Well, home as in mentally home, yes. But not physically home.

In fact, leaving home for this “working vacation” may be the best thing I’ve done in a long time. Not that the grandmas didn’t pack their unmentionables kicking and screaming.

Grandma D: Well, David, I’m fairly certain a road trip is not for me. I would much rather fly.

Grandma K: It’s hot in Arizona.

Me: Yeah. Um, you know you two don’t have to go, right? You can stay here and look after Wicky.

Grandma K: What if you get scared before your workshop? You could throw up.

Me: Grandma, I have to do this. People are waiting for me. I can deal with scared, but not flaking out.

Grandma D: There had better be a place to stop along the road. I am going to pick flowers for my book.

Grandma K: It’s hot in Arizona.

Grandma D: Is that a Volvo? It looks old. Did you have the oil changed?

Me: Please get in the car. We are doing this.

We’ve been in Phoenix for two weeks now. Here’s the lowdown.

The People

Oh my god. The people. The People have been The Awesome.

Besides seeing (and staying with) family, I’ve met some great people here. The folks who attended my workshop were insightful, intelligent, and incredibly… nice. I had the privilege of sharing lunch with a few of them afterwards, where the workshop conversations continued – to my amazement. I did my best to chew with my mouth closed. They deserved at least that much.

Today I had cawfee talk with Victoria Brouhard (@victoriashmoria on Twitter). We just fell into conversation and had a great time. She’s one of the most unassuming, natural people I’ve ever met. I can see why her clients love working with her.

Last week I had breakfasty-type stuff with Brenda and Burt of Newhouse Studios. We could have talked all day and they introduced me to other cool people every 10 minutes. These people know the meaning of community. They’re awesome and I hope I get to return their hospitality someday.

Then there was Joe, Bobby, Stephanie, Lisa, Charlene, Noah… wow.

If there’s only one advantage of going mobile for a while, it’s meeting amazing new people. And the trip isn’t over yet.

The Travel

Driving from Portland to Phoenix is a long haul. Add a toddler and it’s… longer.

It’s not his fault. The little dude is made to run, jump, and play. He is not wired to sit strapped in a padded seat for 5-hour stretches. Neither am I, but I know why we’re doing this. This two-year old, he is a champ.

So we stopped more often than we planned through California. Not that I minded. California and I have been best pals since 1982. We drove by our old home and our old hangout and breathed heavy sighs. Sigh.

Why driving instead of flying?

Well, there’s that sentimental paragraph about Los Angeles that I just vomited at you. Otherwise, we’re just adventurers. Plus, as a homeschooling family, we tend to be on exploring side. Curiosity is not in short supply here.

For years, Jenni and I have been entertaining the notion of taking our lives on the road on a long term basis. Of course, we would do it in something larger than a Swedish station wagon. Ouch.

This trip puts us smack dab into the initial test phase. More on that later.

The Work

I’ve been working since I was 13 years old. I will die before I retire, which means I’ll always be doing something. Puttering and old war movies ain’t my thing.

Vacation isn’t much different. I don’t go for the lay-on-the-beach-sipping-fruity-things vacation. Oh my god, kill me now. At the very least I need to be surfing or swimming or playing volleyball, because lounging in a beach chair makes me go insane after about five minutes.

Last year we took a vacation to Mount St. Helens. We helped clear trails. Yes. We are freaks. I’m aware of this.

So I’m working. I hadn’t planned on working as much as I have, but my formula for getting new projects (whine and moan about no work) did the trick. Four hours on the road and I started getting calls. Awesome.

I’ve got my mobile office with me. In fact, Sparky Firepants Images is currently contained in a single backpack. Macbook, graphics tablet, checkbook, backup drive, cards, art supplies, and even books to give as gifts.

These days, wi-fi is almost ubiquitous. Mobile devices let us stay in contact with our families, co-workers, and clients more than ever. Like, constantly. So there’s nothing standing in the way of maintaining relationships and keeping projects humming along.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all nose to the grindstone here. We’re meeting family, exploring, having big dinners, playing. My work schedule isn’t exactly banker’s hours right now. It’s a bit of a strain sometimes (on everyone).

