Tag Archives: Creative Dreams

from The Makearoo Dispatch: Miracles

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This is a story about how Makearoo came into being.

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On October 19, 2011, I was on the phone with my biz coach, Darla LeDoux. It was less than a week until my 44th birthday and we were on our last call of a six-month coaching program.

And we were both feeling frustrated.

I’d signed on with Darla to figure out a way to make freelancing more lucrative. If I could just pitch more often, set better income goals, get clearer on the types of markets I wanted to write for, etc., I’d be golden. The old “If I just try harder at that thing I think I need and am too scared to abandon so I can grow, maybe it’ll get better” chestnut. (This is a lot like trying to think your way out of depression or anxiety; without the right support to connect you to inner knowing, you’ll spend a lot of time chasing your tail and finding yourself standing in the same miserable spot over and over and over again.)

The mechanical, goal-setting, go-getter stuff wasn’t working, not due to laziness or stupidity, but because my heart wasn’t in it.

I was a writer who wasn’t writing.

I’d been writing for most of my life, and I felt like a failure. I felt like I’d let my family and my coach and myself down.

Darla said that she was damned if she was going to let me shrink away from my power and gifts. She told me to brainstorm a list of ways I could make money using my talents and experience, no matter how outlandish it seemed and regardless of whether it was lucrative. I was to call her and share my list in two days.

“A miracle will happen between now and then,” she added.

Are you rolling your eyes? I did.

I was a cynic for most of my adult life. The Scully (logical scientist) to everybody’s Mulder (believer in paranormal activity and alien life forms–any X-Files fans in the house?). I was always looking for “the tell,” the real deal, the man behind the curtain. I was raised by a parent who learned from her own parents to trust no one, that people will always let you down if you give them half a chance, and that most people are full of shit and only out for themselves. So a miracle? Please.

Deep down, I knew what she was getting at. It was time to pull out the stops and really think about how I want to spend my time. I wanted to remain self-employed and I wanted to keep making stuff, and I longed for community and connection. So I started a list, the top portion of which is in the image shared above. (Behold the beauty of Toni brainstorming! I still totally plan on writing Babies are Jerks, by the way.)

That idea at the top? That’s Camp Makearoo. It was the first thing on the list and the thing that scared me the most out of everything else I’d thought to do, because it felt too big and too close to my heart. I’d attended conferences, retreats, and tweetups and knew well the electricity, connection and insight gained from gathering among like-minded people to serve a common purpose. But lead one myself? Help people like me who wanted to connect with who they were and what they did best? Was I nuts?

For the first time, I did the totally illogical and unsafe-feeling thing and I went for it. After a lifetime of safe gigs reaching for low-hanging fruit and keeping myself from being seen by too wide of an audience, sheltered in a crusty coating of self-deprecating jokes and cynicism, I jumped into something totally new. Something that would require risk and vulnerability and putting myself out there and asking for help and learning an assload of new skills, like how to run a retreat and grow a coaching practice.

And it all came to me in two days, because I was tired of being frustrated and stuck and joyless in my work, and I was tired of being cynical and hating myself.

I was ready for a miracle, so it arrived. Funny how that works.

This is important: The miracle wasn’t the idea. It was my openness to the idea that I had mad skills and could apply them in ways that felt like home, like the work I was put here to do.

It’s a little more than a year later and we’re coming up on the second Camp Makearoo this May. This retreat is the PERFECT opportunity to bring your own list of big, bold, too-crazy-to-come-true, who-do-you-think-you-are dreams to this retreat. You know, the one you’d be too shy to post in a weekly newsletter so everyone could see the crazy shit you dream up? That list. Camp Makearoo is the ideal place to incubate an awesome idea that feels just a little bit scary and out of reach, but that you know in your heart of hearts you could do if you let yourself take the plunge because you want it more than you fear people hating it or pointing at you and laughing. Whether you’ve been writing or making stuff for years and want to evolve or you’re just starting out and wondering how in the heck you can make something on your dream list happen, this gathering is the place where miracles will arrive. You don’t even have to show up believing that to be true, but you might by the time you leave.

Are you ready? I’ll see you in May. (And I want to read your lists!)

Reminder: The important stuff always gets done.

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Don’t be fooled; googly eyes are a high priority.

The important stuff always gets done.

This phrase kept popping into my head as we packed up my mom’s home and moved her and my brother (an adult with Down Syndrome) into our home last weekend. In the weeks beforehand, I’d created a ridiculously long Mega-Ultimate-Humongo-Gigantor To Do List of Massive Proportions, and then spent time leading up to the move pretty much avoiding most of the tasks on that list until the absolute last minute, while also beating myself up for not doing everything perfectly and completely.

Sound familiar?

Once things got rolling, things I’d been avoiding got done in a fraction of time, even if (gasp!) imperfectly. I kept repeating my Moving Mantra: The important stuff always gets done.”

And it did.

