Interviews

The Skyrocket Series features Lift Off Alumni, where they were, and where they have come. (So far!) Packed with juicy information on everything from productivity to business law to what it’s really like to start a business, you’re going to love this series.

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Today, Kirsten Simmons of Rethink Productivity discusses productivity for people who think GTD stands for some kind of disorder, how psychology research influences productivity, and much more in this interview with Dusti Arab.

Listen to the interview here.

The following is part of a series wherein Megan Elizabeth Morris relates her experience of the Lift Off Retreat in autumn of 2011. Got questions you want to ask? Comment or email her here. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

One of my privileges while working for Productive Flourishing has been to coordinate Lift Off alumni interviews, so it was brilliantly easy for me to learn more about Lift Off from an attendee’s perspective when I started to seek out information. What I found was very strange, though: Nobody was saying anything bad. Or even *neutral*.

That’s weird, I thought.

I talked to Rachael Acklin and Heidi Dobbs, of course. And in between, I reached out to others not in the interview queue. I thought I’d get more varied perspectives that way, but all they did was gush. It really mattered, they said. It blew them away. They were delighted and surprised. They returned with raised energy, a sense that they weren’t alone, and tools to build. At some point, I gave up looking for negative viewpoints; Megan M, I said to myself, this is as close as you’re going to get to a sure thing. Most of the time, I don’t even believe in “a sure thing”.

But I signed up anyway.

About that time, I realized that I had no idea how to prepare for this experience. I ironed out the flight arrangements and made plans to stay with friends before and after the retreat so I could fly in earlier and fly out later — to get cheaper fare. I filled out a questionnaire that made me think hard about what was going on with Ideaschema and what I wanted to accomplish. It boggled my mind to try and answer the questions on it, but Charlie and Angela both reassured me that the feeling was totally normal. (A few weeks later, I realized my answers were all wrong. They told me that was normal, too!)

I waffled and whiffled and couldn’t shake my nervous. I wasn’t looking for a silver bullet — I don’t believe in silver bullets — but I felt like I badly needed a tipping point. I wanted Lift Off to be my tipping point, and I had no idea if I was hoping in the right direction.

I don’t remember the days leading up to my trip. I packed. I tried to let go of my worries.

My biggest fears: I was afraid they’d make me relax. I was afraid my plan wasn’t strong enough for anyone to help me with. I was afraid no one would know a damn thing about authors or publishing, and I’d be dead in the water, unable to USE the fantastic resource I’d paid for.

Could any of these things happen? Could all of them happen?

Up until I set foot on Lift Off Ground Zero — and honestly, probably not for another day and a half after I arrived — I had no idea what the impact of my decision might be.

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The following is part of a series wherein Megan Elizabeth Morris relates her experience of the Lift Off Retreat in autumn of 2011. Got questions you want to ask? Comment or email her here. This is the beginning.

Before I set foot on Lift Off Retreat territory — the territory was beautiful, by the way — I didn’t know much about it.

I coached with Charlie for nearly 2 years before Lift Off really made my radar, but when it did, it boomed. My business footing had been uncertain for long enough to make me nervous. When was all of this hard work going to pan out? Was I supposed to just keep doing what I was doing until it did?

And what if it didn’t?

Let me tell you about Ideaschema for a moment.

Ideaschema’s my primary project, even considering the other wonderful projects I have my hands in. Ideaschema was created to be whatever I needed it to be: An umbrella company to help me accomplish my Great Work, to help as many people as possible, and to express myself creatively to the universe. We were doing creative work for great clients — some community-oriented marketing, lots of illustrated materials and promotions. But Ideaschema was still supposed to be a reflection of everything going on inside my head, and that was… a lot.

You might have already concluded that Ideaschema’s messaging was suffering a bout of extreme vagueness. I’d long made peace with no one knowing what I did for a living, and we were sputtering along okay. But the vagueness wasn’t clearing up on its own the way I’d hoped. I was about to make a break for what appeared to be a clearing up ahead: Book promotions for authors and publishers.

And I only knew a few of those.

This was an initiative based mostly on hypothetical string & sealing wax. We’d done a few projects (for free) to test the waters. Our community seemed to love them. The whole thing sounded okay when I told myself about it.

That’s all the feedback I had, however.

I had no idea if it would really work, and I had gone too long without respite. I needed stable footing fast if I was going to maintain my sanity and stay the solopreneurial path. I needed this thing to work. I needed support, and some (small) degree of certainty.

I was thinking about hoofing it alone (as usual). But I’d done that for a decade, and I had to admit I was tired of just sticking it out. I was afraid, and I still felt alone. I needed something big, something new, and something that was highly likely to work.

What the hell was that going to be?

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