What Niche Really Means

My husband has unwittingly helped me see what it really means to have a niche in coaching and writing. In the past, I have asked him to review marketing materials as well as articles that I'm working on. He has always been polite and reserved with his input--commenting more on the grammar rather than the feel, the conciseness rather than the content. I asked him to review an article in progress, entitled, "Ten Tips for Better Living." He came back a few minutes later with the following feedback: "It sounds like you." I looked at him, hoping to hear some type of approval that I was on the right track, that what I had to say was meaningful. "And?" "Well, your stuff all sounds the same..."

At that moment, I got it. This is a man who would not be my ideal coaching client, who would not subscribe to my newsletter, who in no way would be part of my target audience. And that's okay.(He has often joked with me, that he doesn't know what it is I do for a living but whatever it is, I'm the best at it.)

So as long as *somebody* is drawn to me as a coach or to my writing, that's all that matters. (If no one was drawn to me as either a coach or a writer, I could safely assume that I'm a crummy coach and writer.) I've gotten plenty of feedback from others who love what I write and who love how I present myself on my website to know that I have a market. It just happens that my husband is not part of that market. I have a brand, a voice that consistently appeals to a group of people. I don't have to appeal to anyone else.

So having a niche is as much about NOT appealing to a group of people (like my husband) as it is about attracting a specific type of person.

Thanks, honey, for helping me see what it really means to have a niche.

Mission Accomplished

Three things happened this week to make me grateful for the good health that I enjoy. First, I attended a monthly meeting of my local International Coach Federation chapter, the Boulder Coaches Alliance. This is the place where coaches gather to network and learn from each other. It's also a great way for coaches, used to working over the phone, to see some live faces. The theme of this month's meeting was Energy--what it's like when you are in flow, what happens when you are out of the flow, and how do you get it back. During the meeting, we alternated between activities that got us "into our body" with physical movement, including dance, and dialogue in small groups. At the end of the meeting, I asked participants what they had learned about energy during the course of the evening. One comment in particular caught my attention. A middle aged woman, the sort of person you would expect to prefer a cruise ship vacation over a trek in Tibet, spoke. "I'm grateful for my body. It does what I ask it to do."

We aren't talking about Ironman triathlete. We're talking about someone who realizes the significance of being able to move her body on a daily basis and everything works without a glitch.

Yesterday, I met with a colleague who had taken a fall last year and was still using a cane for support. I had not seen her in months and when I asked how the leg was, I could tell she was pissed. Despite physical therapy, time, and nightly applications of some "growth" medicine to promote healing where her body had not done it on her own, she was still limping. Her body was clearly not doing what she was asking it to do.

And then today, another colleague described to me how she had lost mobility after she developed problems with her knees. She also had lost stamina to do the things she wanted to do. She could no longer take the long walks that are so good for mental and physical health. I sensed her yearning to once again be able to move with ease.

We are pretty lucky when our body does what we ask it to do. It's a good thing when the spaceship launches, does its mission, and comes back to earth. For some, having their body do exactly what they want it to do is as far-reaching as going to the moon and back. I smile now when I realize, "Mission accomplished."

Three Questions

I discovered a new blog today, written by Hanna Cooper. Discovering a new blog with lots of good stuff is bit like finding a new friend.

Hanna has a posting about a children's story that asks three simple questions:

• When is the best time to do things?
• Who is the most important one?
• What is the right thing to do?

These three questions helped me get through a situation where I found myself stewing about the right thing to do. I was surprised at how the answers guided me so simply, yet so powerfully. Try it out for a sticky issue in your life and let me know what happens.

Radical Change

My husband and I have come to the conclusion that when it comes to long-standing issues that cause us both aggravation, it's worth it to try radical change instead of a small tweak. So it was with the question of "What's for dinner?"--probably the three most dreaded words on a weekday at 5pm in any family.

I got the idea of radical change from a Fast Company magazine article, entitled Change or Die. The article dispels myths on how people make personal changes, even when keeping the status quo could lead to death. The author cites examples from the health care industry of trying to changing patient behavior after a heart attack. The results are surprising. Well, I won't spoil the article for you but here's one point the article makes:

Radical, sweeping changes are often easier to make and sustain than small, gradual changes because they quickly yield benefits.

So back to the "What's for dinner?" issue. For years, we had tried to plan out menus at the beginning of the week, assign role and responsibilities for specific days to cook and for grocery shopping, and become more innovative with recipes. Nothing worked. It only got worse with two kids who have become pickier eaters as they've gotten older. (I thought it was supposed to get better as kids matured....)

