On October 12, I'm getting in my car and leaving the DMV. I'm taking the long way 'round to migrate to Portland.
There will be a wedding. Family. Friends. Questionable hotels. Excellent food. Approximately one kajillion miles of highway. Santa Fe. Flagstaff. Whatever the hell happens in Bakersfield.
And along the way, I'm taking 10 calls.
October 20
October 21
October 22
October 23
October 27
October 29
October 30
October 31
Bring your brand.
Bring your business.
Bring the offer you suddenly hate.
Bring the unhinged idea you are obsessed with.
Bring the website that feels wrong and you can't explain why.
Bring twelve questions.
Bring the professional existential crisis.
Bring absolutely no fucking idea what you want to talk about beyond, “Something is going on.”
We'll see where the conversation goes.
50 deeply connected minutes with me.
No intake form.
No worksheets.
No framework I'm going to shove you through.
No Google Doc you can't find three days later.
I am not promising to solve your problem.
I am promising to actually talk to you about it.
The conversation is the product. The insight is the inspiration.
Because I can.
Because I like talking intimately to interesting people about complicated things.
Because I'm going to have stretches of this trip when I would genuinely rather spend an hour hearing what's happening in your world than stare at Waze or desperately search the podcast player for something different.
And because this particular moment in my life seems like an especially appropriate time to talk to people who are wondering where the hell they're going next. Same, girl, same.
That's as deep as I'm making it.
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