Today we welcome Sheila Smith, author of The Birthday Dragon, which she proudly self-published this year.  Sheila candidly shares her experience of launching her own business, and the mistakes she learnt from along the way.  Thanks for joining us, Sheila!  Emma

As I prepared to self-publish my first book, The Birthday Dragon, I thought (rather smugly) that the business side would be easy. Experienced in publishing and in business generally, I wasn’t going to do anything silly. Yes, that’s the sound of my forehead hitting the desk.

Not only did I do it all wrong, I didn’t even do what I already knew! What was I actually doing when I should have been getting the business side squared away? Well… mostly coughing while I formatted until my eyes bled.

As a one-person business, there was only me to get things done.  And I simply wasn’t all there. I’d come down with the flu, which was the topper to a ghastly six months for me. So, right as I published my book (in a fever-dream), I spent a couple of weeks in a state of semi-collapse.

If I could do it all again, I’d do plenty of things differently.  Here’s my top five mistakes.

1.      Don’t forget your launch plan. You need it where you can see it. Consider having it tattooed inside your eyelids, or on the forehead of your beloved. I forgot to look at my plan. Completely.

2.      Emotions are great fuel, but don’t leave your brain behind. Someone bought a copy of my book, emotion took over and my mind went completely blank. I forgot I was even launching a business.

3.      Don’t be vague. I was planning to launch sometime in June, thinking I was avoiding pressuring myself. But sometime on May 30th, while in a flu haze, I became obsessed with publishing on June 1st. This is probably how the first edition ended up with an entire scene accidentally deleted from chapter one!

4.      Even no-budget launches need marketing and PR. I made a few semi-hysterical tweets about my book’s debut. Sales went into double figures on the first day. I thought this might happen in a few months. In shock, I was convinced (in my delirium) that it would be arrogant to note who mentioned buying it. I did thank them though!

5.      Without my support systems, I was fail. I ignored my friends. Several marketing and PR lovelies sent long thoughtful emails, to which I said mostly “Argh no!”. Instead of figuring a way to use what they suggested, I had knee-jerk reactions based on my current (ill, over-emotional, reclusive) circumstances. Part of my problem was an inability to see even simple solutions, and my plan – that I wasn’t looking at – needed an escape clause written in.

It’s my own fault. Excuses are symptoms of a deeper malaise. When I planned my book it was done with flexibility in mind. I even shifted my narrator from one character to the next, and the plan (with the flock of attendant spreadsheets) took it all. With inflexibility, and by ignoring good advice, I lost that golden period where a book has the gloss of ‘new release’ shining on it.

I’m confident about overcoming this shaky start, but I’ve made it hard for myself, and where’s the sense in that?

What lessons did you learn along the way when starting your own business?

Sheila Smith, Author, The Birthday Dragon

Daniel Smith, founder of social media marketing consultancy Propaganda House, joins us on the blog today. Daniel discusses the need for investment in a business idea and is keen to hear about your own experiences and thoughts. Welcome Daniel! Naomi

When you look at Successful Big Businesses it’s easy to think that’s how they’ve always been. On the contrary, every successful big business starts its life as an idea inside the excited mind of an entrepreneur. The biographies of countless successful business people will tell you that the trek between ‘idea’ and ‘successful business’ is a long and arduous one, not dissimilar to the treks of the early explorers who opened up undiscovered regions of the globe for future generations.

Following this analogy – many of these early explorers wouldn’t have been successful in their treks without the backing of investors to who provided the much needed funds for equipment, supplies, and support personal. And the same applies for a business idea.

No matter how good the concept, most businesses at some stage require outside investment to fully conceive and take their earnings to the next level. Take Facebook for example; just 7 years ago this was an idea inside the head of a pimply university student – skip forward and it now has 500 million users and is valued at over $50 billion! BUT, without initial seed capital Facebook may never have become what it is today – and heaven forbid, we might all be using ‘MySpace’ or even worse having ‘face to face’ social interaction instead..

Having a great idea and finding someone who believes your idea is great enough to put their hard earned on the line for are completely different things though. Couple this with the need to find an investor whose experience, skills and attitude will align neatly with those of the business founders and you’ve got a real challenge on your hands! But if Columbus could convince Queen Isabella to invest in his ambitious (and at the time considered impossible) voyages then there’s no reason it can’t happen for a comparatively less ambitious business idea; and it does every day.

As the owner of a Social Media startup looking for funds to take it to the next level, I’m interested to hear how others have taken their business from idea to a thriving enterprise; where did you find your seed capital; angel investor, family, colleague? Or maybe you grew your business organically, without seed capital? Either way I’d love to hear your story!

Daniel Smith, founder of Propaganda House

                                            What’s in a business name?

                                               More than you may think.

