  Talking always keeps me awake on long drives, and she knew that I would need some help this morning.  It felt good knowing I wasn't alone early that morning as I got onto the freeway in Gaylord, Michigan, knowing that I would have to fill up soon, but expecting slightly cheaper gas prices a little further down the interstate.

Twenty miles later the gas light popped on.  “Uh oh,” I said to Vicki.

“What?” she replied, slightly concerned. 

Nothing but slushy snow draped over tall trees filled my view.  “I hope I see a gas station soon,” I said.  Ten miles later I saw my first sign of civilization, billboards.  One of them mentioned something about gas, but it looked to be another 20 miles.  “I hope this little Chevy Aveo gas tank has as big a reserve as my Honda Prelude,” I thought to myself, noticing that I had seen very few cars on this stretch of road.

A mile and a half from the exit for gas, the Aveo expired.  “There it goes,” I said to a concerned Vicki.  Glancing in my rear view mirror I noticed a black SUV about to pass me.  I rolled down my window and frantically waved at them as I pulled over to the side and switched on my hazard lights.  “If I have to walk to the gas station from here I could very possibly miss my flight.”  Off in the distance angel choirs sang as the old, Ford Explorer's brake, and then reverse lights, came on and started getting closer to me.

A smoking cigarette poked through the gaps in his teeth as the driver asked what was wrong.  When I told them I had run out of gas, the younger guy jumped in the back, and I hopped in, never more grateful to have lost my sense of smell.  I said goodbye to Vicki for the moment and my redneck angels, Steve and Mike, drove me to the nearest Citgo and then back to my car with a borrowed plastic container and $5.00 worth of gas. 

“How'd you run out of gas in a Chevy Aveo anyway?” Mike asked.  “Don't those things get like 40 or 50 miles a gallon?”

“This one doesn't,” I said, noting how it had required more frequent fill-ups than I hoped. 

I finished emptying the tank, started the car back up, waved goodbye to Steve and Mike and drove back to the Citgo station to fill the rest of my tank.  Gas here was indeed cheaper than Gaylord, and I had only lost 30 minutes of drive time.  Vicki rejoiced with me as I got back on the road.  A little while later she had to go, and I called my mom for another partner on my adventure while I ate raw spinach leaves to supply my body with nutrition and keep myself awake.  I called a bunch of people that day in my travels, asking them to pray for me or somehow otherwise help me in my quest.  You can't survive if you try to do everything by yourself.

Despite a wrong turn or two I reached the rental car location in time to get a taxi to the airport and make my flight.  I kept worrying that someone at some point would quarantine me for my bloodshot eyes and obvious flu-like symptoms, but no one ever did.  I slept, shivering and sniffling under a blanket, for most of my flight.

Missy Mayfield of the Region 9 Education Service Center greeted me in Wichita Falls, and I explained my sickly appearance.  We both felt confident that once in front of all the kids I'd find the energy to perform and teach.  She offered up a local steakhouse as the place to eat, and after spinach leaves, a salad in the Detroit airport, and the most immunity booster, bee pollen, antioxidant, protein powder supplements ever assembled in a smoothie in the Dallas airport, I decided that I deserved steak.  Mc Bride's Steakhouse didn't disappoint.

That night I crawled into my hotel bed early, and slept for half an hour to an hour at a time.  In the middle of the night I awoke to sheets completely drenched in sweat.  My fever had broke, and I already felt better.  I changed my clothes and got into the dry bed.  An hour or two later I woke again with more wet sheets.  “Can your fever break twice?” I thought as I shifted over to the other side of the bed to find a dry spot.

Morning still came too quickly, but I plunged myself into the magic power of the shower once again, reminded myself that God was with me, and listened to hear Him tell me that He was proud of me.  It always sounds like my dad.

In front of all the kids the workshop went better than expected.  Seventy-five kids from the rural districts around Wichita Falls listened with wide-eyes and then wrote furiously when I asked them.  Their obedience, attentiveness and excitement always amaze me, and I noticed their teachers writing diligently as well. 

When we finished, Missy told me that I had exceeded her expectations.  She told me that one of the kids who had read in front of the class had extreme behavioral problems and almost wasn't allowed to come.  “His teacher said that no one's ever gotten through to him before today.”  A weak smile appeared on my face as I relished the joy of kids inspired and motivated as a result of me deciding not to give up in all the challenges that fought against me reaching the next stop on this adventure of doing what I was made to do.  I would have never made it without lots of help from others along the way. 

Hardship and difficulty will assault you when pursuing whatever road awaits your decision to get out of  bed. 

Talent and ability don't make that decision easier. 

You need a reason that's bigger than yourself and family and friends to multiply the tiny amount of strength you have. 

The world's waiting to hear that story. 

So stick your head under the magic waters of the shower and get ready to live it.

Read About Peter Nevland

What do you do once you and your business get discovered?  How do you maximize the fame, the exposure, the screaming fans?  Yes, I know it's a bit far fetched, but let's pretend for a moment that all your wildest dreams actually do come true.  What would you do?  How would you react?  Your answer says a lot about your current business state.