But looking at the bigger picture, we’re figuring out how the mobile business and life can work.

A Question

Victoria and I were talking about taking leaps today. I was wondering out loud why some people take risks (leaving a job to pursue independent work, for example) and others prefer to keep the status quo (i.e.; perceived stability).

She offered that for some people, the fear of the status quo eclipses the fear of taking a big risk.

It’s so true. I wonder if there’s a tipping point for everyone to take a leap?

On Sunday we point our wagon towards home. A few more days of mobile life and mobile work and it’s back to the home that’s firmly planted in Oregon soil. Will it be a relief? Will we miss the road? Will we start shopping for an RV? We’ll see.

“This is a message to the American people; we’re trying to bring down your costs to help more Americans afford health insurance.”  - Democratic Rep. Chris Van Hollen of Maryland

You know what bothers me most about this comment?

The proposed solution being touted is not about helping Americans afford health care anymore. It used to be about health care. The bill that passed the House and is now in the Senate doesn’t address the high cost of health care. It’s written to solve the problem of paying for health insurance.

I’ve written to one of my congressman, Earl Blumenthal (D-Oregon) several times now, expressing my concerns and offering my suggestions.

Disclaimer: this post is not about Republicans vs Democrats, or kumbaya bipartisanship. This is about solving a problem. I’ll delete comments that sling mud at either party and don’t seek to solve the issue.

You may not be surprised to hear that Earl isn’t listening. I’m not naive enough to think that my letters will have any effect on what is already a decided course of action by most of Congress, but I felt that I couldn’t really complain if I hadn’t taken that step (token though it may be). Earl can’t respond to every one of his constituents personally; that’s the numbers game and I totally get it.

However, Earl Blumenthal, like most of Congress, never really set out to solve the problem for all Americans. Rather, he set out to make himself look like a hero by creating a system for the poor.

The proposed health insurance “solution” is about Congress putting on a band-aid in front of the cameras.

If President Obama signs this bill into law (providing it passes the Senate), it will surely provide health insurance to the poor. I have no doubt about that.

Supposedly, the party line goes, the rich can already afford insurance. The middle class just wants to keep their insurance if they switch jobs, and pay a little less. The poor are uninsured because they can’t afford the high cost, which apparently is the fault of the uninsured. Presumably, we (I don’t currently carry insurance) have driven up costs because we’re not paying “our fair share.”

I apologize, America. This is my fault.

Our family is healthy. Any money spent on insurance is only a drain on our tight budget. We’re not actually using any of the benefits (which, even if we did would still still be out of pocket up to $10,000 on our last plan. $10,000 may as well be a million when you don’t have it).

So when Congress comes up with their amazing plan to help all Americans afford insurance, I’m not impressed. I don’t need insurance. I don’t want insurance.

I want to be able to afford health care. Not health insurance.

Congress seems to think they are one in the same. They aren’t.

The other problem, from what I understand, is the high cost of the uninsured not paying their medical bills. Apparently the rich are picking up the tab for that.

If that’s true, then how does this solve that problem? The rich will still be carrying the burden, because they won’t have access to the nicely-priced public option.

Shouldn’t a public option include all Americans? Otherwise it’s a welfare system, which rewards citizens for not succeeding in life. I can hear the conversations now:

Bill: Hey, I hear you got a raise, Mary. Awesome! Good on ya!

Mary: Hmm, yeah. I guess so. Except now I’m out of the public option bracket, so I have to buy insurance, which means I didn’t get a raise at all.

Bill: Oh, wow. Thank God I still make under $40,000. My wife wants to go back to work, but if she does we’ll have to do that, too. Sucks for her.

Why would any sane person want to succeed under this system? It rewards you for being poor.

Public Health Insurance also begs the question, if it’s meant to be public health care, why the insurance middleman-type thing necessary?