Here’s another post where we share our histories for common benefit.

Today we’re talking business names.

The object of this game is to learn how and why we named our businesses.

And whether these names have done all they should.

I’ll go first, then hand over to you.

Foundation & Empire

I got nicknamed Feisty for being inordinately enthusiastic about everything.

As I tired of 9 to 5 in Corporate Land, I fantasised about running my own show with my own rules.

One such rule was to call my business whatever the hell I wanted.

So it was with great pleasure that I registered The Feisty Empire on 8 July 1999.

I had no fears it had already been taken.

Nor that anyone would steal it.

In choosing my name, I embraced Feisty to symbolically kill off the Paul who was so miserable doing human resources work in automotive factories.

I added Empire to:

• Honour my classical education.
• Have little, inside, sole-trader jokes with myself.
• Give me a name I could grow into.

These puerile, self-indulgent motivations offered nothing to prospective clients.

Nor did my first logo:

                                                             Oh dear …

Ho Hum

Exposed to the chill winds of commerce, I quickly discovered my name and logo were … unhelpful.

Adam kindly sorted out my logo and added the brilliant Fighting Words tagline. Now my brand actually meant something to someone other than me. And so I pressed on.

The frisson I thought I’d feel at crusty accountants writing huge cheques to a firm with a funny name didn’t eventuate.

There were no huge cheques.

Instead, there were tiny jobs which took years to grow into loyal clients.

In setting up shop, I never realised I was swapping one boss for dozens. Nor that these bosses had more power and were more demanding than any I’d ever encountered.

They were, of course, my clients.

Too Late?

Having asked trusted advisors about my business name, I now realise many people find it ludicrous, aggressive, unprofessional or all three.

I strongly suspect this has cost me a great deal of revenue.

Yet, after 11 years of incessant promotion, I feel my brand and I have too much history to part ways.

I’ve tinkered with ‘normal’ names, but never with enthusiasm.

And each time that one-in-a-hundred client says, ‘I LOVE your business name!’ I think I am on the right track after all.

My services are very special, and so are my clients. So why not my name?

I could argue that anyone who doesn’t like it doesn’t deserve me.

But I’ve learnt the (very) hard way to discard such a dangerous, costly view.

So, I guess I’m succeeding despite my name. Earning repeat business from my skills and ethics.

Would I do it again? I don’t think so: not knowing what I do now.

Then again, if I knew then what I know now about business, I’d still be rotting and fretting in my old day job (if it still existed).

How about YOU?

1. What’s in your business name?
2. How did you choose it?
3. How has it helped?
4. How has it hindered?
5. Would you choose it again?

Gather round.

It’s time to play … Tune That Name!

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

                                                         I feel cagey.

Superannuation has been an odd venture for me.

I’ve charted several courses, without satisfaction.

Now I’m taking a violently different tack.

Will time and tide vanquish or vindicate?

Rolled gold

My first corporate employer had a ‘defined benefit’ fund.

From the instant I joined, I was worth $160K dead or retired. This grew around $10K a year – intoxicating stuff for a recent graduate.

When I decided to ditch my HR career, I was nearing $250K (a pretty penny in the 80s).

My boss begged me not to kill this goose by yanking my deposits, but I did.

How else was I going to fund my hand-drawn T-shirt and speculative fiction future?

Nothing like it

My $22K payout kept me warm for a year. Then I was zeroed by all accounts.

I had to get a ‘real’ job, fast.

Back in Corporate Land (this time with an ad agency) I joined a much-less-generous ‘accumulation’ fund.

My egg grew slowly as the years flew.

Flowing with the go

When I left to run The Feisty Empire, I was back up to $20K.

I put this in an industry-leading super scheme, which went on to triple my stake.

Alas, I’ve lately found this fund fond of female ornaments AND mines.

And I’m just not into those any more.

Greener pastures

So I’m tipping my fortune into a whack-job greenie offering.

We’re talking small, unproven, eco-friendly firms who must run an ethical gauntlet that’d make Bob Geldorf wince.

The risk is high, the volatility higher. It could all end in tears.

My financial advisor is bemused by my desire to ‘sleep straight in bed’.

He firmly believes Earth will still be habitable when I retire.

Yet, as the Gulf of Mexico burns, I’m happy with my choice.

How about you?

Super duper?

I believe super is very different for self-employed people (vs full-time staff).

I’m keen to hear your journeys, stories and decisions on this oft-neglected matter.

Or, given the state of world affairs, do you agree this issue may be academic?

Contributions taxed at 15%.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Bad hair and suspenders constitute no barrier to superior T-shirt design. They may, however, undermine marketing.

When I cashed in my super and went feral, the first thing I did was create T-shirts.

Their design, production and sale yielded many lessons whose pain far exceeded their value.