Milwaukee Burger Company, in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, blazed their way to the national sporting spotlight this past week with an invitation to burn one of Brett Favre's jerseys at halftime of the Green Bay Packers – Minnesota Vikings football game.  Of course the proceeds of the contest ($10 for every article burned) went to a charity, but the real subject that interested the media was Favre.  Do you hate him?  Do you love him?  Do you care?

For those of you who are in the “I don't care” category, Favre used to be the beloved quarterback of the Green Bay Packers.  After 16 years of dazzling Wisconsin fans with his incredible arm and Super Bowl appearances, things fell apart.  Favre considered retirement.  Management decided they preferred their talented backup to an aging superstar. 

It was messy.  Both sides got blamed.  Favre played with the New York Jets for a season, retired and finally came back again to play for the Packers hated rival, the Minnesota Vikings.  As last night's Monday Night Football game between the two approached, the media found Milwaukee Burger Company's jersey burning night to ramp up publicity for the game.

First, local television station WQOW covered it, plastering pictures of Milwaukee Burger Company's logo all over their nightly news story.  That's the kind of free attention that every business craves.  They deserved it for their great promotional party idea.  Seemingly all of Wisconsin buzzed with the news of the Favre jersey burning.  Milwaukee Burger Company had struck it big with Packer nation.  Then it came time for a different kind of news story, a live interview with ESPN reporter, Dana Jacobson. 

Owner, Kent Letnes, and general manager, Julie Kolk, appeared on September 30th, dressed and prepped for the occasion with hair gel and makeup generously applied.  I remember watching the video and wondering, “what sports bar is this?  Where is it?  Is it any good?”  During the entire 3 minute interview, neither one of them ever said their business name.  They explained their motivation, the cause to benefit charity, even the participation of both Minnesota and Green Bay fans.  They just forgot to give people a message that could turn the Milwaukee Burger Company into a tourist destination.

It reminded me of an artist or writer telling the entire story behind their work without ever mentioning where to find it, what it's titled or anything else that people interested in buying it would really want to know.  It got me wondering what you should say when the spotlight turns your way.  If you don't have someone else telling everyone about you, you have to promote yourself.  Turns out it's the same thing you would do if you were writing an ad or your own bio.

First, open with a strong mental image.  Say something like, “We're known at Milwaukee Burger Company for making burgers the size of your head, but our regulars suggested we turn the flames toward some Favre jerseys for the game.”  Woah, burger's the size of your head!  Is that true?  It turns out it is.  The bottom of their on-line menu sports a 1 ½ lb. “Defibrillator” burger and even the 2 ½ lb. “New Big Milwaukee”.  Mentioning your most compelling message first might get a reporter to ask about it, as well as the story they're interested in.  At the very least people watching will remember your name and what you're known for, which leads me to my second point.

Know what your most compelling message is and make sure everyone can easily find it.  I don't think Kent and Julie just forgot that day to talk about “burgers the size of your head”.  I don't think they even know that it's their most compelling message.  It doesn't appear as the central theme on their website, and I only found it with some super-sleuth digging.  When I did it made me want to try out these monster burgers, or at least get one of their smaller, but still amazingly good sounding, specialty burgers.  Had Kent and Julie known what people care most about Milwaukee Burger Company it would have come out somehow during their interview.  As it ended up they talked in detail about the Wisconsin Alliance for Fire Safety and probably got them some great publicity.

Make sure that you answer the reporter's questions and don't just plug yourself.  No reporter appreciates trying to get a story and only getting an ad.  They'd rather discover a secondary story (like a big as your head burger) while getting all the information for the subject they're currently pursuing (the reaction of Wisconsin fans to the Brett Favre saga).  Kent and Julie did a great job doing this.  In fact, they did too good of a job.  They let the ESPN reporter lead the entire interview, and she got everything she wanted.  She never found out what was really special about them.

Finally, close with an image just as powerful, if not more so, than your opener.  They could have asked Dana if she was going to send in a jersey to burn, or opened the event up to people who wanted to donate jerseys, with a $10 check of course, for them to burn.  They might have even thrown in a free “big as your head burger” coupon to anyone who sent something as a way to say “thank you, on behalf of Milwaukee Burger Company”. 

On the night of the game, their little Eau Claire burger joint was packed.  The fire department actually vetoed the idea of burning all the old jerseys, so they improvised, burned one and donated the rest to Goodwill.  I'm sure the night was a huge success for them.  Had they prepared ahead of time, they might have turned a one-time, local story into a Milwaukee Burger Company national popularity explosion.  

Read About Peter Nevland

I like Shell gas stations.  Whether it's the primary yellow color scheme, the logo of a seashell, or friends who have told me that Shell gas seems to get them more mileage, something about them makes me feel like buying their gas.  But I can't stand the Shell gas station around the corner from my house.  I avoid it like a dinner of coffee, poop & asparagus.  I routinely tell people not to go there.  It's all because of their offer of “free air to customers”. 

