🎧 Listen to the podcast version of this email here.
A few days ago I recorded a podcast with my old colleague and friend Amena.
We ended up talking about side quests.
If you've ever played a video game, you'll know exactly what I mean.
You're heading somewhere. You've got a goal, a destination, something you're trying to build. Then a door lights up somewhere off to the side.
You weren't planning to go through it.
But it looks interesting.
Before you know it, you've wandered off the main path and you're on a side quest.
I've always liked side quests.
In fact, I probably like them a little too much.
A few years ago I started making more videos for myself. Mostly content for YouTube, LinkedIn and other platforms. I enjoyed it, and after a while clients started noticing.
A few asked whether I could help them create videos too.
Usually these were internal videos: say a project update with key learning or even pitching ideas to the board of directors.
One video project became two. Two became three. Before long I'd created a little side business around it, which I called The Magic Studio.
On paper it made perfect sense.
I enjoyed the work. Clients were willing to pay for it. It gave me another revenue stream. It felt connected enough to the rest of what I was already doing that I never really questioned it.
The problem only became obvious much later.
The actual video work wasn't particularly difficult.
The hard part was everything around it.
Managing the clients' internal stakeholders.
Which led to numerous rounds of Just one more tiny change.
The endless attempts to decipher comments like, Can we make it a bit more energetic?
Or my personal favourite:
I'll know it when I see it.
The projects looked small on the invoice, but they rarely felt small on the calendar.
A relatively modest video project could end up consuming almost as much time and mental energy as one of my larger consulting & facilitation projects.
At some point I found myself staring at my calendar and asking a fairly uncomfortable question:
Why am I doing this?
And before anybody jumps to conclusions, this isn't about video work being bad.
Far from it.
There are people who have built fantastic businesses around it.
The question was whether it belonged in my business and that's a very different question.
Last week I wrote about separating The Magic Sauce and The Solo Sauce because trying to squeeze both businesses into the same place was creating confusion.
This feels like the next step.
Once you've decided where you're going, you eventually have to decide what isn't coming with you.
Sometimes you have to leave a few dead bodies by the side of the road.
Or whatever slightly less traumatic phrase you can think of.
Either way, the principle remains the same:
Not everything that makes sense deserves a permanent place in the business.
My brain is hardwired to spot patterns, connect dots and generate ideas. It's a gift when you're helping people navigate complexity because you can often see routes forward that others haven't spotted yet.
It's also a curse.
Because that machine doesn't always switch off.
Sometimes it keeps producing ideas long after the conveyor belt is full.
Sometimes it keeps handing you opportunities before you've fully evaluated the last one.
Sometimes it mistakes novelty for progress.
And I suspect a lot of independent professionals experience some version of this.
Over time these things accumulate. Another offer here, a side project there, a service you never intended to build but somehow did anyway.
Individually they don't feel like much.
Collectively they can pull your attention in a dozen different directions.
Then we wonder why we're struggling to focus.
Or why we're exhausted at the end of the day.
Or why the thing we care most about never seems to get the attention it deserves.
Focus isn't something you find. It's something you create.
So what do you do with this then?
One of the fastest ways to create focus is by turning a few things off.
Which is exactly what I'm doing.
The Magic Studio side quest has been fun and I've learned a lot. It's introduced me to some great people.
But it's time to close that door and put the energy somewhere else.
It no longer fits.
Take a look at what's eating your energy inside your business.
I'm not talking about the obviously bad ideas. Those are easy.
I'm talking about the things that sort of work. The projects you enjoy well enough. The offers that bring in a bit of money. The opportunities you've kept around because one day they might become something bigger.
Then ask yourself a simple question:
If I was starting from scratch today, would I build this again?
Because sometimes the thing slowing you down isn't what you're missing.
It's what you're still carrying.
One final thing.
Thank you to everybody who's been replying to these newsletters lately.
One of the nicest surprises has been hearing how some of these ideas have landed.
A few of you have told me they helped you make a decision, start something you'd been putting off, or finally stop something that wasn't serving you anymore.
That's exactly why I write these.
If this newsletter has been useful to you, feel free to forward it to somebody else who might need it too.
Make it a great day.