It took more than a weekend to unpack everything. There are odds and ends that either need to find a permanent home at our place or to take up residence elsewhere. But the job got done and mom and bro are settled in. In fact, the wave of relief when we finally got them all under one roof was as enormous as it was unexpected.

I know many of you are dealing with the aftermath of the storm along the East Coast. (My heart goes out to you all, and those of you worrying over loved ones right now, too.) It’s stressful. It’s worrisome. It creates an entirely new to-do list, shrinking less important tasks for another day after home flood damage repairs are complete.

The important stuff always gets done.

When I broke my leg and dislocated my shoulder while pregnant with my middle son (who is 10 now), I couldn’t work for a few weeks, and I had to defer my student loans for a couple of months as a result (this was shortly before I started freelancing). Our bills still got paid. Family helped around the house, caring for my then-two-year-old oldest son and helping me get around. Somehow, everything that really needed to get done was accomplished, and what could wait, well, waited.

If you’ve ever had an entire family down with the flu, you know how an emergency can immediately and effectively shrink even the shortest of to do lists. Same goes for an important deadline that, by necessity, eclipses your typical work routine.

The important stuff always gets done.

In this week since my household grew from five to seven, I started feeling like I was going to disappear under the weight of all the care-giving, grocery shopping, and housekeeping–obligations I took on willingly as part of this deal. But when reality set in (along with what I can see now was an adjustment period that we’re all still experiencing), I worried about how I’d continue to grow Makearoo into the empire of awesome that I know it can be if I’m tending to the needs of two more people who count on me for help. Out of necessity, I’d set aside a large part of my work and personal time in order to make this move happen. As we settled in and unpacked and found our rhythm, I realized that my feelings of losing touch with my creative dreams and self were part of this adjustment period.

But it got me thinking. I’m no adrenaline junkie, but I realized this week that in order to grow something incredible, we have to live a little bit like we’re in crisis. Live like we’re dying, as the pop-cheesy-but-irresistibly-inspiring song that often propels me along the jogging path says. I mean this only as a means of ruthlessly shrinking those crazy to-do lists, which are so often built from perfectionism and/or obligation and/or habit rather than priorities aligned with purpose.

I saw this week that I can either let myself disappear under a wave of obligation and martyrdom, or I can make myself and my work a priority right alongside my family. Delegating tasks to everyone, hiring a cleaning service, setting clear boundaries related to work and personal space, and ruthlessly culling my to-do list so that the ways in which I spend my days reflect my highest priorities and dreams instead of someone else’s, or my own dreams, but muted. That includes fiction writing, by the way–something I willingly deferred while growing Makearoo, but needs to come back on the front burner again. But that’s a story for another post.

As I often mention, this is a process. Sometimes, a crisis or deadline or illness or other Big Life Thing takes over our lives for a bit, which can be cleansing in a way as we jettison the stuff that doesn’t matter in order to focus. Sometimes, we allow life to happen to us as we go along merrily (or not), adrift in a sea of other people’s needs and priorities. In both instances, course correcting and centering back to breathing life into our deepest dreams and highest purpose is essential. This takes practice, and it often requires repeating every once in a while, remembering that forward momentum — even when it feels like the tiniest of baby steps — adds up.

In the meantime: what can you eliminate or defer on your to-do list? Or is your to-do system working well for you? Tell me about how you get things that matter most to you done, crisis or no crisis.

The Makearoo Newsletter No. 16

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Feel it in your bones. Then leap.

Hello there, brave and beautiful weirdo!

Welcome new subscribers! ‘Weirdo’ is high praise in the Makearoo universe. Below you’ll find a special offer, inspiration, and a few fun ways to connect.

In the last Makearoo Newsletter, I executed what may be the lamest Internet launch in the history of, well, the Internet. I wrote about trusting our intuition and what it looks like as you learn to trust your gut (and yourself) over time and through experience. And at the end, I sorta-kinda, well shucks, you know, maybe might have made a tiny, quiet mention of my new offerings as a creativity coach. I softballed it, and the response was about as enthusiastic as you’d expect from such a flaccid effort. (Isn’t ‘flaccid’ the greatest word? Are you giggling too? Just me?)

Let’s fix that lame launch with a special offer.

The truth is, I need your help. Chances are, you need mine, too.So let’s help each other out. A coaching practice grows by word of mouth, particularly from people who have worked with a coach personally. It also grows from, you know, having actual clients with cherished dreams ready to take flight. I’d love the opportunity to help you move forward with a deeply held creative dream that you’ve been stalling on for whatever reason:

  • Maybe you feel scared to even say it out loud to another human being (“I’m ready to finish that screenplay I started before having kids;” “I want to make a great living as a photographer.”).
  • Maybe you started something but feel stuck for some reason (“I need to promote my new Etsy shop but don’t ‘get’ social media;” “I got all excited at first and a few weeks in, I just lost my momentum and I don’t know why.”)
  • Or perhaps you finished something (“I’ve recorded the first few eps of an awesome podcast but have no idea how to get the word out;” “I actually typed the words ‘The End’ on my novel, but have no clue about finding an agent and doubt one would take me on anyway.”).