For the last couple years I seem to have been afflicted with slow-leaking front tires.  Even when I get new ones pretty quickly something seems to happen where I run over a nail or am punished for an unknown trespass against the lords of front tire protection.  Then it's either pay 75¢ or find a gas station that will fill up my tire for free.

Not too long ago I noticed that the Shell station around the corner from my house gives free air to their customers.  “Sweet!” I thought.  “Free air for my leaking tire and Shell gas.  What could be better?”  Noticing the labeled 75¢ air compressor price, I went inside to ask for my free air.

“Did you get any gas?  How much did you put in your tank?” the attendant asked, boring into my soul with his lie detector eyes.

“Umm, I put in over $20.  It says free air for customers.”

“Yes, but some people take advantage of that,” he muttered as he grudgingly agreed to turn it on for me as soon as I drove over.

Over the next couple months I returned every so often, asking for free air and receiving similar, untrusting questions, no matter which attendant worked there.  Once, I went back in to ask again if the guy could turn on the air compressor, since it never came on, and got flat-out rejected.  “I already turned it on for you.  If you want more air you have to pay for it!” he insisted.  I left, planning only to go there in dire need.  Not once did I get a smile of recognition or the sense that I was welcome in the store.  Maybe he discriminates against people with red hair.

A few months ago I visited the air pump with a flat tire, having no change to put in the machine.  “You can pay with a credit card now,” he informed me, seemingly happy of his moneymaking improvement.  I unhappily went to the machine and inserted my plastic card in exchange for air.   On my bank statement, the price had jumped from 75¢ to $1.25 for the convenience.  Evil thoughts for that store flooded my mind.

If you own your own business, make sure you provide what you promise and treat your customers with respect instead of distrust.  If you have a gas station, providing a free-to-use air compressor would go a long way towards increasing the customer loyalty and word-of-mouth about your store, especially since it's rare to find free air anymore.  I still have this affinity for Shell stations, but I'll never buy anything from the Shell station on South Lamar Blvd. and Kinney St in Austin, TX.

Read About Peter Nevland

Rain crashes and slides down the windows.  We rock gently in the belly of the mini Air Canada jet as the wind thrashes everything on the runway outside.  The guy in front of me curses, worrying that he won't get to Toronto in time to pick up his rental car.  I exchange jokes and smiles with the guy in the yellow shirt and headphones across the aisle from me.  We've been diverted to regional Hamilton airport, along with dozens of other planes, to wait out the storm.  I'm powerless in my seat.

This has nothing to do with marketing.  That is, it has nothing to do with marketing if all marketing consultants do is come up with marketing strategy.  At some point in the pursuit of every career path or worthwhile aspiration you have to do things that seem to contribute very little to the achievement of your goals.  Sometimes they directly oppose them.

I'm on my way to deliver the marketing strategy I developed for one of my clients.  My rental car waits for me to pick it up at the Toronto airport, just like the rental car of the angry guy in front of me, before the attendant leaves for the night at 1am.  My cell phone says 10:30pm.  After a few texts exchanged between me and my new girlfriend, and then a few more between me and my friend, Rashi, who's stranded in New York, it's time to watch a movie.  Seeing the new Star Trek for the 2nd time is perfect.

My previous thoughts had been occupied with typing out and completely establishing the strategy I'll deliver tomorrow.  Now they're all photon torpedoes, Spock and Romulans.  Man, I like that movie (I realize it's the second time I've mentioned it now in an article I've written).  Marketing ideas have left the galaxy.

Two hours later Star Trek concludes.  We still sit in our seats, locked in the plane while rain continues to drip from the clouds to the ground.  Pretty soon other planes start to move.  We don't.  The guy in front of me starts cursing again and tries calling Avis to make a car rental reservation in Hamilton, since the pilot says that we'll be bused in to Toronto.

“You know, I got some great advice from an annoying little french guy a long time ago,” I say to the yellow shirted guy across the aisle, loud enough for Señor “Curse-a-lot” to hear.

“What's that?”

“Theengs weell work aut.  Eets going to be au-k.”  My french imitation needs practice. 

This promotes smiles, and general agreement, and I continue, “It really hit home when I saw his train start to leave before he got all of his bags on board.  First a bag flew off.  Then another bag flew off.  Finally he jumped out with his backpack on, rolling on the platform while the train accelerated and stunned Germans stared.  'I weell take zee next train,' he said calmly.  Ever since then I figure that my travel plans will come together.”

The guy in front of me stops cursing, and the three of us start laughing and talking.  Mission accomplished.  Forty-five minutes later we walk out the plane door, in strict observance of the white lines drawn in exactly right angles on the cement tarmac.  The customs official actually laughs and smiles as I joke with him, allowing me entrance to Canada after a bunch of questions.  Our bags arrive, and passengers of Air Canada Flight 8114 walk out the door into the terminal lobby.  It's 1:15am.