A straightforward public option (no middleman) makes more sense. Otherwise, you’re modeling a government system on an industry that has slowly been proven not to work (which is why people are crying out for reform in the first place).

The solution from Congress serves three classes:

• The Poor
• Insurance Companies
• Congress

I know at least part of the answer to true health care reform. Get rid of the insurance middleman.

Start with a clean slate and then we’ll have a shot at actually providing affordable health care to all Americans. And I mean all Americans.

The first time I visited Europe, I was whisked from the airport to a small gasthaus (pub) in Ramstein. My experience with beer up to that time was Arizona desert party keggers (wooooooo! paaartayyyy!) and Miller Genuine Draft at the ball game. So when these wonderful people brought me a huge golden tower of Hefeweizen at the gasthaus, I was in awe. And a little cautious – is this a joke? Then, one sip and I was done with watery cans of corn sugar forever.

So I am a beer snob and I’m not afraid to say it. I have standards that no can of light beer will ever hope to meet. I’ve even entered the world of home brewing, so my kids have to endure tours of local breweries and talk of IBUs (as homeschoolers, the added benefit is learning about chemistry and the fascinating world of enzymes).

One of my favorites is Stone Brewery in Escondido, California. Excellent beer, of course. What I really admire and wanted to share with you is their marketing.

Beer marketing?

Stone will never compete with Budweiser or Coors. That’s actually a great thing. People who order Bud Lite at the bar or the game or bring home cases of Coors will probably never pick up a bottle of Arrogant Bastard or Russian Imperial Stout. Which is fine, because the Bud Lite-drinking people don’t give a rat’s ass about craft beer. All as it should be.

So Stone’s market is not billions of people, it’s more like a few million. Easier.

And what about that Arrogant Bastard Ale? Let’s make the niche even smaller and easier to work with. Here’s a snippet of what’s on the label of Arrogant Bastard:

This is an aggressive beer. You probably won’t like it. It’s doubtful that you have the taste or sophistication to be able to appreciate an ale of this quality and depth.

Okay, so first: Arrogant Bastard, the name. You have to be a certain kind of person to appreciate that name and not turn away in disgust while you search for a pretty name like, oh I don’t know… Hamm’s. To me, the name rocks. It draws me in, because sometimes, on a deep cro-magnon level I like to feel like an arrogant bastard and I want to drink what other arrogant bastards are drinking.

There’s a snearing devil on the label. ’nuff said.

Now, we turn to that awesome description. It basically says DON’T DRINK THIS. You probably won’t like it. Isn’t that sorta counterintuitive to the whole idea of marketing your product? Don’t you want to tell people why they should like your thing instead of convincing them that they won’t?

Yet this is exactly the thing that will make certain people snag it off the shelf before they finish reading the rest of the label.

Certain people. Not Bud Lite People. See, Bud Lite has to tell people that they will like their beer. If anyone suggested to a Budweiser executive that they should tell people who like really great beer to stay away, they’d probably get tossed into the mash.

Except that it would be an excellent marketing strategy. “Beer snobs, stay away. This is for real men who drink real beer.”

Can’t you just see the right dudes get all fired up about that? Boo-ya. They would probably sell beer to guys who didn’t drink a lot of beer but really enjoy feeling like they’ve one-upped the snobs and the yuppie crowd.

But Budweiser is trying to sell beer to a humongous market, so they won’t do that. They have to be careful.

Be an Arrogant Bastard

A lot of us know about finding our niche. Some of us are still working on it (okay, I am) and it takes time. But I was just thinking that I’ve still been too careful about turning off people who might not get me. That’s a hard truth, but there it is.

I have to work on that.

So what about you? Can you challenge yourself to actually try and turn away people who don’t get what you do or how you do it?

If you’re kind of like an Arrogant Bastard Ale person, you’ll friggin’ love this.

Driving from Portland to Phoenix was ambitious, we knew. Flying would have been quick and fairly painless.