So we tried something completely new--a service that does the shopping, menu planning, and cleanup (Supper Solutions). Our family goes to a local commercial kitchen to assemble ingredients and get cooking instructions. One hour later, we have 12 meals in baggies, ready for freezing or stacking in the fridge for the week. The commercial kitchen is sunny, air-conditioned, and with plenty of measuring cups and spoons, bowls, spices, and anything else we might need. No one gets upset if you mess up a recipe and have to start over again. You never run out of ingredients. My husband and I split up, working with one son each, and go to different stations to assemble Pecan Chicken or Bourbon Steak. We get free drinks and snacks while we do our work. No longer is it Mom or Dad's job to cook. Our kids seem to eat alot more stuff when they have a hand in making the meal. And all this for about the same price as the old way, the hard way. If I sound excited, it's because I am!

So hooray for radical change! Try it out on something that's been bugging you for years and tell me what happens.

The Power of Asking

I'm struck this morning by the power of asking for help. Two instances over the course of the last few days:

• A colleague of mine sent me an email about how she had lost touch with a dear friend from high school several years ago. I could tell that she felt badly about this "lost friend" situation and that she had a deep desire to reconnect. In the course of a conversation we had last week, my colleague realized that we were the same age (44) and that I had gone to the same university as her dear friend (Northwestern University). She hoped that I might know of her friend (I did not) or be able to access contact information through the alumni association. It was an easy on-line lookup for me and in a few minutes, I was writing my colleague with the phone number and address of her long lost friend. She wrote back a minute later to tell me how excited she was to have this information. It was as if a miracle had just occurred. And all she had to do was ask. So this brings me to:
  >>>>Lesson Number 1 : The answer may be more easily within reach than you think.
  
  
• This morning, I read posts from an on-line group for coaches, www.coactivenetwork.com. Coaches were responding to a colleague's request for prayers for her sister, who had just unsuccessfully attempted a long-planned suicide, after many years of chronic pain. The original request was posted yesterday and since then, there has been a flood of postings responding to this request--prayers for this woman's sister and her family, candles lit, and blessings all around. What surprised me is what else these postings were about--gratitude for being part of this on-line community, acknowledging the leadership and courage it took to ask for help, similar stories that others were struggling with, and how this request was pointing others in the community to places they needed to look at in their own lives. >>>>Lesson Number 2: Asking for help is a gift to others, in ways that you cannot imagine.

One more story: I am on the board for a local non-profit group. This board has been struggling over the last couple of months. Among other things, a subset of board members working on a special project has been approaching burnout. While one of the members on this special project had asked if I had wanted join the project, I didn't realize the depth of the need. It didn't become apparent to me how burdensome this special project had become until a board meeting last week. One board member, close to tears, described the heavy weight of this project on her shoulders. Another board member talked about her inability to devote enough time to the project on a continuous basis. At the end of the meeting, the board agreed on an action item to address the situation: Ask for help. This brings up questions for me on the fine line of rescuing and responding to a plea for help, hearing the plea, and being specific about the help you want. That's another post for another day.

Lessons from the Kitchen

Yesterday, I decided to make baked potatoes as part of the family dinner. Small, Yukon gold potatoes, large enough to give that great carb fullness in your stomach, small enough to feel comfortable eating two in one sitting. One hour and 40 minutes later, when the rest of dinner was ready on the backyard grill, I stuck my hand in the oven to gather the golden nuggets. A few seconds later, I was hit with exploding spuds. Bits of potato covered my clothes, glasses (thank goodness that years of poor eyesight ensures a form of safety goggles during my waking hours), and oddly enough, based on a stinging sensation, my throat. There was a splattering of spuds on the floor and in the oven. The laws of physics take no prisoners, objects both living and inanimate subject to the same oven-hot trajectories.

My husband and kids ran into the kitchen, not sure what had caused me to squeal in such a high pitch. My husband looked at me, at a loss of words except for this: "It's in your hair." It was the equivalent of saying in the aftermath of a tornado, "The petunia plants are a bit torn." For all I knew, there could be a red gaping hole in my throat. Help! I may never be able to speak again!

Okay, drama aside, I was much better after a shower. My husband finished preparing dinner and I got to thinking how the exploding spud could be a metaphor in life. Instead of making lemonade from lemons, I'm making mashed potatoes out of over-cooked spuds.

What's the hot potato that's ready to explode in your life? And what will you deal with first in the cleanup, when the mess is everywhere?