After standing or sitting around for about 15 minutes the remaining passengers realize that no one ever told us what is supposed to happen.  Some of us, including the cursing guy (who got his Avis car) and the yellow-shirted guy, have already left the airport.  The rest try different methods to find out some information from different people who don't know anything at the airport, finally waiting outside for a bus to pull up and take us to Toronto at 2:15am.

The bus arrives at the Toronto airport at 3:15, and I walk, with a tiny speck of hope, to the car rental location.  No one sits behind the Thrifty/Dollar counter.  I'm going to have to get a taxi.  After talking to a couple janitors, who confirm that the guy left at 2am and that I need to get a taxi, I walk back to the taxi sign, and an attendant hails a cab.

Anoup, or “Lolly”, as he says most people call him, is the most interesting cab driver I've ever met.  He's managed an Indian restaurant, wrestled, worked as an engineer, and raised 2 boys with his wife, whom he married 30 minutes after meeting her for the first time.  “How old do you think I am?”  He grins as he turns to look at me, jet-black hair glistening in the glare of passing traffic.  I would have guessed wrong, but his history tells me he must be 60 or so.  He's 61 (and dyes his hair).

The  attendant opens the door for me as I get out of the cab.  I check into my room and then send an email to my clients, asking them if we can push our meeting back to noon, since I've just arrived at 4:15.  Then I send one more email to Vicki to let her know I've arrived.  Sheets and bed feel good.

Rashi's call wakes me up at 5:30am, but I silence it.  My client texts me at 5:55 to ask if 11am is ok.  I agree and go back to sleep until 8:45.  My bleary consciousness decides that food wins over sleep this morning, since dinner last night was a bag of salted cashews.  At 9:15 I head to the hotel restaurant.  After breakfast one more, dangerous, 30 minute nap gets me enough resolve to take a shower before my client arrives to pick me up.

Our meeting goes well.  Turns out that a couple of the company's decision makers got home almost as late as I did the night before.  They struggle to stay awake as my extrovert superpower turns on and we go over the strategy I've prepared.  We discuss all the fine details, agree and finish early after eating some amazing, Montreal beef sandwiches.  I return to the hotel to take a nap for a couple hours, catch up on the rest of my work, help my friend Rashi out, eat dinner and talk to Vicki, before writing. 

A few years ago I screened a movie about these two pastors who started a website called XXXChurch.com to help people addicted to pornography.  In the middle of the movie, one of them exclaims in frustration that he wanted to make a difference, but 95% of his life consists of juggling plane schedules, hotel rooms and long nights on the road, compared to the 5% he spends actually doing what he set out to do.  He quit to do something that made more obvious results while his partner continues on to this day.  Sometimes that's the way life goes.

Star Trek didn't give me any marketing ideas.  All the delays made me way more tired than I would have been had a thunderstorm not altered my plans.  But my clients made progress toward their goals of growing their business, and I met some interesting people and completed the purpose of my trip ahead of schedule. 

None of those things will make you sell more books or write more world-changing words.  You always have the choice to choose frustration or joy as the storm rages all around you.  Even if you choose a good attitude, you'll still face your impending task with more weariness than you thought yourself able to bear.  If it's worth doing you'll find a way to persevere long enough until things work out.  Just like my French friend told me long ago.  “Eets going to be au-k.”

Read About Peter Nevland

It appears that most of the agencies who advertise during online television programming have decided that their ads have to “do that interactive stuff” to be effective.  Maybe it's their attempt to measure the impact of their marketing efforts.  Maybe they don't think it's important for their clickable commercials to engage viewers with something they care about.  They're using the interactive internet backwards.

Watching old episodes of “Lost” provided me with my first example of interaction without engagement.  When the commercial break came, a car started driving through New York, but stopped after 5 seconds.  A number of opportunities for me to “learn more” about the car's different features popped up.  “Why in the world would I want click on those links to find out about this car?” I thought.  I was afraid they might take me to another website and force me to lose the progress of my episode.  No way was I going to interact.

The next opportunity for interactivity turned out to be a Sprint ad.  It was Christmas, and Sprint figured that I'd be engaged by wanting to decorate a gingerbread man with the different possible colors and decorating tools they offered.  It might have said something about Sprint's cellphone plans, but I don't remember.  What I do remember is that the decorating cools were so difficult to use I couldn't get anything to happen by the time the 30 second break was over.  I felt frustrated, kind of like I do when dealing with Sprint's customer service. 

Sprint not only didn't learn from its mistaken attempt at internet advertising, it continued to offer different variations of difficult to operate games.  One was a tree decorating thing that didn't work well.  My favorite was a snowball fight where I had to adjust the angle and throwing distance perfectly to hit the computer before the computer knocked my character down.  If I hadn't been so stinking competitive I would have never figured out the tiny, magic part of the screen that could hit the computer's character.  Even then I could rarely win.  There wasn't even a prize or coupon for playing!  The message?  When dealing with Sprint, they always win and you get nothing. 

