I’ve never had the opportunity to go on a river trip, but I’m determined to try it soon.  Will I go by canoe or inner tube?  Will I tempt fate on the white water rapids?  Or will I hop onto a riverboat cruise and leave the navigation to the pros?

Thinking about my current endeavors, I’m tempted initially by the riverboat cruise.  Just show up, find a seat, make some friends, and it’s auto pilot from there.  Of course, that means relinquishing all control and going wherever the riverboat captain decides, and it means no leaving the boat once it’s underway.  Plus, once you’ve toured the boat and met some people, what else is there except sitting and watching the world go by?

I’ve always wanted to try the rapids.  What an adrenalin rush!  The scenery is gorgeous, your life and the welfare of those in the raft are literally in your hands, and between moments of relative calm are times of terrifying uncertainty.  And when you arrive safely at the end, what a feeling of accomplishment and bonding with the other folks in the raft!  I think I’d enjoy that — once.  And with a trained guide.  And with others in the boat with more experience than I have on white water rapids.  And with a guarantee, like at an amusement park, that all of the times that feel scary and exciting are in fact absolutely safe.

So that leaves cruising down the lazy river.  The inner tube sounds more comfortable and relaxing, but much harder to control the navigation.  So I guess the canoe is the best option for me.

I’m in my canoe by myself for the time being on a river I’ve never experienced, and it’s cloaked in thick, early morning fog.  I’ve spent some of my trip flowing smoothly, admiring the scenery and enjoying the characters I’ve met along the way.  I’ve also been waylaid by submerged logs, stuck on sandbars where I had to dig in and use all my strength to strain to pull my boat to deeper water.  It’s been an exhilarating journey, with times of loneliness, struggle and doubt.

With the current fog, it’s hard to tell where I am, where to paddle, and where the dangers lie.  Sometimes it feels like I’m moving backwards, and other times that I must be paddling upstream because I’m wearing out and not making much progress.  Just pulling in the oars doesn’t feel like the best option, but I’m not ready to swim to shore, either.

If you’re on this river with me, could you shout out?  Maybe if we continue to call back and forth to each other, we’ll find our way back to blue skies.  I’ll be listening for you!

That’s where the irony begins.

I•ro•ny |ˈīrənē; ˈiərnē|

1. The practice of planning a seminar about how to simplify your marketing through effective use of social media, and then marketing that seminar by adding too many complex layers of web/e-mail blast/shopping cart/PDF downloads that those seeking more information are turned off by annoying technical glitches.
2. The decision to leverage a reputation built over three years of hard work and relationship building to launch high quality workshops, and looking silly when the links don’t work.
3. Engaging the assistance of a valuable network to spread the word, and then crippling their ability to do so with confusing instructions and invalid links.
4. Being a communication expert who struggles to communicate about the one event about which I am most passionate

Now, before you go wagging your finger about my self-deprecation, I’m not done with my definition.

Most ironic — and valuable — is that in my effort to teach my colleagues an easier way to connect with their target market, I’ve perhaps learned the most valuable lessons.  Of course, that’s how it always works.  The teacher always learns more than the students if his or her ego will allow it.

So, instead of viewing these hurdles as signs to turn back, I see them instead as opportunities for growth, and for adding to my library of life experiences that I can transform into lessons for others.

If you’d like to know more about my Social Media for Small Business Seminar, you can check it out here.  Of course, if that link doesn’t work, you can download this PDF.  And if all else fails, you can smile and sing a little Alannis Morissette:

It’s like rain on your wedding day
It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid
It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take
Who would’ve thought … it figures

You set up a routine, you define your products, you bring in repeat customers, and you build relationships.  People sit around in your donut shop and laugh, read the paper, and relax, and you’re a part of all of it.

It’s the best of both worlds.  You’re spending time with your customers, getting to know them and enjoying the development of those relationships.  But you’re also clearly selling a product, one people don’t get to taste until they’ve handed you the cash.

Providing services for my clients seems so much more complicated than that, primarily because I want to focus on the relationships and not on the product sales.

If I owned a donut shop, none of my friends or colleagues I respect would come in, see the quality of my donuts, and ask for a dozen without expecting to pay for them before they left the shop.  They would enter the transaction fully understanding that they would pay me before they ever tasted a donut, and after looking around the shop full of happy customers and inhaling the enticing smell of warm cinnamon rolls, they’d hand over the money and never even think twice.

More importantly, I wouldn’t feel bad charging them.  (Ok, maybe I would feel bad charging my close friends… but I’ve got issues.)  I have a product.  They want the product.  They offer me the money I ask.  They get the product.

Things are much fuzzier with my writing clients, and 90% of that is my failure to set clear boundaries and expectations.

A friend asks me to look over a cover letter she’s sending out to prospective employers.  Do I charge her?

A client gets referred to me from a good friend and needs a project turned around quickly.  Do I ask for money up front?

Intellectually I know the answer to the second scenario, but I continue to operate on faith that if I deliver what I say I will and the client appreciates it, he or she will pay me promptly, just as they would for the donut.

I have to adjust my mindset and make a commitment to the growth of my business by treating the writing and editing services I provide like donuts.  I’m happy to provide them, and am ecstatic if you keep coming back because you like them and want to hang out, but the money gets figured out up front.  Once the expectations are in place, then both clients and I can go back to enjoying the relationship and benefiting from the product.

Now about those  hot, fresh donuts…  mmmmmmmmmmmm.