I don’t have an online business

There are an abundance of websites out there catering to people who want to “break free from the 9-to-5,” “live and work from anywhere,” and “build recurring passive income.” Most of these websites center around the story of an unwitting young protagonist, trapped in the miserable grind of a demeaning desk job, who takes a huge risk and wins big by building a business online. And now, he’s going to show you exactly how he did it so you can live a life you’ve only dreamed of.

This is not one of those websites. I don’t have an online business, and I have no idea how to build one.

I do have an MBA which left me with about $70k in student loans, but fortunately that same MBA landed me a consulting job that pays quite well. So, I can probably pay off the rest of the loan in a year or so. On the flip side, I don’t enjoy this job at all. So there’s that.

I also have a wife who doesn’t work–well, technically, she has a temporary job working from home as a Google Ads rater for $15/hr but it’s only part-time. We have a son who will turn 2 in June, and tentative plans to maybe try for another child within a year. So I’ve got some people to support with my income.

I’m just a dude with some pretty typical circumstances at the ripe old age of 32.

And yet… I am absolutely mesmerized by the idea of running my own business, especially an online business. Some of the internet hawkers have caught my attention, and I have even spent some money on courses to help me build an online business. I’ve done some of the work, and made some progress, but have more or less stalled out.

In other words, I’ve followed the same trajectory as probably 90% of the people who buy these courses.

I’m not giving up yet though. I recently came across Sean Ogle’s website, which at first glance follows the standard script for a website selling “lifestyle design.” I did sign up for his list though, just to see what kind of advice was offered, and the first major task was to start a blog. Not a blog with the goal of selling something, but just a blog, to write whatever the hell I wanted to write about.

So, I am going to write this blog about my haphazard and sometimes comical attempts to start an online business. I’m not writing for an audience and I’m not writing to sell something. I’m just writing because I find it therapeutic and because there is a remote possibility that someone else might find some value in the stories I have to tell.

Welcome to my blog.

Urgency, importance and futility

I’ve been using Trello as my task organizer for a while now, and I’ve taken quite a liking to it. I have a single board that captures most of my active to-do list, sorted into four levels of urgency and tagged with five levels of importance. Why that particular level of granularity? I’m not sure… it’s a choice I made when I created the board and I’ve stuck with it since then. In any case, it hasn’t been working as well as I’d hoped.

The issues I’ve been having with my system are not about too much granularity, so much as a lack of awareness of the purpose of my lists and labels. The urgency-importance method of prioritizing tasks comes from Stephen Covey’s seven habits, and it may be the single most important takeaway from his book. It’s legit. The problem is that I have used it to make my task list look pretty, but not to actually make decisions about how to spend my time.

A big reason that I have recently been attempting to build stronger time management habits is that my natural, intuitive ways of choosing how to spend my time were insufficient for the stage of life I had entered. Marriage, raising a child and grad school are all pretty demanding, especially all at the same time. I no longer have the feeling that if I don’t get to something today, I’ll have time tomorrow. Trying to work on something that isn’t automatically at the forefront of my mind—like writing a blog entry—requires me to proactively carve out time for it and hold my ground against pressure from other demands.

My natural way of handling tasks has always been to choose them on the fly. If I have a couple hours between classes to sit down and get work done, I’ll just open up my task list and pick something. In some cases the choice is obvious, like when an assignment is due soon, but often it’s not so clear. In these cases my system does not work as intended, because as soon as I engage my cognitive decision-making apparatus, it reverts to my default method of choosing. And my default method of choosing is heavily weighted towards my mood and emotions at the time. If I don’t feel like working on something, I’m going to rationalize a way to work on something else. Added information about urgency or whatever is not going to overcome that natural tendency.

It does not take much strength to do things, but it requires a great deal of strength to decide what to do.

The problem, really, is that I’m making a choice at all. I’ve arrived at this same idea in many other contexts while attempting to change my habits. Elbert Hubbard is right—the decision is my weak point, not the action itself. The whole point of spending the time and effort to prioritize a task list is so that I don’t have to choose later, when I am at my weakest. If I’m going to gain any of the benefits of this system I’ve set up, I should be treating it like an algorithm that tells me what to do, that relieves me of the burden of choice.

Perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but I’m coming around to the conclusion that it’s the right attitude, at least for me. Because as it is, my task list is effectively a free-for-all. It does a good job of capturing most of the things I have to do and presenting them in a logical manner, but it has no significant effect on the actual choices I make. And in the end, what I actually do is the only thing that matters.

The Writing Corollary to the Efficient-Market Hypothesis, Or: Why I blog even when I know my ideas aren’t original

Sometimes when I think about writing a blog post, I imagine that my chosen topic has probably already been covered thoroughly by someone else somewhere, and it’s probably not adding any value to the world to just rehash that same information. Or, similarly, that before starting I need to read everything that’s ever been written on the subject to verify whether or not I have anything new to add to the discourse.

I like to call this concept the Writing Corollary to the Efficient-Market Hypothesis. Essentially, there are so many humans who are thinking and writing about so many things—especially since the advent of the blog—that every idea I could ever want to write about has already been written before. Not the exact same words, of course, but the same idea. There is another corollary that applies to business ideas as well. The common phrasing is “Well, if that was such a good business idea then someone else would have done it by now.” But that’s a discussion for another day.