I’d like to offer what I’m calling The Dream Launcher coaching sessions, an idea inspired by two Kates (Hanley, aka Ms. Mind Body and Swoboda, aka Kate Courageous), with deep gratitude.Here’s what you get when you sign on to leap forward with your creative dream in a Dream Launcher Coaching Session:

  • Pre-work designed to hone in on your goals
  • Three 30-minute weekly coaching sessions
  • Weekly homework via email.
  • 33% off any one other Makearoo offering–including Camp Makearoo!
All for a one-time price of $99.

I’m holding space on my calendar for NINE of these sessions on a first-come, first served basis. Email me to sign up. Ask questions. Kick the tires a bit. Schedule a FREE 30-minute Makearoo Mini-Session (a ‘get to know you’ call to see if we’re a good fit).

Decide whether for three weeks and less than a Benjamin, clarity, progress and continued momentum toward achieving your dream is worthwhile.

You know what to do. Get in touch to get started.

A few key things inspired me to make my coaching practice launch way less lame. This week, a friend told me that he found the courage to secure a dream job based on what I’d written in a newsletter where I shared why I quit freelancing earlier this year. I shared a link to a commencement speech by Denzel Washington where he advises against having a fallback plan: “I don’t want to fall back on anything, except my faith. I want to fall forward. At least I figure that way I’ll see what I’m about to hit.”

I did make a bold move in ditching my day job to launch and grow Makearoo–a move I still stand by, especially given the increased familial needs that arose this year in the wake of my dad’s passing. When a friend recently suggested that I consider taking on some side projects to generate more income, I nodded my head at first, thinking maybe I should be checking Craigslist for communications gigs. Moments later, I walked into my office and I felt it in my body from head to toe: “No. That is not my path any more. I don’t need a safety net, I don’t need a backup plan, I just need to own my gifts and share them with the world.” Talk about instinct!

That moment made me realize that I haven’t been falling forward, or leaping ahead, so much as taking tiny little tiptoe motions, hoping people would show up and get as excited about doing their best creative work as I am. And I think it’s because I’ve been clinging to some old ways of thinking that filtered down into my body as old ways of being. Thoughts like “Maybe I should be checking Craigslist or dusting off my resume” sat beside “People won’t pay for coaching; they think it’s too airy-fairy” and “Most people think coaching is a joke, or that it isn’t a ‘real’ job” and “Who would pay me to help them when I’m still so much a work in progress?”

But in that moment in my office I realized that I hadn’t been feeling my dreams for Makearoo in my bones. I’d been letting messaging from external sources–well-meaning family, friends, and a society that relies on fallback plans more than daring ones–dictate how I run my business. And that sort of thinking kept both my business and me small. I’ve spent the last couple of years paying very close attention to a handful of renegades and personal heroes like Chris Guillebeau, Danielle LaPorte, Andrea Scher, Kate Swoboda, Merlin Mann, and Darla LeDoux, who are making some seriously epic shit happen in spite of the odds and in the midst of a poor economy–all while shredding or reweaving their safety nets. I have more than one friend (and personal hero) who quit conventional work or jumped off a safety net to focus on their passions–from parenting and lifestyle blogger Meagan Francis to the new twists in Kate Hanley’s Ms. Mindbody biz to my friend Tee Iseminger, who ditched a thriving copywriting career to shine a laser-beam focus on her dream of writing fiction full-time. Trust me when I say these lists of bold humans is not exhaustive.

I’d assumed all along that I was one of these renegades, but I wasn’t acting like it. I didn’t believe it could be done. I didn’t feel it in my bones. My written and spoken words were living one way, but my spirit was still stuck in an old space, wheels spinning in the same old muddy ruts. And yet, all around me, evidence to the contrary was positively flourishing. If conferences, retreats, and coaching didn’t sell in a bad economy, then the World Domination Summit wouldn’t have sold out in under 20 minutes, people wouldn’t be cramming book stores to meet Chris and Danielle on their book tours, Andrea’s online classes wouldn’t fill up, Kate and Darla’s coaching practices would shut their virtual doors, and those friends I mentioned would all be polishing off their resumes, readying to re-enter the traditional workforce. And yet, in spite of a poor economy and scads of resources reminding us of how tough things are ‘out there’ in the world, the exact opposite is happening for people who are actually out there making things happen.

The coolest thing I’ve learned through all of this is that while success requires more than belief (i.e., believing you’re as great as your heroes doesn’t immediately fill your bank account–it requires a combination of bold action and consistent effort), you will get absolutely nowhere without that belief.

And so here I am, boldly offering my services as a guiding light, soft place to fall, kick in the pants, and insightful creative, asking you to help grow Makearoo while also allowing your dreams to take root and thrive. Ripple effect. Win-win. This is messaging we can all get behind. Email me to get started on launching your dream. Three weeks to launch your dream. $99. Boom. Let’s do this.