But we are a little bit crazy. Yes, sir. One large Volvo wagon packed with crazy, please. To go.

This is how we roll. No chiseled-in-stone itinerary, just a broad, sweeping notion that we’d like to see a new city. So we skip the tourist guides, eschew the Zagat’s, poo-poo the parenting mags for the “Best Spots to Take Toddlers and Teens,” and shoot from the hip. Jenni and I have been doing this since we lived in Germany. So now we have our very own Heidelberg, our private Paris, our very personal Santa Ynez Valley. Out-of-the-way places that aren’t in the guidebooks are the places you will find us. We explore.

Sometimes that means we wind up in some pretty sketchy areas, nervously ordering pizza with one eye on the door. Sometimes that means we find paradise in a place where other tourists hurry past on their way to the Big Thing. Both mean that we get to talk about it for years afterward.

Is it any coincidence that I run my business this way?

It sounds like a recipe for disaster, right? Sensible, solid business folk have sensible, solid business plans, right? Well, sure I have a plan. I don’t just wing it from day to day. There has to be a strategy in place, with goals to reach for. I need to know if I’m getting off track and not effectively helping anyone.

It’s a little loose, but it’s not a stumbling drunk.

It’s like taking a long car trip. We know we need to be in Phoenix before November 5th, because there are a bunch of people showing up to an event that I’m supposed to be leading. There are a few nieces and nephews we’ve never met who need to plan around our arrival. We also know the general route we need to take, South through California (veering East into Nevada, while interesting, would be counterproductive to our goal).

That said, we’ve stopped a few times more than we planned. See, we used to live in Los Angeles and as a family we have strong memories of certain areas. For example, we decided to take our 2-year old to our old private Malibu beach haunt. Now we’re stopping in San Bernardino, because taking a rest for the night is necessary for the sanity of all.

We’ll get to Phoenix tomorrow. We’re cool. We’re “on target” as they say in Big People World.

Running a business is like that. You know where you’re supposed to be and you plan on a time to arrive, but you allow for stuff to happen along the way. You explore. You invent. You take a detour because it stirs something in your soul. That keeps your business alive and flowing, so it doesn’t get stale.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t peruse an article or a guidebook to see if there’s something awesome that a fellow traveler thought was worthy of pointing out.

That’s where reading blogs, talking to coaches, and learning about business and marketing have their value. It’s not about shoving you on a tour bus and telling you exactly what you should find interesting. It’s about jotting down that hill where you can see the same view of the Rhine River that Samuel Clemens was inspired by. If that interests you, great. If not, move along. There’s more to see.

Speaking of coaches and learning new stuff, I just read this post by Charlie Gilkey, “Today is Two Weeks From Two Weeks Ago.” Charlie reminded me that sometimes I can say “no” to the glorious new opportunity and still be okay.

Sometimes it’s cool to explore new territory and sometimes you need to drive on past, rest where you planned, and keep your sanity. If you’re already open to finding new awesome places, you’ll always find more.

It’s almost a cliche that business owners say they never really take a vacation. It’s sort of true. I mean, you might transport your body to some location that’s not your office, but your mind and heart are still in your business.

Naomi of IttyBiz wrote something the other day about the idea that separating your business and your “life” is kind of bogus. I wish I could remember where she wrote it, but my laptop battery is dying and I’m madly trying to get these thoughts down. Ask her. I agreed, I remember that much.

Update: I admit to lameness right now. I just spent most of yesterday trying to find the place where I read Naomi’s one sentence that was so important that I referred to it in this post. Searched e-mail, Twitter, her blog. No dice. But it was really good.

So on Wednesday (mechanic willing) the whole family is piling in our 1986 Volvo wagon (speaking of cliches) and heading down I-5 towards Phoenix. For the kids, it’s a vacation. For me and Jenni, it’s working away from home.

• There’s this workshop I’m leading on November 5th.
• There are those clients who can’t afford to put their lives and businesses on hold so I can see the Presidio.
• There are the meetups in San Francisco, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, and Phoenix.

