Yet Another Year In Review - Year 01

Jul 31

Deep Gratitude (An Introduction)

I've told many of you that starting Yet Another Studio is one of the best decisions in my life. While the first year (May 2020-2021) was chaotic and terrible on so many dimensions, it's with great privilege that I recognize what a bountiful first year the Studio had, thanks to many of you reading this.

This "year in review" will be a broad and deep look at where things started, where I'm at today, and where I'm hoping to go. I hope that in reflecting about these things, they may be helpful to those of you considering similar paths.

Year One

In Yet Another Newsletter - Issue 001 I asked and answered "What is Yet Another Studio?"

I hope the honest answer to that question, at least over a long time horizon, is something that mattered. I chose the name “Yet Another” because I want to acknowledge that the Studio is one of many options and because I want clients to think critically about what they are making in a world of excess and planned obsolescence.
The truth is the Studio is a vehicle for me to help drive the kinds of changes I’m excited about seeing in the world. Right now, much of that work is focused on research and how research is practiced, but I have hopes of expanding the scope as I go. I’d love to bring on talented people I respect as collaborators, and leverage our skills in areas where they can be impactful (more on that later).

What I didn't realize then, but have since articulated much better, is that I deeply believe that researchers (and the research process) is much valuable far earlier than companies usually hire for it, and I wanted to start to work towards testing and proving models of how researchers could play in that space. In taking a portfolio approach to my work, which I talk about below in "Me-As-A-Service," I've been able to chip away at different ideas, engagement models, and partnerships.

The first year went very differently than I had expected. I did fewer speaking engagements and workshops and far more embedded work with companies. I'm happy about this outcome, since I imagined the embedded work would be harder to come by. Thankfully, there's a lot of folks who believe in me (thank you!) and I'm grateful for the range of projects I've gotten to work on.

The Work Itself

I'm learning that I still have a pretty wonky elevator pitch, or at least an abstract answer to the question "What do you do?" (which - very fortunately - hasn't become a problem given my clients come almost exclusively from referrals, but it something I should be better about). At the highest level, all of my work is oriented towards helping organizations make better decisions and learn more effectively - and the work itself is a mix of playing and coaching.

In the past year, I've run research for organizations and on organizations, planned research (but not conducted it), given feedback on research (that other people did), helped teams build a decision roadmap off of their product roadmap, taught people how to conduct research, built hiring roadmaps and written job descriptions, suggested and evaluated tools for an organization, wrote performance feedback for clients (that gave me warm fuzzies) and a range of other things that typically get lumped into the name of "strategy." All this to say... whatever it was that would move the client forward.

One reason I'm so open to many activities is that I invest a lot in vetting my clients, because I prefer to work with people, not for them (this is a 100% semantic statement). I call my clients "partners" because in many cases I look like an extension of the team, albeit one with the freedom to play the fool. For many of them, billing on a monthly or per-project basis removes the need for people to ask if it's okay to reach out to me, worried it'll count as billable hours. The goal is more open lines of communication so that I can contribute however is necessary and have more visibility and transparency in the organization to be proactive about how I help.

Since Tom reminded me to keep track of things I'll want to remember in future years, here's a quick snapshot of the who and what in Year 1.

Projects & Partnerships:

10 total
2 Open-Ended Partnerships
3 Speaking Engagements/Workshops
5 Fixed-Term Partnerships

Writing:

I wrote two extended essays and three issues of Yet Another Newsletter:

Year Two (and Beyond)

Beyond the kinds of work that I'm already doing, I plan to lean into the Yet Another moniker and expand it into a full alphabet. I started the Studio to give myself a vehicle through which I could experiment, and as I've started to connect with more folks outside of my main orbits, I'm increasingly excited about collaborating on other things. I'm hopeful that throughout the rest of my career, I'll continue to fill out this alphabet, so we'll have not just Yet Another Studio (S) and Yet Another Newsletter (N), but perhaps Yet Another Book (no idea the topic), Yet Another Camera Strap (why not?) etc. I enjoy freedom within a framework, and what better way to shape my career by giving myself a structure within which I can continue to play...forever. If you have an idea for making yet another [something] together, let me know.

Lessons Learned

This next section is pretty self-explanatory based on the title, but I wanted to take time to share conversations that I've regularly had about the journey so far.