How we spend our days

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Feet in a mountain stream = my happy place

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” –Annie Dillard

I’m back from six days in Taos, New Mexico with some dear friends. Even though I’m away from daily distractions and obligations, I never write during Fred (my girlfriends’ getaway–read more about it here). This year, more than ever, I needed to simply be. I did take some marvelous photos, however. This year, we received marching orders from one of our tribe: “Don’t be sad. Have fun.” Mission accomplished–mostly. We were still sad, but we also made ample room for laughter–that kind of giggling where you remember exactly where all of your abdominal muscles reside. The inside jokes, the camaraderie, the love for Freddies who were both present and far away, never for a moment doubting how very blessed we are to have found each other.

Now that we’re back home, I’ve been thinking about that Annie Dillard quote:

How do you spend your days? Do you worry, do you judge, are you mistrustful, are you harsh? Or are you carefree, loving, generous? Maybe you’re all of the above. I know I am, some days.

Do you fritter away moments, checking this and clicking that, hitting refresh or flipping through channels or wandering aisles?

I do know that expecting to one day have all of the perfect systems in place and everything running according to plan is an illusion. Days are meant to be messy, interrupted, and full of unexpected irritants and moments of wonder. Seth Godin helped me see this in one of his trademark pithy statements:

There’s nothing wrong with having a plan.

Plans are great.

But missions are better. Missions survive when plans fail, and plans almost always fail.

I also know that we must work to get out of our own way in order to focus on our most deeply held priorities and dreams. I think the ‘simplicity’ and ‘balance’ we crave starts here, at the source, with those priorities, not the other way around. You can set up elaborate systems and structures and plans and rewards and punishments, but if you’re heart’s not in it, everything will slide back to square one. But if you do what I call ‘leading with joy,’ the system forms itself around the dream. The ease follows from that: You know who you are and why you are here and what needs doing. The rest is static, best left ignored.

More this week, along with another newsletter. Not yet a subscriber? Let’s fix that right now. Meanwhile, I’d love to hear how you spend your days, and what you think about systems vs. joy.

Six years

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(Image by Michele Catalano, shared with permission.) How would it feel to type the words The End on a super-dreamy project

Have you thought about the next six years of your life? Could you achieve a deeply cherished creative accomplishment in a six-year period? If not, how much time do you need? And what are you waiting for?

This number may seem arbitrary, but bear with me.

Six years.

Last week, my friend Michele finished the first draft of a novel. She wrote about it here and here (take the time to click over and read about her process and feelings upon completion), and is now eyebrows-deep into the editing process while shopping for an agent. It took six years to get to this point, starting this story a few months before beginning a long-distance relationship that’s thriving under one roof today, and also working a full-time job while raising two kids and becoming a Twitter comedy superstar.

Six years.

It took six years for Michele to type the words ‘The End,’ but she did it. And she did it without giving up. Were there pauses? Sure. Were there doubts? Of course. But underneath it all was a quiet, steady, and unwavering persistence. She kept going even while the other moving parts of her life and the lives of her loved ones kept going.

Reading her story made me think: How have you spent the last six years of your life, and how do you want the next six to go?

Here’s my response to get you thinking:

How I’ve spent the last six years of my life: Parenting three sons, who were ages 7, 4, and 2 (holy cow!) six years ago, along with Daniel, my best friend and partner in crime. I became secure in the ways in which we choose to parent, totally stepping out of any debates or debacles or competitive streaks about how others choose to parent. We also learned that we’re pretty good at this whole ‘commuter marriage’ thing, probably because we had a solid foundation as partners and parents to our sons before Daniel took this current job.

I totally changed my attitude about “good” and “bad” foods, fitness, and my ability to work out despite an old injury. I learned that, despite being told that “walking isn’t the best thing for you” and that I’d need an ankle replacement and to “try to make it to age 50″ that my ankle is stable and looks great and does not require surgery. Also: walking is the best thing for me! (See also: bicycling). I did the cycling portion of a sprint triathlon with two awesome friends, riding 14 miles in under an hour, including stopping to help a fallen cyclist. I lost 25 pounds (and counting).

I discovered I love writing fiction and am pretty great at dialogue, both after age 40. I started but did not finish three novels.

I wrote some of my favorite outdoor-centric family travel articles (dogsledding, rock climbing, and urban kayaking, to name a few) before leaving freelance writing at the beginning of this year. I experienced writer’s block before I left writing.

I found a bunch of friends like Michele (one of my first Twitter pals, actually) through telling jokes on Twitter, which became a shout-out one night about gathering some local hilarious nerds in the Chicago area, which became the Chicago(ish) tweetup, (aka by its hashtag CHSH). I think we had 200 people attend our last event, which meets every April and sometimes in the summer/fall.

I started a shit-ton of professional projects (corporate copywriting, a blog for outdoor enthusiasts, a family travel blog, a blog about crime fiction, TV, and movies), gave them a half-assed effort and abandoned each of them after a few months.