Lost on all these advertisers is the simple fact that I don't interact one bit while watching the programming I've chosen.  The content of the program engages me without my clicking of any buttons.  I only interacted in order to navigate my way there.  I could care less about answering a Lexus or Stouffer's quiz to tell them what just happened in their commercial.  Will someone tell me something about themselves that I care about?

I've seen one internet commercial that I liked.  It was made by Target, played cool music and told me about an upcoming sale and all the quality merchandise they had in the store.  I had no need to get anything at Target, but I watched the commercial and thought about how much more I liked Target than Wal-Mart.  Unfortunately, they played that commercial at every break.  By the time my show was over I didn't want to ever hear that commercial again.

Engaging the viewer with the power of your message and finding new ways to repeat that message will always be the number one priority of advertising.  It doesn't matter how much technology changes the vehicle with which it's delivered.  If you can't communicate something the audience cares about you might as well use your dollars to provide enjoyable content and just say “sponsored commercial free by...”  That at least would communicate the message that your company understands that what I want most of all is to watch an interesting program without too many annoying distractions.

Read About Peter Nevland

I hung up the phone in stunned silence.  After two days of not being able to reach the first girlfriend I'd ever had, I finally knew what was going on.  We had broken up.  No one wants to work in the middle of emotional trauma.  It's much worse if that work includes dancing and exploding with joy on-stage in front of new audiences on your first tour the night after your heart is broken. 

"Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.” said C.S. Lewis in The Horse and His Boy.  I knew what I had to do.  The lesson of so many Sunday mornings after a week of rejection and inner turmoil years before had taught me that the blues are the perfect time to release all the pent up passion of pain into a celebration of life and joy.  I danced my way through tears, shouted hope to eager ears.  People cried and thanked us for the show, and then they bought CDs and t-shirts.

Did I milk it?  Did I manipulate the audience into a financial transaction for my benefit?  No, but I refused to stop at vulnerability and pain.  I avoided letting my circumstances and feelings define my actions. 

Recently my travels found me sitting in a metal tube, flying through the air on my way to Nashville.  When I opened up Southwest Airlines' Spirit magazine, this paragraph jumped off the page...

“It might seem odd to be writing about celebrations when the nation’s economy is probably in the worst shape any of us can remember. I believe that celebrating our Employees and our Company is more important now than ever.”  -Gary Kelly, Southwest CEO

If you haven't noticed, Southwest Airlines has a history of doing things opposite to what other airlines do.  It's probably why they've recorded 36 consecutive, financially profitable years.  But this quarter they posted a loss of $20 million, their first loss in 72 quarters.  So why is it that Gary Kelly is talking about celebration?  Why does Southwest continue to resist the temptation to charge extra for baggage, changing reservations and every other “hidden fee”, as they say?

Reacting to the present without a long-term focus would ruin their reputation.  Their entire business model depends on being the fun, friendly way to fly, the choose-your-own-seat airline.  And if every other airline complains about the tough economy, charges extra for bags, reduces their amount of in-flight service, and processes passengers with a haggard look on their overworked faces, I'm choosing the guys who throw parties while getting me to my destination on-time for less.  I can't remember an unfriendly Southwest employee.

In case you think I'm just talking about the airline industry and rock n' roll performances, La-Z-Boy made a fortune during the Great Depression selling a newly invented, unnecessary chair in a small town that nobody went to.  How'd they do it?  They set up a circus tent and had “furniture shows” complete with acrobatic mice, ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, leaping fish and free shrub and flower giveaways.  They turned their out of the way location into a cheap, tourist destination for a public desperate for entertainment they could afford.  When the people got there, they had a chance to sink into the comfort of an upholstered chair that whispered, “take a load off and let your problems melt away.”  People paid using any form of payment possible to get a La-Z-Boy, including guinea hens, coal, wheat and cows. 

Transcending the limitations of your circumstances will always be a compelling story.  If you need more proof, check out the Best Selling books of the 1930's.  Everyone of them, Cimarron,  The Good Earth, Anthony Adverse, Green Light, Gone With the Wind & The Yearling all deal with people who found a way to triumph over their circumstances.  Not even 1939's best selling, The Grapes of Wrath, with its misfortune stricken characters and plot, can end without Rose of Sharon nursing a dying man back to life, despite her horribly negative experience. 

We're wired for hope, yearning to believe that we can be something more, find some sort of meaning, even if, as happened in my case, pounding rejections have ripped our heart in two.  Decide what you're going to do.  Turn your own conviction and courage in the face of fear into a story that inspires others.  It will never seem pleasant to you at the time, but joy comes on the other side of doing what you never thought you could.  Besides, if you ever hope to turn that story into a successful book, business or other moneymaking adventure, it'll take your acquired strength to persevere when the only sound ringing in your ears is silence.

Read About Peter Nevland

Dust, sweat & the smell of hard work clung to two teenage boys as the door swung open.  “Hi, Mrs. Harmon.  We finished for today.”  She found her pre-written check and waved it toward our grimy fingers.  “We'll be gone next week at youth camp, so we won't be by on Tuesday like usual, but we'll be back to do your lawn on the weekend.”

