55 of these things. Can you believe that? 55. Month after month.
How to keep the drive alive? This is the question that rattles through my empty head as the years roll on with Foster Focus. Are the endless hours in front of the computer worth all the effort and lack of life? When you get worn out, it can be tough to do pretty much anything, let alone the thing you are supposed to be doing. The work ethic, whether it is being practiced or not, is still there, maybe under the surface in times of angst. I’m full of angst. I’ve always been this way.
The quick definition of angst is; a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically an unfocused one about the human condition or the state of the world in general.
Take that definition, add the pressure of running a national magazine on your own, with existing mental issues and just for fun, throw in a marriage and three kids. That’s my life. That’s the epitome of the cause of angst. Before that foster care was the source of my angst…I kind of miss THAT. (That’s not wholly true but I’ll explain that later.)
So despite my angst, I’ve trudged on month in and month out since 2011. Never a martyr, I happily handle everything short of the print and subscription fulfillment, not out of some kind of self-serving, look what I can do, reason. The reason I handle everything on my own is simple; if this ship sinks, it’ll because I’m a terrible Captain. More important than the magazine being a success is that no one but me takes the blame if should flop like a dead fish on a boat deck at some point. I want that weight to fall on me. That’s how it should be. My idea, my money, my time, if it fails, it’s on me. Add that to the angst pile.
Motivation has never been a problem for me. It’s an unexplainable personal relationship I have with myself that allows me to not need to be motivated by anyone. I am surrounded by motivational speakers and I see how they work a room, how they truly inspire people…I’m not one of those people. I am an observer of the human condition (Holy pretentious sentence Batman!) and maybe too self-aware for my own good. I’m not overly sensitive and my skin as thick as San Francisco fog. All of this makes me a cynic when it comes to motivation. Those posters in the guidance counselor’s office? Did nothing for me. Those positive memes on Facebook? Lost on me. I’m already ready to go. I know what needs done and I know that I am the one who will have to do it. I already know this; I don’t need someone else to tell me. That being said, I really enjoy watching and listening to motivational speakers. I appreciate them for the art of controlling a room and delivering their message. It’s just that I’m already revved up, so my take away from their talent is different than the rest of the crowd.
So I’m scared and I’m motivated. Is that the formula to keep going? Maybe, but I think you need more ingredients.
What about duty? How does that factor in? Most advocates work out of a sense of duty. They feel they owe the kids who are in care everything they have as far as being a voice goes. Foster parents feel a duty to protect and care for the kids in their homes. Former foster kids feel the need to protect those kids who are currently in the system. But let’s go a little further than that. Some (most) of us grew up poor, there is a duty to not repeat that for our current families (or self) that is inherited from that upbringing. I have a feeling that those of us who break our backs to succeed are merely trying to ensure that they never return to any semblance of a tough life. For me, (outside of the magazine) easy breezy is the life for me. I prefer a drama free, honest existence, more than likely because it’s the opposite of what life was like when things were tough. But the work? Maybe the work is done out of a sense of duty to my family, to the folks who believe in me, the people who benefit from the information in the magazine but maybe I’m trying to appease that kid who had to live off 7 dollars a week allowance while in care. I never want to be looked at the way people looked at me back then.
What about the money? There’s no real money in this. After print and mailing costs I make less now than I did when I sold cars, so it’s not that……STOP! Case in point about what I’ve been writing about. I started this column about a week and a half ago and just didn’t feel like finishing it until now. I don’t know why really. Did I get caught up in the other work of the magazine? Maybe. Did I just lose interest? Not sure. I knew I would have to come back around to finish it, maybe I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal? If it gets done, then what’s the harm? Flawed thinking on my part.
Fact is; this gig could be hard as hell for anyone but me. I’ve got the makeup for it. It probably stems from the years I spent dreaming of running this thing. If you ever get the chance to talk to anyone who knew me in the last fifteen years, they’ll tell you that I talked about this way back when. Anyone near me who would listen, really. I’d tell them how I planned to start a small monthly magazine to fill the void I saw in the world. I would grow that small magazine into a national publication that people could depend on. I’d make that national magazine the number one place for foster care news and information anywhere. I’d parlay that achievement, to making the magazine a place where top tier writers and bestselling authors would want to share their work. With the credibility of those writers I would improve the look of the magazine and garner more readers. I saw all of this before it happened. And I told everyone.
I haven’t done everything I set out to do yet. Maybe that’s where the drive comes from. I need to see this thing all the way through, to the point where it becomes too much for me to handle. I’m not there yet. The magazine has grown and grown. The reach has gone from a few hundred interested folks, thousands of dedicated readers. Many of them have been with me from the start. They endured late issues, I mean super late issues, errors and typos, blurry pictures and newsletter-like quality in the first year. As I come up on the 5-year anniversary of the debut, I’m getting nostalgic for a simpler time when I thought no one was reading Foster Focus. I was carefree and stressed out of my mind at the same time.
There was a look I’d get back them, back when I started handing out the first issue. It was a mixed look. It was a look of astonishment that a goof like me found the follow through to make the magazine. A look of confusion as to why I would start a magazine when the rest of the world was convinced that print was making its death rattle. The last bit of the look is one of pride, this is my favorite part, especially from people who have known me for a long time. I dig that they’re proud of me.
Strangely enough, with all the good, I still don’t feel like doing any of it sometimes. I think everyone gets like that. Whether you are doing something you love or not, it’s easy to get sick of repetition, of chasing the same carrot, of hearing the same thing day in and day out. It’s tough sometime but it’s better than working for someone else. If it sounds like I’m complaining, I apologize, I’m grateful as hell for being lucky enough to do something of value, something of my own creation, but 55 times?!?! Come on! Even Louis C.K. gets sick of hearing his own jokes! Okay that’s enough of that.
The thing that drives me, is the thing that drives you; the kids. My kids, your kids, the 400,000 plus kids currently residing in the foster care system. We do it for them. Because they can’t do it for themselves yet. And still, from the beginning, I have worked on my own, turning down free money (I’ll take money if it goes to free subscriptions or advertising), working hard to explain to foster care entities why they should advertise their services in the magazine, growing the product at my own pace and carving out my spot in the field, so the next kid with a big idea knows they can pull it off, regardless of their financial standing. Growing this thing with minimal resources is probably what I’m most proud of. I’ll carry that with me long after this is over.
Well that was one hell of a depressing column wasn’t it? My bad. With reflection comes some growing pains. I’m happy to be the sunny shiny Editor, but on occasion all the work catches up with me. I’ve got no coworkers, you guys are it. So consider this particular column our after work drinks at the bar. You’ll have to use your imagination on this one because I don’t drink nor do I ever end up in a bar.
To sum it up; (Forrest Gump voice “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go home now.”) I’m going to wrap up this issue and take a few days off (another perk of running your own business) to get reaqquainted with my kids and my wife. Then I’ll jump right back in the mix. I’ll be refreshed and the sunny shiny Editor you’ve come to know and tolerate. This is a great issue, packed with great articles that you’ll really enjoy.
That’s been the goal for the last 55 issues and it’s the goal for the next 55 more. After that it’s a crapshoot!
"Showmanship, George. When you hit that high note, say goodnight and walk off."
~Jerry Seinfeld
Owner/Editor - Chris Chmielewski