I took a class on dreaming big called Mondo Beyondo and planted the seeds for Makearoo. I hired a career coach who helped me figure myself out emotionally, which enabled me to figure myself out professionally. I’ve had the most staying power with Makearoo than anything else besides freelance writing, which I did for a decade, and fiction writing, which I spent several feverish months pursuing, as if possessed.

I stopped hating myself. I stopped leading with fear and shame. I learned to take risks. I learned I’d rather be happy than right–most of the time, anyway (old habits, yada yada).

I see a few recurring themes here: family, self acceptance, storytelling and creating community.

How I want the next six years to go: I’m on a mission to build a Makearoo empire — retreats, workshops, private coaching, and at least one book. Maybe a podcast. I’m such a podcaster wannabe. I will apply my knowledge of how to launch things in phases rather than trying to do it all at once. I’m not sure where this path will lead, but I know I’m pursuing this goal with passion and in spite of the occasional bouts of self doubt and fear. My end result? To bust the myth of the ‘starving artist waiting to be discovered’ for as many people as humanly possible (full disclosure: myself included).

Due to a weird confluence of events over the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve finally circled around to the novel I was meant to write (more on how I spent my time figuring that out later this week). So really, at least one book tour is in store for me. Just typing that out gets me all kinds of excited (ahem. settle down, boys and girls).

I’d like to be debt free (through coaching, I released my shame over accruing debt; now it’s time to be a rock star storyteller and pay those suckas off!).

In six years my kids will be 19 (gulp), 16 (yikes), and 14 (hold me). I’m hoping to be a guiding light and source of silliness as my teen fellas grow into young men, and I’d love for our family to remain close despite the naysayers who insist teens and parents don’t mix. I’d love for the combination of two households that’s about to happen in my family to benefit and enrich all of our lives. I’m trusting that there will be some bumps in the road but also some great memories are there, waiting to happen.

There will be way more family travel and way less worrying. I have had this crazy dream of cycling across the country, but I do not want to leave my kids for that long of a period; now I’m trying to conjure a way to do it together, even if it’s Dan and the kids driving around in an RV as my support team. Maybe I could combine it with some sort of crazy Makearoo mission to talk to some of you creative dreamers. Who knows where that path will lead. What I do know is that every day, I will give thanks and I will love my life, my tribe, and my work.

Your turn. How have you spent the last six years of your life, and how do you want the next six to go? Do you see any recurring themes or patterns in your past or your future dreams? Please be gentle with yourself in answering these questions; if your life hasn’t gone the way you’d hoped, apply forgiveness and kindness as needed. Beating yourself up isn’t a great way to achieve dreams, in my experience. Loving yourself? Being your biggest cheerleader? Pretty darned effective.Post your response in a comment on the blog or in a blog/Tumblr post–just don’t forget to comment with a link so we can see your responses!

Over the next couple of weeks–as long as it takes–I’m going to write about a few aspects of time as they relate to those of us who make cool stuff. It doesn’t matter if you make cool stuff for a living, are working toward something with purpose on the side, are a hobbyist, or are just starting to explore a creative pursuit. If you have any questions about anything covered here or would like to suggest a topic, post a comment or get in touch.

Based on my own research, experiences, and conversations with dozens of creative spirits, I’m also developing a Makearoo Manifesto, with content and some fun ways to interact based on that.

Finally, I’ve set a goal to sell 30 tickets to Camp Makearoo next May. I know that seems like a long way off, but I’d love to see you there. I’ve heard from several people that they are planning on attending the next Camp; let’s talk about how you’re going to make that happen. One topic I’ll cover in the next couple of weeks is the value of taking time just for you to focus on your creative projects, dreams, and goals in a setting that nurtures being as weird as you need to be and dreaming big while making big plans. Camp Makearoo is one way of doing just that.

I look forward to reading your responses to this post; huge thanks and inappropriately long hugs to Michele for inspiring it, and the discussions about time we’ll be having over the next couple of weeks.

Camp Makearoo Recap: “I loved every minute.”

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Creative souls communing at the Starline Gallery in Harvard, Illinois
Creative souls communing for an inspiring talk and tour at the Starline Gallery in Harvard, Illinois

Hello there, brave and beautiful weirdo! This is a repost of the 12th Makearoo Newsletter here on the blog.

FYI, in my world, ‘weirdo’ is high praise and one of the many perks of being a creative person. Tapping into our unique weirdness is one essential element of producing our best creative work. In fact, I have an upcoming e-course on this very topic, called Dare to be Weird, designed to help creative people embrace what makes them unique instead of assuming your quirks, work habits, and gifts are bizarre flaws to keep deeply hidden out of fear of judgment and/or rejection. Interested? Email me for more info and to sign up if you’re an early bird sort of person.

Camp Makearoo Recap
There are probably dozens of things that could have kept Camp Makearoo from happening. All of them relied upon me quitting. As I wrote on the blog before camp, I didn’t come anywhere close to filling seats like I’d hoped to when starting out, and I could have counted that a failure. I didn’t. My parents experienced a major health crisis two weeks before camp. I helped where I could, had a few healthy cries, and kept planning. I experienced about two dozen technical/logistical/financial glitches–including during the morning of Day 1–and I carried on in spite of them. A guest dropped out a couple of days before the event, deferring her attendance for a future camp. I kept working.