I reproduce them here, in case you or a loved one are mad enough to contemplate a similar path.

1.  Nobody cares if it’s local.

I spent weeks trying to source Australian-made blank garments. Even locally woven fabric would have satisfied my patriotic urge. But suppliers and vendors alike assured me that:

• The Australian textile industry was cactus.
• You couldn’t get a local product for love or money.
• Customers didn’t give a damn.

2.  Nobody cares if it’s original.

Even at peak capacity, with economies of scale fully leveraged, it took me at least 40 minutes to draw and colour each T-shirt.

No shop was willing to pay a price that reflected my labour. Indeed, no shop even twigged that my brilliant ‘1 of 1’ signature motif meant my designs were hand inked.

Compare that scenario to the 210 designs I’ve since created electronically.

3.  Nobody cares if it’s organic.

This was certainly the case in my day (15 years ago). I’m impressed to see that REMO, buoyed by his 45,000 enlightened custOMERs, has recently put his money where his mouth is.

Will people put their money where he is and support the necessarily higher prices of organic? I sincerely hope so.

4.  Consignment sucks.

Consignment means no care and no responsibility on the part of the shop.

From ice-cream-wielding kids to carefully-packed goods that never reach their destination, this method sounds great but isn’t.

And if your products do turn up and survive long enough to sell, the vendor keeps 40-60% of the take. Or, if you’re really unlucky, 100%.

5.  Women prefer fitted garments.

My small-sized ladies range was a complete failure as the garments were deemed unfashionably baggy. I, of course, had done no market research.

6.   Lack of research kills.

My lack of research was highly consistent. When I did take orders for fitted ladies’ tees, I bought blanks with no concept that my ink pens would snag and ruin the stretchy fabric.

7.  People like colour choices.

My edgy, arty, black-and-white-with-spot-colour pallet appealed to only a small fraction of the market.

This demographic chiefly comprised students with no money, who dreamed of making T-shirts.

Stocking the range needed to satisfy all customer desires was a logistical factorial colour wheel mind melt.

8.  Never pitch at lunch time.

The worst time to lob into a shop with an arm full of T-shirts is midday. This is when they’re busy with – wait for it – lunch time shoppers.

You’ll get short shrift, if you’re lucky. And no second chance.

9.  Have capacity and range.

After a hot, exhausting day hitting gift shops in Sydney, I finally met a lady who expressed great interest in my designs.

It was only after half an hour of friendly chatting that she realised my ‘samples’ were actually my ‘range’.

Christmas was coming. She wanted many units of multiple styles. Delivered the following week. I confessed that I was completely unprepared for her level of commercial interest. She was not amused.

10.  Keep a second string.

The worst thing you can do is burn all your bridges and throw yourself on the mercy of fate.

Though exciting and noble, such dramatics leave you entirely reliant on the success of your ‘big idea’.

Unless you hit pay dirt fast, you’ll start worrying about money. That kills creativity, which fires another torpedo into your dream boat.

So, even if it’s flipping vegieburgers, keep one reliable income source until the world recognises and rewards your incredible talent.

Paul Hassing    , Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire 

Today we welcome the talented Adam Finlay as our guest blogger. Adam’s been with us from the beginning, contributing eloquent and enlightened comments and teaching us all new words . We thought it was time he stepped out from behind the comments box and into the limelight, to tell us about why small business owners are artists in their own right.

When musician-turned-actor Glen Hansard accepted the 2008 Academy Award for Best Original Song (‘Falling Slowly’ from the film Once) he told the audience, and by extension the world I suppose, ‘This is amazing. Make art. Make art.’

Once, about a struggling Irish singer/songwriter, was made on a tiny budget and its critical success – and Hansard’s Oscar – were mighty unexpected; indeed, ‘amazing’.

How is this relevant to a cartoon of the Devil performing hellish (sorry) stand-up comedy to a damned (sorry!) miserable audience?

(This image is also the January cartoon for my 2010 Life on Earth Calendar.)

Well, my nascent small business creating cartoons for worldwide syndication is very much at the ‘Make art’ stage. My ideas haven’t won a Best Original Artwork Oscar yet, or whatever the cartooning equivalent of an Oscar is – in fact, they haven’t even turned a profit. That’s a bold revelation for a blog about succeeding in small business, and it’s a hard truth, if you consider the following timeline.

Life on Earth Cartoons began in 1999, when I saw a cartoon stuck on a friend’s fridge in Sydney and remarked, ‘That would be funnier if …’

My friend laughed and agreed. She then tolerated me as I disgorged a dozen more ideas quick smart. Inspiration came and went, but after a couple of years I had hundreds of rough sketches. So much so that a silly capacity for non-sequiteur started to become a real idea for a bigger project.