“Oh, where are you going to youth camp?” 

“It's a place called Latham Springs, close to Waco.”

“Is that with church?”

“Yes,” we replied, at the same time.

“My kids used to go to those.  They're grown now, but I remember how excited they'd be when they got home.  You boys have a great time.  I'll see you when you get back.”

We walked back to our little Volkswagen Beetle with the Harvest Lawn Care trailer behind it and took off to our next lawn.  My brother and I always followed the same routine; mow the lawn, go to the door, talk to our customers and collect our check.  If they weren't home, we'd ride our bikes by later in the evening and talk for a little bit while they paid us. 

They'd tell us about their husband's heart surgery or their daughter's wedding.  Sometimes they'd ask us about school or if we could babysit their kids.  When we graduated high school, they gave us gifts and came to our sendoff party.  I can't remember a time when a customer didn't smile at the sight of us standing in the doorway.  We had always assumed that the quality of our work and our reasonable prices had enabled two teenagers to rule the neighborhood grass cutting market with virtually no advertising.  We never received a single check in the mail.

When I started working for Motorola I took the same attitude with me.  If they worked in the same section of our massive building I went by their office and avoided calling people on the phone.  Those conversations always turned to things outside of work as well.  People shared their different faiths, pictures of kids and stories of life before they worked at Moto.  My poems rattled off cubicle walls, cleanroom floors and into the ears of my coworkers.  “Did you do that one about stepping in poop?” one of the office managers blurted, loudly enough to draw some awkward attention.  “That one's a classic.” 

Call me an overhyped extravert.  Chalk it up to personality.  Tell me that you can't do excellent work with your friends.  My brother and I didn't lose many lawns, if any, due to our shoddy work.  My team at Motorola got an award for being the first group to qualify an assembly for a new product ahead of schedule and with no problems.  I still talk to some of my former neighborhood customers and fellow employees at Motorola to this day.

When life took me to stages around the world, I found no more important time than right after a show.  Tales of hurt, joy and triumph flowed like the streams of old friends from people I'd barely met.  I wrestled with fatherless kids who relished every second of healthy, older male enjoyment.  My brain swims through seas of conversations about hearts inspired to pursue their passion, reminders of loved ones who had the “same kind of energy and creativity.”  An email I got from Sarah Barnett in California tells it best. 

“I thought about how the first (and actually only time) that I met you, you and Paul spent quite a long time talking with me.  And for whatever reason I really felt genuine care or some form of connection or something that made me remember that conversation, now 5 years later.  I remember not really understanding why you guys spent so much time talking to me, but I thought it was a legit conversation and was happy to have had it :).  I think you should keep doing that and I imagine you probably are...”

We expect people to buy our CD, book, art, or other product or service solely because of how well it works, how good it sounds, or how expertly we craft the words or images.  But it's their own story, how people connect their own feelings and needs to what that actually sells all those things.  We can find marketing phrases and advertising campaigns that draw people to our door.  Once they've arrived, what better way exists to connect your story to theirs than to offer up your authentic self as a free gift in all of your business dealings.

“I'm always amazed at how many people approach you after you speak.” Steve Rae told me after a recent talk I gave at a Wizards on the Road Marketing Seminar in Toronto.  “They want to work specifically with you, and it's because you put yourself into your speaking.  You don't hide the crazy poetry you write or the excitement that you feel in life.  It's what sells your business.”

I guess I just always thought that people are more important than whatever benefit they give me or I give them.  That doesn't excuse me from ensuring the quality of my work or the fulfillment of my word.  In fact, it makes those things easier.  Two, dirt-covered boys didn't have to study a training manual or develop a well-rehearsed presentation to communicate authenticity and a genuine concern for our customers.  But we did have to spend a little extra time talking about things that didn't seem to have any connection to business.  It just so happens that we gave the most valuable product or service we possessed: the gift of ourselves.

Read About Peter Nevland

“Can you help us?  Can you help us sell our water, Peter?”

Thomas and I had been talking for a little bit, catching up with each other's lives amidst the hordes of people swarming around booths at the Austin non-profit fair.  When he heard that I've now added “marketing consultant” to my list of abilities, his eyes changed from those of a contented friend to those of a slightly desperate man, looking for food for his kids.

“What's special about Cielo water?” I asked, wondering how much BS I would have to make fragrant in order to convince people that Thomas' “Cielo” water was different than any other.  It wasn't enough that everyone in that fair loved his non-profit, the Austin House of Prayer.  In fact, that almost was a hindrance, since most people that run a business on the side to support a non-profit they love, sell crappy products that people buy to be nice.

“It keeps you healthy.  We can put your company logo on the bottle.  It supports the Austin House of Prayer...”

“Keep going,” I said.  “What do people care about when they think about buying purified water?”

Thomas put his hand on his chin and thought for a moment.  Suddenly his eyes brightened.  “It was voted the best tasting water by the Austin Chronicle.”