I could have quit. I could have let any one of those things stop me. But I had this idea for a gathering of weirdos that I couldn’t let go of, and I had three talented creative people with big hearts and even bigger dreams who were excited to attend this event. Giving up wasn’t even on my radar. And when I woke on May 18th, I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life–including my wedding day. Speaking of weddings, my awesome husband Daniel–the biggest supporter of my creative work for the past 15 years–was on hand as the Camp Makearoo AV Guy, packing up computer and camera gear and gift bags for our guests and speakers so we could hit the road. I was nervous, but it was a great kind of nervous, if that makes any sense. The right kind of nervous. I’d released any attachments to perfection or ‘wowing’ anyone, deciding I was going to show up ready to serve and share with the people who were every bit as thrilled to be there as I was.


Packed and ready to lead with joy!


View of the harbor on Lake Geneva from The Abbey Resort


Cozy rooms for working on your creative projects throughout the weekend

Dr. Dawn Levitan talks about how relationships can shift when we head in the direction of our dreams.
Dr. Dawn Levitan of LifeScopes Coaching talks relationship shifts and healthy self-talk for creatives

I don’t think the weekend could have gone better. The only things I was lacking were a stylist (as you can see from all the beige in our gathering space!) and an event photographer. Lesson learned for next time: There will be color and fun in the Camp Makearoo environment! Ban the Beige!Another lesson learned: I am a one woman force of nature, but I can’t do it all. I’m a decent photographer, but I knew ahead of time that I’d be 100% focused on my guests and keeping Camp Makearoo running smoothly. So I set up my camera in the back of the room and asked my husband to grab some shots for me, because I knew I couldn’t be present in that sort of storytelling way during camp. I also set an intention to have an event photographer on hand for all future Camp Makearoo events so I won’t have to worry about capturing every moment of the weekend.


Mandy Page of Bold Types Coaching gets to the heart of our secret knowledge and how to tap into that creative power

Other than those two logistical issues which, despite their importance to me, did nothing to impede the quality of Camp Makearoo, the rest of the weekend was incredible. The people who attended were insightful, eager to make room in their lives to pursue their creative dreams, candid about their gifts, hopes and fears, and incredibly and uniquely talented in a variety of media (sewing, baking, interior design, writing, graphic design, etc.) The people who facilitated camp with me were just as talented, energetic, and eager to help our guests–we even had financial freedom coach Ginny Victory reach out to us via Skype (no technical glitches there, woo hoo!) and exclusive videos containing simple things you can do at your desk to either wake up or stay connected to Source from Ms. Mindbody Kate Hanley. It was so fun seeing the connections made between speakers and guests, and insights and ‘Aha! moments’ popping like flash bulbs at the Oscars. One guest remarked that she loved the total absence of ‘the guru thing,’ how each of us at Camp Makearoo–guests and speakers–was striving and working through our own stuff and there were no ‘hands-off’ expert types who floated above it all. We were all connected, regardless of where we were on our individual paths. That’s powerful stuff.


A Skype talk about money mindsets from Ginny Victory

I’ll give a brief recap of the schedule: Day one took a multidisciplinary approach, with guides tackling different facets of creative work (relationships, mind-body, blocks, owning your unique weirdness, money mindsets). Day two featured one-on-one sessions with our experts on topics important to our guests and a discussion of spreading the word about your awesome stuff without feeling like a douchebag. (This is where I’ll share one of my favorite moments: I made some kind of smart remark and one guest leaned over to another and said, with total affection and I suspect a hint of admiration: “She really has no filter whatsoever.” It’s funny because it’s true.) We then took an afternoon pause to rejuvenate or work on our creative projects and ended with a group dinner at The Abbey.


Blissfully perfect spring weather all weekend meant al fresco lunch and walks along the lake during down times(That’s my handsome AV guy, aka husband there on the far right)

We regrouped in the lobby early on the morning of day three for a super-secret excursion–a quick drive south to Harvard, Illinois for a talk and exclusive tour of the Starline Gallery by photographer, teacher, and marketing whirlwind Nancy Merkling. Nancy talked about her own creative process as a photographer (including resisting the classic line “it’s a great hobby, but . . . ” as she crafted a thriving career). We also discussed the gifts inherent in rejection, and why she started a monthly gallery event at the Starline based on community (no stuffy inner circles), freshness (new art each month) and fun (live music, Shakespeare plays in the elevator–yes, really–and wine paired with tasty eats) that’s grown beyond her wildest imaginings. She built this event and people from all around came to this tiny farm community way out on the outskirts of the Chicago area, despite the protests of the usual gang of naysayers who appear seemingly out of nowhere when someone announces an ambitious project.The takeaway: Hold the belief, execute it with smarts, heart, and fun, and people will pay attention–all things I believe with my heart and soul.

