Weaver - Creative truth: start and build a profitable design business

Over the Thanksgiving holiday of 2009, my first son was born and my largest client went bankrupt. Within six weeks, two additional clients informed me they wouldnt be renewing retainers with my company for 2010. My quarterly revenue dropped from $120,000 to $16,000. I was about to lose everything.

The following March, I sold a set of $500 Alessi side tables for $50 to an interior designer at my empty office. I sat on the cold floor with my laptop and waited for him to arrive. I clicked profile after profile on LinkedIn looking for my next client. He arrived, I loaded the tables in his car, and then stared at a hollow space.

I turned out the lights, locked the door, and turned my back on everything I had built. I put $15 of gas in my car and drove to a free networking luncheon. There, I presented my business, made notes, and looked for anyone that I could get work from immediately. As people spilled out of the room, I passed out cards, got names, and set up coffee meetings.

Driving home to work out of a spare bedroom, I ran through the names of those I met and thought about the emails Id send to ask for new business. I had three websites due within the week, and none of them was over half done. Even worse, that wasnt enough business to cover upcoming bills. Here I was, four months behind on my mortgage and I still owed backed payroll to my former employees.

I needed to borrow money, but my credit was maxed-out, so I called my mother. Here I was, thirty years old, and asking my lower-middle-class parents for a loan. I was broken and ashamed. My mother agreed to the loan, fully supportive as always, and said to just let her know if I needed anything. Before saying goodbye, I paused, not finishing the call just yet.

I needed to rant, and my mother was there to listen. I was tired and scared. I couldnt take the grind anymore. I was a great designer and I knew what I was doing. I couldnt understand why things fell apart. I couldnt understand why more people werent hiring me. Sure, the economy had tanked, but there was still a lot of work out there. I should be the one getting it, not the other guys. They were in it for the wrong reasons. I was passionate. I took the time to get it right, and I cared. I felt that I was doing everything right, yet the economics were all wrong. She listened, let me rant for a while, and told me that no matter how things turned out, she and my dad were there to help.

My work was good, yet I wasnt getting hired. Therefore, I must not be any good; me, the person, not the work. I just wasnt going to get the big work. Id always toil away doing projects for a few hundred or maybe a few thousand dollars, and this was as good as it was going to get. I thought that there was something fundamentally wrong with me that I would never overcome.

For the next several weeks, I went on a few hours sleep here and there, got a few more below-average clients, and survived. Enough money came in to keep the lights on. I was always on the edge of default. I went on like this for over a year and a half. I took any project I could get. If a client said I was too expensive, I negotiated down to get the work. I sent in low-ball quotes to anyone from whom I could get a request for proposal. I couldnt risk getting outbid and losing the job. I worked seven days a week as my son grew up and missed most of it.