The funny thing is, this doesn’t feel like “work” work. It feels like fun. I like being in touch with my clients. I like meeting people I’ve connected with on the internet. I like giving workshops.

So my vacation isn’t in the form of decompression with a fruity drink by a breezy Miami pool.

There may be breezes. There may be fruity drinks beer. There may even be a pool.

But I’ll be working with my client people. And I’ll still get to hang with my family people, which is the best part about running my own business.

Everybody in the car!

Fantastic side note: If you click on the title, the Amazon page shows the price as… discounted. Pure, unbleached irony right there.

The book is mostly about retail and product manufacturing, but there are some important lessons for creative service people, too.

One of those lessons relates to what I see as the cheapening of design services by crowdsourcing and the bid site model.

You know what? There’s always going to be someone who creates the same thing you do for less. There’s always going to be someone searching for the lowest price.

This is not a problem if you’re in the business of service.

If you’re a web designer, don’t sell web pages. If you’re a graphic designer, don’t sell graphics.

Rather, offer your unique brand of experience and knowledge. See how long cheap web sites or graphics can compete with you there.

When I last worked for a corporate firm, the CEO met with me regularly to see how things were going. One of her questions was always, “What keeps you up at night?”

I love this question. My answer changed at least every quarter and she was quick to point out how that demonstrated I was growing in my role.

That was awesome for me then, but here’s a twist for you now: why not ask your clients this question?

I’ll bet they’ve never been asked this question by someone who was helping them with their creative projects.

Their answer accomplishes two things:

1. You’ve forged a tiny bond with your client. They’ve shared something with you about their business and you’ll now be fighting the forces of insomnia together.
2. You now know what kind of stuff you should avoid doing with this client. Hint: avoid it.

In other words, help your client get a good night’s sleep, at least where you’re concerned.

I’m sure you can take this further. That’s for you and your client to figure out. Enjoy.

Bumping into celebrities is a common occurrence in Manhattan, but in this case we were kind of wowed because we had just moved there from Los Angeles and Jackson Browne is the quintessential Southern California rock dude. Plus, we’re huge fans.

Still, we managed to keep our heads together and just had a nice chat with him before he continued on his way and we went ours. As big a star as Jackson Browne is, he’s also just this dude who has stuff to do, you know? Just walking down Madison, stuff to do.

We’ve all got stuff to do.

Sometimes it’s scary dealing with clients. Negotiating contracts with Bigshot Corporate mucky-mucks, trying to please the art director of a national magazine, calling that guy who you’ve been dying to work with for a year and is now expecting you to bring him awesome concepts. Attorneys who tend to be on the screamy side.

Sometimes in your head you start building these people up to be villains in your little story. It makes you tense just thinking about answering that e-mail.

When this starts happening, it helps to start thinking about your clients and the stuff they have to do. I don’t mean trying to trick yourself into picturing the audience in their underwear (that’s so Brady Bunch – and it’s too distracting). I mean really getting a story going in your head of all the crap this person has to do in the course of their day.

Pick up the kids at school. Wipe that wet spot off their pants so it doesn’t look like they peed themselves in the meeting. Trying to pick out the right razor for their spouse. Sighing because they just remembered they have to go to that thing tonight with those people they don’t like. Oh, look – pizza!

You know, stuff.

They have their stuff. And in the middle of all their stuff you know what they’re thinking about you? One of two things:

A. Nothing.

B. Oh my god, I hope those graphics/layouts/patterns/web pages look okay tomorrow, because I’m probably getting fired/losing my business/going to be out a lot of money if they don’t.

Stuff.

So in the middle of all that, just be the person who gives them some relief from their stuff. Focus on that.

“Subscribe for yummies.”

That was my introduction to S.Joy Studios and Sarah Bray. That’s what it says on her web site over a little park bench graphic that you click on to get Sarah’s e-mail updates.

How could I not sign up for the promise of yummies?

Now I can attest that the updates have indeed been yummy. Sarah has a brevity I admire and her e-mails actually contain information I can use.