Next, we toured the entire Starline Warehouse, where they’re renovating to create more event space (including a chapel and bridal suite), galleries, an Internet cafe, and a full service, ‘no reservations’ restaurant. There were tons of photo opps as we walked through the bones of this enormous old factory, once home to a farm equipment manufacturer that was saved from demolition a decade ago by local entrepreneur and visionary Orrin Kinney. The combination of Nancy’s energetic talk and exploring the renovations in progress were both uniquely inspiring, and everyone had their cameras out and creative antennae extended–the perfect field trip for weirdos!


One of the hidden gems at the Starline – a central atrium maintained by an artist/landscaper who rents studio space at the gallery


Exploring the Starline Gallery renovations — what a gorgeous space!


Chapel organ installation-in-progress

We ended our last day together with a Camp Makearoo Gallery Showing. I’d snagged a sunny conference room overlooking the harbor, we ordered lunch (exploring warehouse/gallery renovations builds up an appetite!), and each guest (and speaker!) shared something they had created, talked a bit about the process of making it, and explained why it was awesome. I think getting to know each other over those three days made the sharing of our work that much more powerful. Some people shared their chosen works for the first time ever, and realized how vital it is to open up and share in an environment of trust. It was a powerful precursor to opening up and sharing our work with the world. And I think that ties into the personal and personalized marketing perspective I believe works so well for creatives and really any indie biz–when you have a sense of the human being that made the cool thing you’re itching to buy, you feel that much better about spending your money. You know you’re part of a cycle of good things.


A brave and beautiful Camp Makearoo guest shows some of his artwork during the Gallery Showing

All around, this was one of the very best experiences of my life and I had a blast from start to finish.We all learned so much. We discovered the inherent value in being in a room with people who are either in the same place in their creative journey or who are a bit further along, having busted through barriers to reach a place of joyful productivity. We also reveled in the mad energy of sharing our work with and gaining inspiration from our tribe–because creatives share many common traits, regardless of our chosen media. This idea was at the heart of Camp Makearoo from the outset–that just hanging with fellow creatives brings myriad benefits–and I was thrilled to actually experience what I already knew was true.We discovered that ‘talent is the least of our problems’ and that knowing you can make cool shit isn’t the same thing as actually making it and sharing it with the world in ways that feel authentic to us. We also learned the importance of going back and repeating that process over and over again, leading with joy and laughter because suffering for our art is no way to live or work.

And we began transforming our money stories, starting with forgiveness for our past money mistakes (because guess what? We’ve all made them!), new insights into smart risks (including taking on debt in some cases) and big, bold plans to earn enough to come out on top, because I am on a mission to bust the starving artist myth (and the suffering artist one while I’m at it), and I aim to bring all of you brave and beautiful weirdos with me in reshaping what’s possible for creatives.

Finally, the subject line of this newsletter is an actual quote from one of the guests at Camp Makearoo. We wrapped up the Gallery Showing, feeling invigorated and inspired by all of the incredible work produced by everyone in that room, but also sad because it was time to say good-bye. One guest walked up to me and said “I enjoyed every minute.” I really can’t ask for more than that, and I’m thrilled to have created the space to make that happen, knowing that the participation, insight, and honesty of our guests also helped make Camp Makearoo such a memorable and enjoyable experience.

If you’re reading this and thinking “Hey, I want some of that!” I’ve got great news for you:

A SUPER-AWESOME ANNOUNCEMENT!

The next Camp Makearoo will be October 19-21st at The Abbey Resort.

Yep, we liked the venue so much we decided to stay. As one guest put it, “You pull into the resort and just immediately feel relaxed.” I’ve chosen another ideal time of year for this event as the leaves are turning colors and the days are warm and sunny enough for a lakeside hike or stroll.

Are you ready to experience the power and magic that gathering with fellow creatives can bring?
Are you longing for more from your creative work and hungry to learn how to break past your biggest barriers?
Do you like to laugh and enjoy beautiful surroundings?
Are you ready to make your uniquely cool stuff and share it with the world in ways that feel authentic to you?
Do you want to help us bust the myth of the starving, solitary creative who must suffer for his/her art while waiting to be discovered?
It’s time to stop reading about Camp Makearoo and chart a course to get yourself there!

Register and grab your room, and get ready to rock your creative world!

And as always, Email me if you have any questions. I’ll be doing a couples/bring-a-pal discount oand referral bonuses, too!

Is Pursuing Your Creative Dreams an Indulgence?

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Do you believe we each have a purpose in life? Maybe several? I do. But I didn’t always believe this.

A couple of years ago, my freelance writer’s block was in full swing. I wasn’t willing to acknowledge it consciously yet, but my pursuit of new gigs was stalling and the joy in my work had evaporated. A family medical crisis took my time and energy at the tail end of the year, and a big freelance project I’d worked on nearly ended in disaster a few weeks after that. Nothing about work felt right.