Now we were getting somewhere.  The Austin Chronicle has no great love for churches or conservative Christians.  If they liked it, they either liked the taste and didn't know what it supports or liked the taste despite what it supports.  Either way, it convinced me that it must taste decent.

“Do you tell anyone about this?”

“Not really,” he said.

“What makes it taste so good?”

Thomas eyes' came alive again.  “It has extra oxygen in it.  Oxygen is what makes water sweet.  The reason cold water tastes sweeter than warm water is because cold water can contain more dissolved oxygen than warm water.  We use a special proprietary process to dissolve 3 to 4 times the amount of oxygen found in normal purified water to sweeten it's already great taste.”

We had struck gold.  “How do you find customers to buy your water?”  I had found the message, but I needed a way to deliver it.

“Well, we have a website and we make sales calls.  Oh, and we only deliver large bottles that have been certified to have a lower carbon footprint.  And we don't charge for delivery, which is free, and set according to our customers' schedule, not like national brand water.”

“So what do you tell people when you call?”

“I'd introduce myself and tell them I'm with Cielo water and ask if they would be interested in getting our water in their office.  I tell them it's healthy and...”

“You need a script,” I said.  “You need to open with what people care about in a way that will make them listen.  It should start with something like... would you be interested in getting the best tasting water in Austin as voted by the Austin Chronicle?...  and continue by proving to them why it tastes better.  You know, talk about the oxygen, followed by the low price, and then maybe mention the thing about the environment, and finally mention that it also supports a non-profit, so that they'll feel like they're doing good for the community by buying your great product.”

Just then, I saw my friend, Rigel, who sells urban real estate, walking towards us.

“Watch this, Thomas,” I said.  “Hey, Rigel, do you get bottled water in your office?”

“Yeah,” Rigel said.

“Does it taste very good?”

“Not really.”

“Would you be interested in getting the best tasting water in Austin, as voted by the Austin Chronicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what makes water taste sweet?” I continued.

“No.”

“The amount of oxygen dissolved in it.  That's why cold water tastes sweeter than warm water.  It can hold more oxygen, because at colder temperatures, the oxygen has less energy and can't escape.  Cielo water contains 3 to 4 times the amount of oxygen of regular purified water, so it always tastes sweeter.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and they'll help you lower your carbon footprint from your current use, and you'll be supporting the Austin House of Prayer.”

“Dang!  Where do I sign up?” Rigel said.

I pointed him to Thomas, and he talked with him for a while and got the information he needed to start getting Cielo water sent to him.  When he left, Thomas started talking to me again.

“Man, Peter you're a good salesman,” he said, making me a bit uncomfortable.  “Would you be willing to work for us generating sales leads?”

“You're kidding, right?”  My whole point was to prove to him that the script, the message, is what lets people know they should buy this great product, not the messenger.  He could get a team of monkeys and sell way more water than I ever could on my own if he would just implement the script I had crafted for him on the spot.  He didn't want help so that he could sell more Cielo water.  He wanted me to sell more Cielo water.

A few days later I got an email from Thomas, extending his offer for me to generate sales leads.  There was monetary compensation for every one I could generate and blah, blah, blah...  I sent him a counter offer telling him I would write the script for him that his team of monkeys could use, and he could pay me for that, but that I didn't have time to be a monkey myself.  I still haven't heard back from him.

Coming up with a great plan is the easy part.  It's the doing of it that will cause you to either succeed or fail.  “Can you help us?  Can you help us, Peter?”  Sure, I can help you.  I can give you what you need.  But I can't do it for you.  And neither will anyone else.

Read About Peter Nevland

Fruit flies must contribute something to the world's ecology, like pollination or some small role in the breakdown of hazardous waste, but I can't stand them in my house.  I've been killing them for days with my bare hands since I got home from a recent business trip.  Although I've killed dozens with my cat-like reflexes, they keep coming back.  It's got me thinking, “If I'm experiencing a problem with fruit flies, I bet other people are too.  Could I make some money off this?”

Now you may laugh, but that's exactly the way that small businesses start.  It's why I left an engineering job at Motorola to start a new genre of performance art.  It's how the Snuggle blanket has turned millions of Americans into members of a stupid looking cult.  And it's how I'm going to eradicate fruit flies in millions of homes and unleash all sorts of ecological disaster.

So what do I need if my fruit fly killing business is going to make it, especially in our current, fearful economy?  A great marketing plan?  A government handout?  The screeching of a cat outside informs me that both those answers aren't close to the truth.  Anthony Tjan a Harvard Fellow, venture capitalist CEO and one of the World Economic Forum's Global Leaders of Tomorrow says you need “smarts, guts & luck.”  I think he's pretty close, and I'm a little upset that he published his article 3 days before mine, because I decided to write about the same topic a few months ago. 

My own observations lead me to believe that talent, money and unstoppability make businesses (and entertainers, for that matter) succeed or fail.  All 3 must be present at some point in the life of a business.  Having 2 out of those 3 in high abundance is absolutely necessary at any one time.  Only having one gets you a ticket in the food stamp line.