If I was only seeing some cute and fun stuff, it wouldn’t be worth sharing with you here. I could do that on Twitter (and I have). But it’s more than just cute fun. If you’re in a creative business, Sarah is someone to watch.

I want to highlight S.Joy Studios as a great creative biz to model because Sarah does some experimenting by way of what she offers to help her people.

A while back, I asked about ideas of how creatives could flip the usual rate model (rather than the trading-hours-for-cash thing). I wanted to hear about new creative business models and see them in action. I didn’t get much of a response there, so I decided to go hunting. Enter Sarah.

Sarah offers a package called LiteSites. I’ll let her explain (see below), but this is the kind of thing that more creative businesses need to be doing.

The practices of offering hourly rates and trading time for money are quickly becoming archaic (if they’re not already). Simply being a production monkey has its place (design intern) but that doesn’t really help people get what they need.

People need holistic solutions created for them and small creative businesses are in an excellent position to deliver those solutions. We’re flexible. We’re human. We can adapt quickly to the latest needs, as well as shape those needs by being who we are, offering help in a way that’s relevant to the world as it exists, not the paradigm that was.

Okay. I’m soapboxing a bit. The real reason you’re here is to read about Sarah. Here you go.

Le Interview

Hi, Sarah, thanks for being here. Please introduce yourself to our studio audience.

Hey David…hey everybody. I’m a web designer of 7 years, and I’ve been freelancing for the past three. I’m sort of opinionated. And wacky. And I’m also a not-exactly-secret admirer of Sparky here. :)

Who is your ideal client?

I like working with people who are teachable. People who understand that the way they’ve been doing things is going to have to change if they want to really rock their stuff. Startups get me on fire, and I love working with people who are new to the whole “doing most of your work online” thing.

Tell me about your LiteSites package. How and why did you come up with that?

My goal from day one has been to approach my work as art. I have a unique design sense, and LiteSites allow me to do whatever the heck I want. And then see if it sells later. It also gives people an opportunity to work with me at a more affordable price.

It’s like comparing a commissioned piece of art to an original, non-commissioned piece. It’s not quite as pricey, but it’s super high quality (and, in this case, still customized).

Please share your own personal recipe for PB & J.

I like PB and apple butter on really fresh, cheap white bread. With pita chips and hummus on the side. :)

What makes you freak out?

Everything, nearly. I am naturally an anxious person, which really sucks considering that I’m completely self-employed and am the sole source of income for my family of four.

What keeps you centered?

My husband John, who is about as “non-freak-out” as they come. Also, I’m pretty religious, which not a lot of people know. Not in the “everybody’s going to hell” kind of way, but in the “wow, I am so baffled at the enormity of it all” way. Knowing that I’m actually a very small piece of this planet makes me feel less terrified.

If you were stuck in the Minot, North Dakota airport for a whole day because your flight was cancelled, which Muppet would you most want in the waiting area with you? Why?

Geez, are you kidding me? Animal rocks. Banging on drums and screaming at the top of my lungs would be the perfect antidote to missing a flight (which, by the way, also freaks me out…)

Visit Sarah

She has really interesting things to say on her site, which you know in the blogosphere is like gold. I encourage you to read her stuff. If you’re like me, you won’t be skimming, you’ll actually be reading.

Thanks, Sarah.

Karl’s blog is one of those resources I like to dip into every now and then. I know there’s always going to be something I can use there, or if it doesn’t speak to me personally, most of the time I know someone who could benefit. So I pass it along and go check my Google account to see how my Karma analytics are doing. Google does everything now. This morning I flushed the toilet and a handy little message floated up that asked, “Did you mean plush toilet?”

I’m just happy somebody’s got my back. Ya know?

Check out Work Happy Now and see what Karl has to say about picking mushrooms.

Oh and he also posted a little ditty about Marelisa Fábrega’s excellent book, How to Be More Creative: A Handbook for Alchemists. Check out his review. It’s… happy.