One night, I had an intense dream about being stranded on an island with a dangerously good looking guy. I woke up and started writing their story (the woman in the dream was me, but she wasn’t). These people literally began conversing in my head. I had no idea who they were or what they were ultimately doing, but I just knew I had to follow their story. I didn’t think about it at all, I just did it, because I knew deep down that I had to. 60,000 words later, another character popped—no, given her personality, it was more like ‘barged’—into my head (I was awake this time). I followed her story for about 60,000 words, too. These characters were living, breathing, talking, joking, loving, abusive, dark, connected—real. The only way I can describe how I felt at the time was ‘conduit.’

I spent every spare moment I had (learning in the process that we have way more spare moments than we think) writing fiction. I wrote in the mornings before the kids woke. I wrote instead of doing housework. I wrote instead of doing freelance work. I wrote in the evenings. I wrote while my husband watched football. I talked about my stories to anyone who would listen. I was completely invigorated, as if every molecule in my body was vibrating at a higher frequency. This is how joy feels, I knew. I also knew I’d found ‘home’ creatively. Finally. One afternoon, I was working out a plot point in my head while heading to the store with a friend. We browsed Bath and Body works for a good thirty minutes and made our purchases when I realized I didn’t have my car keys. We headed outside and discovered I’d left them in the car. With the car unlocked. And the engine running.

I was a woman possessed. I was a fiction writer. At age 40. And I’d never, ever experienced more joy writing (nor have I since).

So what did I do with my new found gift for storytelling, for dialogue, for world-building?

I quietly set it aside. For a couple of years.

It wasn’t practical to write fiction. Fiction wouldn’t pay my mortgage. Or my law school loan. Or my credit card bills. Writing fiction wouldn’t put braces on my kids’ teeth. Writing and actually selling a novel was an indulgence I needed to sideline while I pursued ‘real’ writing, which to me meant ‘paid professional gigs telling stories for other people in their style, for their purposes, and on their terms.’

There were several problems with my approach. For one, there was no longer any joy or even satisfaction in that sort of writing for me. I know writers who are freelancing rock stars; they love their work and they make a great living. I did okay and achieved many milestones I’m quite proud of, but I never really rocked it as a magazine writer because I wasn’t meant to tell other people’s stories. Because my stubborn conscious mind was stuck in practical mode, it took my own brain to trick me into seeing what was not only possible for me as a writer, but beautiful and fun and easy and joyful. And my stubborn conscious mind balked. Work isn’t supposed to be fun or easy or joyful; maybe sometimes. But it shouldn’t feel like you’re comfortable in your own skin. That’s for vacation and free time. It took a couple of years of struggling and misery and taking the leap to hire a career coach before I could finally take a deep breath and tell my conscious mind to suck it.

Our society tells us that it is self-indulgent to believe with my whole heart that my stories are worth telling (there’s that word again: indulgence). It kicks up all sorts of “Who do you think you are?” and “What makes you so special?” stuff.

It brings up “Hmph. Maybe YOU have time to write fiction because [blah-blah-blah-bluster-sputter-cough-excuse-why-I-can-and-you-can’t], but I’ve got bills to pay!” stuff.

It invites “Do you realize the long odds on getting published, let alone earning good money writing fiction?” conversations in our heads and from well-meaning family/friends/colleagues/acquaintances.

It leaves me vulnerable to questions like, “Well, where’s your novel? Where can I buy it, huh, Dreamy McDreamypants? You haven’t sold one so who are you to talk about realizing dreams?”

It attracts thoughts like “We can’t always love our work” and “We can’t be happy all the time.”

Most important, it also opens the door to: “Holy shit. I’ve named my dream, and now I actually have to do something about it.” I think this is the biggest, scariest troll hiding under our bridges. There is infinite potential in deferred dreams. There are no messes, mistakes, or missteps.

It can be terrifying to open up to trust that you can pursue your creative dreams. It is for me every day. There are a million reasons, justifications, and excuses for refusing to dive without first knowing how deep the water is.

But here’s the thing: What if you never pursue those dreams? What if you secretly know, way down inside, in the places where your most deeply held dreams live, who you were meant to be, but you refuse to take any concrete steps toward becoming that person? And what’s stopping you?

It’s this sort of inner turmoil swirling around our conscious mind’s elaborate bullshit factory that led me to start this site and Camp Makearoo. (I have a whole other entry to write about how I know that Makearoo is the absolute perfect work for me, in addition to writing fiction.)

I know it costs money to attend. It requires stepping up and saying, “My dreams are worth the time and expense.” I know that’s terrifying for some—maybe many—of you, and it requires sacrifices and shuttling schedules and listening to naysayers telling you that it’s an indulgence when there’s always work to be done and more practical dreams to chase around. And here’s the thing: there’s always work to be done on your dreams. But if you don’t take any steps toward them, that’s what they’ll remain: unformed, gauzy, and unrealized. So I’ll ask again: What’s stopping you from pursuing your creative dreams, and how can I help you get started?