Starting Warm

One of the first things I want to reflect on related to year one is the importance of "starting warm" (as opposed to "starting cold").

When people ask me how I was able to transition away from Slack and into the Studio, I'm honest about the fact that I had job offers (or offers in process) from other companies which I was excited about (in terms of the work), but knew I wasn't ready for (in terms of the work commitment). I shared these feelings with the respective hiring managers, explaining what I wanted to try with the Studio (as best as I understood it then) and asked if we could scope out a partnership that covered some of the potential work. I'm wildly grateful to Cristen Torrey (and the team) at Figma for taking a chance on me and being the best first partner I could ask for.

If you read other advice on how to start a new thing, there's often some version of "do something to de-risk it" which could be moonlighting, splitting your time, etc. In my case, I was already helping friends navigate the kinds of problems I do with the Studio, just for free and in my spare time. Towards the end of my time at Slack, I received increasing interest in help, and it was much easier to let go of one thing when I already had my hand on another.

Related to the idea of de-risking things, one policy that I have is "everyone gets one meeting." I am happy to talk to potential partners and even jam with them in ways that may look or feel like the work that we could do together to allow both parties to evaluate the fit of the partnership. I'm not in a rush to sign a contract and I want to make sure both of us know what we want out of the relationship.

The last thing I'll say here is that in addition to starting warm from a client perspective, I also "started warm" financially — I saved up and set aside ~ 9 months of living expenses. If I hadn't found work in 6 months, I'd start interviewing for jobs again, with a 3 month window find one. This massively reduced my cognitive and emotional burden to say yes, which I'll talk about towards the end.

Me-As-A-Service

The most important perspective shift I had to make in starting the Studio was recognizing that my business is effectively "Me-As-A-Service." I talk about the Studio in "we" terms in various places (for a number of reasons), but people are (at least right now) hiring me. This is as terrifying as it is empowering.

Let's start with the scary — it's all on me now. I'm responsible for finding work, doing (good) work, getting paid, and all the other aspects of running the business... not to mention taking care of my health and sanity. I went from a situation where I had teams of people taking care of each of those things to having all the responsibility. That part can be scary, not to mention that those of us who battle with imposter syndrome are about to have that cranked up to 11.

But, when I'm really honest, it's been much more empowering for me. I think that imposter syndrome is not my favorite framing for the experience of being in an environment where you have not yet leveraged your strengths, because the reality is that you're not an imposter anywhere you go — you're you, and you're the only one who can be you. When I take that perspective, I feel empowered to ask myself "what is it that I want to offer?" and do this from a place of strength and self-awareness. I am fortunate that I started working with a coach for months prior to starting the studio who helped me identify things that lay at the intersection of what I'm good at, what I find energy doing, and what other people ask me to do to build the core offering of the Studio.

The challenge for me was about converting those strengths and the things I wanted to offer into something that I could actually offer as a product/service - whether that's a talk, workshop, project, partnership or something else. Doing that required a lot more reflection and self awareness as I considered my own life rhythms, the ways I wanted to work with other people, the kinds of things I wanted to work on, and how I could talk about and sell that vision. Very thankfully, I'm friends with many of the kinds of people I'd love to work with and for, and many of them were incredible sounding boards as I worked through these ideas.

The final piece here that I'll share is the idea of "choosing your stress." So much of my work is oriented around the kinds of challenges that I want to take on. I know that not every partnership or project is going to go smoothly all the time, but as much as possible, I want to be facing challenges I'm excited about, not ones that are going to wear me down.

If you're considering an independent path, some of the questions I'd encourage you to reflect and write on are:

What is something that only you can do (or that you are uniquely qualified to do)? With that in mind, who should hire you, and why? What would that work look like?
What kind of work do you not want to do?
What do you want your days/weeks/months to look like?
What activities do you need to make space for that will allow you to continue to do the work you're excited about and proud of?

As a footnote, one thing the above questions helped me realize is that some of the ways I wanted to contribute to companies were better fits through angel investing or advising. This allowed me to say no to things that looked like a good fit, but weren't.

Playing vs Playbooks

I'm a framework and process person, which is great in some situations and absolutely miserable in others. Trying to operationalize something that's still being formed makes a lot less sense than simply putting up guardrails and helping it move more effectively in a direction. It was important for me to hold on to the idea that every client, project, and partnership would look different for a while as I learned my own rhythms and honed in on what I wanted to contribute and how.