1. What do I mean when I say talent?  I'm talking about Elton John songwriting, Aretha Franklin's voice or Tiger Woods' swing.  For my fruit fly killing business, am I good at killing fruit flies?  Or more importantly, can I make a system of killing fruit flies that does it better than anyone else's? Eventually my hands are going to start hurting from all the smashing of those fat little bodies, and I can't be everywhere at once.  I need to invent a way to kill fruit flies that's easy to understand and use when I'm not there.

My quick amount of research has shown me that some red wine, a little water and a drop of soap do the trick really well.  If I can turn that into vinegar, water and soap, I bet I can cut some cost.  If I can figure out a way to package it into a container that I can ship around the world, I've got myself some fruit fly killing talent.  If I wasn't any good at killing fruit flies, I would need to figure out exactly what I am good at so that I can attract people who can help me with the talented fruit fly killing part.

2. Most startup businesses don't begin with stockpiles of money.  If you have tons of money at the beginning, that's great.  Harness the genius of some talented inventors and then hire a Wizard of Ads Partner to make you a great marketing plan that tells the world about your fruit fly killing product.  If you don't have oodles of cash, don't quit your day job.  You're going to need enough income to survive the long road that leads to success.  Lower your expenses.  Live below your means.  Make as many friends as possible and tell them about your amazing fruit fly eradicating invention.  The right people can open the door to an oasis of money.  And you never know who the right person is until after you've made the most of or missed your chance.

3. Unstoppability doesn't give up, even when every emotion tells you you've failed.  Keep learning how to kill more fruit flies faster.  Don't stop knocking on the doors of retail chains.  Find a way to remember the idea and passion that started you killing fruit flies in the first place.  Take time to rest so that you can kill more fruit flies tomorrow.  Willie Nelson played in clubs and wrote hit songs for 33 years before he became an overnight success.  It took 12 years for the weak adhesive invented by Silver Spencer to turn into the Post-it Note.  Scott Alexander sold millions of his simply written “Rhinoceros Success” book series at age 23 by showing up everywhere in a jungle outfit with rhino paraphernalia.  If eradicating fruit flies from every home in America is worth doing, do it with all your heart. 

The screeching cat outside tells me that people will always lament the rich and famous who seem to do nothing more but show up in the right place at the right time.   Don't worry about them.  You can't copy someone else's good fortune, and if it's not supported by at least 2 of the above elements, it won't last.  But if you see someone you despise exhibiting continued success, learn what you can from them.  Pride tends to negate all 3 and keeps your dreams from inspiring anyone but yourself.  You don't want to be successful at being alone.  I want to be successful at killing fruit flies.  So I'm off to check on my trap.

Read About Peter Nevland

Just past A-Rod's steroid confession and the tales of national and international conflict, Google's news website reads like an indicator of a changing guard.  On the left, the business section teems with bailouts, resigning SEC officials and toppling industry giants.  On the right, Amazon, Google, Microsoft and Apple churn out wave after wave of technological progress.  If you're committed to doing things the way you've always done things, I can tell you which column indicates the future of your business fortunes.

Opportunities abound in the turmoil of these times.  The climate has changed.  Gone are the predictions of “it's coming”, “it's on its way” and “things are about to happen.  We've embraced a recession era mentality.  Does it make you excited?  It should. 

Shifting media trends have resulted in advertising deals for businesses that aren't knee deep in debt.  If you need to get your message out, now's the time to do it.  People are beginning to realize that they can't survive with a website that sucks.  That's great news for website developers or anyone who's not afraid of learning a new skill.  Plus, it's much easier to find talented programmers who need income. 

If you can embrace or develop new technology to satisfy the requests of your customers, you'll rise head and shoulders above your competitors.  Don't get sucked into the mentality of only doing what makes you happy or sticking to your business model.  When the same request for something outside your company model keeps popping up, find a way to add it to your products or services.  Then incorporate your unique spin to it.  You'll find new revenue streams to supplement the decline in your current lines

It reminds me of the constant complaining I hear on my performance tours of England.  “I can't stand the rain.”  “It's been such a cold summer.”  When the sun finally comes out they say, “Oh, it's so hot today!”  I've always loved the weather there.  It's so much cooler than Texas summers.  I get to splash in puddles and drink in the green of rolling fields that stretch as far as I can see.  Come to think of it, I also love running in the hot sun and plunging into swimming pools to cool off.  When the weather changes it becomes that much more pleasurable.

Take advantage of the changes in our economic climate.  Don't cling to your dwindling supplies.  Decaying business practices provide the fertilization and growth potential for leaps forward in creativity.   Plant your seeds and watch them grow.  Experiment with new methods and see what inventions arise.  You'll get your hands a little dirty and encounter problems that you didn't foresee.  But it will keep you moving forward into brighter days instead of merely attempting to stay alive.

Read About Peter Nevland