You could fill Google’s server room with the amount of stuff I don’t know. Which is totally cool with me, because one of the things I’ve come to understand is that it’s okay to not know everything. I’ll come back around to that in a minute.
Here’s a juicy end-of-the-year scandal for you. I enjoy networking events. I know, I know. Freak.
A lot of people (especially artists) cringe at the mention of the N word and I can’t say that I blame them. Networking events are like high school dances without the dancing. There’s that stinky cloud of desperation hanging over the room. Lots of sweating and nervous eating round out the experience.
But I like going to these events because it’s a departure from the safe little cocoon of my studio. Sure, I connect with people on Twitter, on the phone, and through e-mail, but there is just no comparison to standing or sitting across from another human in a shared experience. Even when it kinda sucks it’s better than going it alone every day. Usually I find at least two other people who are there for the same reason and we’ve got a connection.
There are some who will argue that networking is all business and not time for social chit-chat. I say that you can’t have a successful business connection until you have a solid personal connection. Which means chatting about our pets for half an hour. Screw you, Mr. All-Business Stuffypants, we were discussing Babar over here.
However, in all the networking events I’ve attended this year, there was a disturbing pattern that started to reveal itself. I realized that I was always prepared to come up with an answer for everything. I think it’s a habit I picked up from working in a corporate job where if I didn’t have an instant, confident answer for my boss he would become “concerned.” The problem was, I didn’t get better at coming up with answers, I got better at bullshitting.
What I noticed at the events was that the people who were best at making great connections were the people who admitted they needed advice or help in some area. Rather than latching onto the go-to guy/gal with all the answers, it was easier for people to connect with those who showed some vulnerability. Apparently asking questions is not a sign of weakness.
At first, this sounded like a namby-pamby idea to me (Man up! Arr arr arr!). I pride myself on being a confident dude when it comes to the stuff I do. But I realized that even though I’m an expert in graphics and animation, I am not an expert in business or marketing. Admitting that I’m still fumbling my way through building my business at any point doesn’t mean I can’t help people look awesome. It just means I’m more like them, just figuring shit out sometimes.
My number one lesson in 2009: Not knowing every damn thing all the time is not only okay, it’s better.
Just one lesson?
Heh. No way. I have a list of lessons. I’m not going to post them all, but here are the highlights (click the links to see who taught me these lessons):
- Being “Sparky Firepants” is better than trying to mold myself into what I think other people want me to be. The right people just get it.
- Quickbooks. Not quick at all. And there’s no book. To quote A Fish Called Wanda: Disappointed!
- Hanging out on Twitter is great for making and keeping connections. But it doesn’t take the place of spending time with my sketchbook. Ideas! Ideas! Ideas!
- Meeting people, even when it means driving into Portland or all the way to Phoenix, is one of the most worthwhile activities I can do.
- I need to find my people first, then create stuff for them. Not the other way around.
- Everyone else, no matter awesome they appear, is still just figuring out their thing, too.
- When somebody does something amazing that’s similar to the thing I do, applaud and learn. There’s enough for everyone. And we’re all very different.
- Three words: dry erase board.
- That retainer idea that the design community said couldn’t work and I am insane for even thinking about it? It works.
- I can lead a workshop and actually help people. But I need to do more. And I can do it better.
- Nothing happens overnight. It’s staying in the game over the long term that makes it look like it happened overnight.
- People are what make Sparky Firepants exist. Kind of like Santa Claus and Snuffleupagus.
Like I said, there are more lessons than this. December 24th seems to be a good day for taking inventory on what I’ve learned. I don’t know why. It sounds better than going into town for last minute shopping, which I’m doing right after I hit “Publish.”
I’m grateful to all the people who have helped me get better this year. There are so many of you these days, and you’re all uniquely incredible. I hope we’ll connect more in 2010.
If I’ve helped you at all this year, that makes me happy. Even if it was just making you snort tea all over your monitor, I’m deeply gratified. That’s why I’m here.
And, if you we ever meet at a networking event and you want to talk Babar, I’m your man.
My constant desktop companion. We met at the Louvre.