Because I draw like a brick (I just think the cartoons up) I had to find an artist who matched what I saw in my head. After four ‘false’ starts across four years I finally found the remarkably talented Tim Molloy, who brought to visual life all the ideas you’ll see in the gallery on the Life on Earth web site (and there’s plenty more in production).

As we slowly started to build a portfolio, I decided to publish a calendar, simply for the fun of putting some ideas out into the world. The first LOE calendar was published in 2007; this year’s calendar will be the fourth edition.

Apart from some modest sales, everything so far has been developmental. Time, energy, minor (but relatively significant) dollars. Seth Godin might call this process The Dip, where I’ve put in the time but the payoff is yet far. He may be right. Certainly I’ve invested plenty of emotional, temporal and financial energy into an already-10-year project.

Why?

I like my ideas. They make me smile. I like creating for the fun of it. I like having faith in my unique (silly, odd) perspective. It brings me focus and peace. It’s a commitment, even if only to saying ‘I will’, then doing as I say.

I think these are the qualities that fire small business; that keep us going through the long, difficult periods where success isn’t even on the radar. Where we’re just doing what we do because we like to make art.

So whatever your art is, make it.

Adam Finlay        , Life on Earth Cartoons

At Christmas, my wife* gave me an amazing gift. The beautiful, rust-proof aluminium name plate you see in the photo. I loved it the moment I unwrapped it.

This plate has since proven its worth beyond anything we imagined. Here’s how.

Postie

Within days of the plate going up, our postie (mail delivery officer) accosted me from his bike. He said he’d had several letters addressed to Empire House, and that he’d toured the suburb hunting for the ten-storey edifice our head office name implies. He was glad of the confirmation.

Clients

Traffic is busy in our one-way street. Visiting clients have remarked that seeing the plate on their first drive by assured them they were in the right spot. This freed them to concentrate on parking.

Neighbours

My renting neighbours change fast enough to constitute a minor marketing demographic. I always try to be welcoming. When I tell newcomers how to prevent their car windows being smashed by thieves, they invariably ask me to explain the plate. This has twice generated business leads.

Law

Registering a business in Victoria requires you to ‘hang your shingle’ outside your premises. I’d been meaning to do this for eight years. Now it’s sorted – in style!

Tax

The plate cost $198 (including GST). Fonnie also gave me the receipt. I was able to claim my own Christmas present as a tax deduction against Empire income. How cool was that?!

Pride

Every time I see the plate, I feel pride that I have a thriving business and satisfaction that I work from home. It’s a great mindset with which to enter my office and start the day.

So, if you need a gift idea for a business owner, throw this against the wall and see if it sticks!

* With extensive artistic and technical input from Adam Finlay. Excel Screenprinting made the item.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, The Feisty Empire

Contrary to TV nirvana, family affairs can be vexed. And when children choose different paths to their parents’, the relative thickness of blood doesn’t stint its flow. This has been a big issue for my small business. I’m keen to know if you think I’m a spoilt brat or part of a statistically relevant pack.

My decision to ditch a career that was killing me body and soul was greeted with stony family silence. There followed a salvo of pointed questions that left me doubtless as to the unpopularity of my choice. Pressing on regardless was a major breach of domestic protocol.

As I built my business over several years, the advice to go back to ‘the workforce’ was regular dinner fare. Finally, when I proudly announced that I’d doubled my former salary, the advice shifted from fiscal to spiritual. In summary:

Phase 1

How’s business?

A bit slow…

Hmm. Maybe you should give it away and get a real job.

Phase 2

How’s business?

Busy!

Hmm. Hope you’re not burning yourself out.

What I perceived as lack of support was described as devil’s advocacy and parental concern. Yet it consistently left me frustrated, deflated and angry. These feelings compounded when I learned (third hand) that my business success had been lauded (at length) to family and friends (in my absence).

I went crying to my mates, who had markedly different takes on the matter.

One reported that his dad had pooh-poohed everything he’d ever done. When he finally earned a company car, he was chided that it was an SL, not an SLX.

Another said that when a man has taught his son to hunt buffalo, it doesn’t do anyone any good (except the buffalo) for the son to be always looking back for approval.

I later watched an interview with a famous Australian chef. When his mother saw him showcased on Japanese TV, she thought he’d been arrested. She nearly had a heart attack, having no idea what he did, or how gifted he was.

Last week, after spending over a decade in Phases 1 and 2, I tried a bold, new tack:

Phase 3

How’s business?

Perfect! I have just the right amount of work coming in at exactly the right rate.

Hmm. Very good.

End of story. Praise at last! All I had to do was lie.

I’ve since quizzed my 4029 Twitter followers on this topic. Results have been mixed, so I’d very much like your view.

Paul Hassing, Founder & Senior Writer, www.thefeistyempire.com