My recent personal experiences have helped to break down this fallacy of thought, to some extent. Even if we assume that the postulate is true, and “there is nothing new under the sun” when it comes to the written word, I think there is still some value in rewriting it. Let me enumerate a few reasons I’ve come up with.

1. It may be the first time a reader encounters the idea.

Nowadays people get information from a nearly infinite variety of sources. I used to think that there is typically one “best” authority on a particular subject, and eventually everyone will gravitate to that source. This way of thinking may be an artifact of my schooling as a child; I was highly focused on math and science and in such fields there often is a recognized authority. But for any realm of thought where objective truth is difficult to pin down or simply doesn’t exist, this isn’t true at all. And in the great expanse of life, most human knowledge and ideas fall into this category.

So, unlike learning mathematics, where a person is almost always introduced to the idea of calculus through a textbook or lecture in school, there is no standard well-worn path for gaining knowledge about most ideas. As an example, I was introduced to the author John Holt and the concept of unschooling through a website about learning Japanese. I’m now keenly interested in the subject and have read half a dozen books about it. But if the author of that Japanese website hadn’t written about it—a topic that is perhaps only tangentially related to learning Japanese—then I may never have encountered that idea.

Our exposure to different sources of information is an unpredictable organic process, and by adding my words to the mix I am expanding the number of avenues through which a person might arrive at the information they seek. And so I write.

2. It adds strength to the idea itself.

When I read something for the first time that really clicks with me, I often think that my mind is changed at that moment. I begin believing in this new idea at that time, and it’s like an irreversible chemical reaction. Or so I like to think. But in reality, belief comes in degrees. If someone asks me what I believe, I’ll come up with a list of items, and a distinction is drawn—something is either on the list, or not on the list. But when I am not consciously enumerating beliefs, they affect my thoughts and actions in very different ways. Some beliefs are so pervasive that they govern my daily habits, while others just sit in the back of my mind like a trophy on a shelf, of no real use until I have to bring it up in conversation.

I find that the beliefs that truly help to define my daily existence are the ones that I read about and discuss with others frequently. Having seen some changes in my beliefs recently, I can state fairly confidently that the causation flows from experience—reading or talking about an idea—to belief, and not the other way around. Furthermore, ideas gain strength when I get them from a greater variety of sources, especially when the sources are in different contexts.

By writing about an idea that I believe in, I am providing another source within the context of my blog that can reinforce that idea in a reader’s mind. Who knows, it may just be the tipping point that triggers someone to take action based on sufficient belief in that new idea. And so I write.

3. Every individual’s experience of an idea is unique.

I’m going to use a recent example from my life to explain this point. I recently started meditating and writing a brief journal entry, sporadically at first but more and more often until now I do it every single day. I did not come up with this idea on my own; I heard from a number of different people that it has been an overwhelmingly positive habit in their lives. These people were mostly friends, and I respected and trusted them, but I still had to hear the same message over and over again for about six months before I actually tried it myself.

A few months after I had established this habit, I started reading a book called The Willpower Instinct by psychologist Kelly McGonigal, which was recommended to me by my business ethics professor. The book approaches willpower from an evidence-based foundation, citing results from scientific studies to help explain the neurological underpinnings of willpower and how to go about improving it. Early in the book, the author states that meditation is one of the most effective practices to help improve functioning in the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which is basically where willpower originates. She goes on to recommend meditation as a foundation for anyone seeking to improve willpower.

It was pretty cool to read some scientific validation of a positive habit that I had recently started. But I can promise you, if I had read that book by itself, without hearing from other people about their experience with meditation, I would not have started the habit. I don’t think I’ve ever changed my habits based solely on something I read in a book, regardless of how convincingly it was presented.

The difference is that hearing about the actual experiences of my friends provided a rich context for the idea itself, and made it a lot easier to accept. I knew I had similar thoughts and behaviors as them, and so if meditation could make things better for them then it’s not much of a stretch to say it might help me as well. All this to say that perhaps the ideas I am writing about are not new or unique, but my experience of those ideas is absolutely unique. And if someone reading this blog relates to me because they have had similar experiences, then my words may do more to convey an idea to them than anyone else. And so I write.

The first post

This is my first post on this blog.

I don’t have a whole lot to write about, but I’m using this post as a way to build inertia and make some progress. My typical mindset is to assume that unless a blog post says something worthwhile and unique, there is no point in writing the post at all. And so I don’t write. But, if I am willing to entertain the possibility that there is value in the mere act of writing a blog post regardless of the content, then I can write. Then there is no reason not to write.

I’ve read in more than a few places that to be a successful writer, one must simply write. True writers do not have the luxury of waiting until inspiration strikes to practice their craft; they must write even if their mind is blank and the words flow like molasses on a freezing midwinter morning. I like Steven Pressfield’s description in The War of Art:

The professional cannot allow the actions of others to define his reality. Tomorrow morning the critic will be gone, but the writer will still be there facing the blank page. Nothing matters but that he keep working.

And so I write this blog post, not because I want to be a writer necessarily, but because writing is a necessary skill for whatever kind of “professional” it is that I want to be.