While driving the babies to school (or Jack to school to be picked up by Grandma Cathy), this gripped and nearly strangled me. I have to focus on sales. Not just of wine. Of any kind. Of business and their intentions, their services and their realities, their tangible consistencies. As well, selling myself as a brand. And yes, selling wine… selling my thoughts, offerings to live better. Sipping a large coffee and surrounded by people, group of women in corner, dressed chicly and I heard one of them mention “fashion” guru. ‘Guru’… someone exceptionally skilled at.. whatever. What is my exceptional skill? I’m thinking this at 38… what’s my next step. Sorry this has nothing to do with wine, but with life, something more impacting than a fancy bottle you open, or some group you host. This is the whole story at stake.
More coffee…. And I’m lost, I feel. Not in a bad way, or maybe in a bad way, but in some way nonetheless. Working and writing, creating my way through and out of it, as I urge students to do. Said in class that “Creativity solves everything.” Okay, professor Mikey.. actuate what you advocate! The way you pull yourself from a mood is to keep working, notably in the creative. Don’t worry, reader, I’m fine. This blog is about life, and this is part of life… the struggle, the character building… WORK. Have to leave in a couple, though I don’t want to. My reinvention is completely sales-oriented. And not the trite, overly-scripted sales sort. But creative. Creative selling, where it’s more storytelling and conversational than anything else.
I’m reinvented, and thinking away and outside of all boxes. Had a communication with someone recently that affirmed, to her and all those in her creative firm, the concept of ‘the box’ doesn’t even exist— it doesn’t pertain as it can’t be at all relevant. It doesn’t exist to them. Simply not in their language. I’ve always known this is how I wanted to think and continue as a creative marketer and seller, but was never wholly sold on it. But now because of this brief exchange I had with her, I think I finally am— no, I am, finally. So here I sit, sipping coffee like Sal writing his script, and I’m here re-inventing self— re-writing my story.
And ever off…..