I return to my old, cork-colored cubicle and feel the jaws of the trap again. It's a dangerous time. I've never been able to refill my tank since starting the magazine over a year ago, and, as I've mentioned, I've been getting dumber. Running on the memories of fumes, far and away past burnout. It's at this point in the growth of a small business that you face your biggest temptation–something that's peddled by the culture as an aspiration.
If you start a business while living paycheck to paycheck as I did, you have some pretty slim margins for failure. The model basically has to work from the beginning. So far, I've been very lucky. I've also been blessed by the favorable small business community here in Denver. Say what you will about this city, but, if you're looking for a place to start a business, you could do a lot worse. From the beginning, the idea of Denverse was nursed and encouraged by other indie locals. Over a dozen complete strangers took leaps of faith and bought ad space in the first issue when we had a handful of nothing. Afterward, more came onboard, and so on. At this point, we've got a lot of positive momentum, as word of mouth spreads about our mission and subscribers continue to pile up (it really helps; thank you). Yet, if established media giants like The New York Times and CNN can struggle, so can Denverse. It takes a long time for a new company to become profitable; meanwhile, the long hours and the patience game take their toll.
Even if you're fortunate enough to break even, you have to keep your day job to fund your life–to pay the rent, stock the fridge, etc. And you'll probably start to resent this dynamic, especially when you feel like your 9-5 is preventing you from improving the business. This is when the temptation sets in. You start to think, Hey, wouldn't it be nice if I had a benefactor? Someone to bankroll this whole venture and set me free? Oh, if I can run this business with a regular desk job, just think of the things I could do with a fraction of the wealth some people are born with!!!
Yes, it's a dangerous time.
I've been approached by a few investors–and, well-intentioned as several of them seem to be–these six-figure cash infusion offers always scare me. That TV show is called Shark Tank for a reason. And I wouldn't be able to operate a business in America if I couldn't conference with my dark side. There is a part of me that is ambitious, vain, selfish, petty, and ruthless. If I let it loose, it would destroy me and make me rich. I can't let it win yet though, and maybe I never will. Hmm…maybe in my forties… For now, I'm at least acquainted with the dirty murderous engine of human achievement. And that acquaintance makes me wary of anyone (even the most angelic of angel investors) who comes down to pay a visit to little old Denverse.
Why would someone give a stranger money unless they wanted something? Certainly, charity exists, but how much would people really give if they didn't get tax write-offs, plaques, memorial benches, or any of the other lagniappes out of alumni association catalogues? I know there are people capable of genuine altruism. I've met them. But I'm more likely to trust in people's transactional nature when I'm doing business, especially when it's that same transactional nature that bestows these investors with impressive wealth (families don't stockpile gold by being altruistic).
So every time I've been offered money–the kind that would free my mind from all this workaday fatigue–I've declined it. I might be wrong about this, but I'm constantly suspicious. Let's say someone gives me a bunch of money. They love the magazine. They say they just want to see us succeed. Then a month or two later, they send me an email saying that their cousin is an aspiring cryptocurrency influencer and that they have some thoughts on alpha male breakfast routines that I should consider publishing in our next issue. Maybe I'll be able to hold firm and say no. Maybe. But I'll definitely have to be nice about it. I'll probably have to read the piece at least. Suddenly, the editorial independence that was so crucial to the success of a magazine is being eroded. There's an outside influence I have to contend with, someone I have to appease. And this is how it happens at the macro level. This is why attempts at objective grassroots journalism are so difficult. Someone will swoop in with heaps of irresistible cash, offering the founder freedom from the grind. But there is an exchange happening. It's Economics 101: TINSTAAFL.
For now, I'm going to slug it out and keep this thing independent, my brain be damned, because if I don't give this a real try, what's the point? Ultimately, giving up just wouldn't be interesting. I’m already feeling better, in fact. It's time to press on!
Inkfully Yours,
Paul M. French
Editor
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