While I had ideas about what the work would look like, the reality is much messier (and thankfully, much better). I tried my best to not lock myself into ways of thinking or ways of being early on, instead reflecting regularly about what was and wasn't working, what felt good (or didn't), and what I was drawn towards. I shared thoughts with friends, solicited feedback from partners, and wrote regularly to have a one-directional time machine to refer to.

One of Balsa’s core values is the idea of "planning versus plans," and in learning from them, I've co-opted their idea into playing versus playbooks. I've had to recognize that every situation is unique, and bringing an open mind and ways of being into a situation, rather than things to do, yields the best results. This isn't to say that I don't have consistent patterns in the work, but that force-fitting them into a situation is a fool's errand.

If nothing else, a principle to remind you to keep looking at things in a new way and asking what else may be possible is a good thing to keep you from being complacent.

Saying No

One of the most difficult things (for me, and probably many of you) is learning to say no. I tend to be reasonably good at holding an abundance mindset and fighting off scarcity, but that took a lot of work (thank you, Sunil) and continues to be a muscle I have to exercise.

As I mentioned in "starting warm," setting up a financial buffer to work from gave me immense privilege in looking for the right kind of work. I know that saying yes to the wrong projects can become a downward spiral of resenting the work, then doing poor quality work, then not getting the kinds of things you want in the future, and so on. On the flip side, saying no to projects that aren't the right fit opens you up for the work that will be.

Many projects sound good at the beginning, especially as they are being pitched to you. Part of my rule of "everyone gets one meeting" is allowing me to get past the optimism of the pitch and understand what I'm signing up for with more clarity. There are lots of projects that have come my way where the first meeting allowed us to realize one of a number of things:

I'm not a good fit for the project.
The project is actually a different scope than the client thinks.
The project, as it's written, is not worth doing (though maybe another one is).
One meeting was all they needed.

In most of these cases, I'm happy to help (within a reasonable degree) in steering them toward a better partner (if I know one). This means everyone goes home happy — I'm not doing work I shouldn't be, and the client gets what they need.

Derek Sivers' framing of "Hell Yeah or No" is a succinct guide to how I feel about projects. If I'm not stoked, I probably pass. Related, one fantastic exercise I did early on was make a list of "dream clients." I refer to this often and occasionally reach out to some of them where I think there may be a fit. Doing this pushed me to dream bigger and think about what's possible, not just in front of me.

Other Things of Note

One of the great questions I've been asked as I talk about the first year of the studio is "What would you have done differently?" (thanks Justin).

While "not start in the middle of a global pandemic" is a bit tongue in cheek, I also think it's almost completely wrong. I was planning for things to be difficult (in a very different way) and I think that learning how to operate in a difficult environment has been incredibly valuable (time will probably be the best just there).

Something I do think I would have done differently (and have started doing) is planning vacations well ahead of time and irrespective of my current/potential clients. If I'm going to run the Studio in a sustainable way, I need to make sure that I'm taking care of myself and know how to put on my oxygen mask before helping others.

Another thing I'd like to have done better is get other people involved. I'm very excited about how I'm opening up the practice, and I'm really looking forward to carving out more projects that allow me to bring on and learn from other talented friends. I'm in the process of redesigning the Studio website and look forward to more prominently sharing Friends of the Studio that I'd encourage everyone to partner with.

Thanks

If you've read this far, thank you. If you were hoping for more tips about how to start as an independent, I have a short video series coming out with Learners soon called "Going Solo" (which I'll link to and update the tense of this sentence with when it's ready). I really see the Studio as a vehicle by which I get to be myself, professionally, and I want that for more people. If I can help you do that in any way, please let me know.

Finally, there are a tremendous amount of people in my orbit with whom I could not made it this far. While I could write essays about each of them, I do want to acknowledge them here, so a massive thank you to Jim Lee, Kevin Hanaford, Kunal Tandon, Parteek Saran, Max Di Capua, Sunil Arora, Tom Critchlow, Eugene Kan, Vivianne Castillo, Alec Levin, Lena Blackstock, Colette Kolenda, Jan Chipchase, and everyone who hired me. I'm so grateful that I've made it to year two with your help.

Behzod Sirjani https://behzod.com