I recently got put on a list. Always feels a bit weird, but deep down I dig it. It was for the inaugural Creative Sydney – 100 Creative Catalysts. I’m on there for “Bringing together Australia’s hip hop communities through Stealth“.
Doing cultural stuff – entrepreneurial cultural stuff – can feel like a lonely pursuit. Lots of late nights, no sleep, little money… for years. I did what I did because I loved it. For me, Stealth was self-expression, a creative pursuit, but I felt inspired by the idea that I could help people, connect people, and provide a platform for the underdog. The thing is, when you do media, it can feel like everybody wants something, like every conversation has an agenda. My agenda was always self-expression, not fame – the difference is something I think I can pick quite quickly in upcoming writers.
So, this bit of recognition – I dig it. It’s like the time I opened my mail and found that New York City Library wanted to subscribe to my magazine. And the time I was in a bookshop reading about youth subculture and saw a quote from something I’d written. Sincere and unexpected.
I was going to talk at the Epic Fail event for Creative Sydney. I put some loose thoughts together but ran out of energy, time and headspace to do it justice. Here’s what I was going to talk about…
1. You actually can do anything
I released my first issue of Stealth in June 1999. Ten years ago. I was 21 at the time. But I actually started getting the issue together over 6 months prior. I was at uni, earning $150 a week working in a digital agency, sharing a single bed with my MRS. I taught myself how to use Microsoft Publisher, then Quark, to lay out the magazine. I managed to find a printer who had affection for hip hop and said that he’d print my first issue for whatever money I could raise. I think I raised $1100 or so. I had no idea what I was doing. But when I put my original media kit together I seriously thought, “Why wouldn’t a company want to advertise in this?” Within a few years, the magazine went full colour and was distributed in over 10 countries.
Lesson: Blind faith and commitment are incredibly powerful
2. Starting is most people’s problem
I’ve been fortunate enough to know a lot of smart people. They all have ideas… or an idea that they’d like to do their own thing. They just don’t know where to start. To them, I’d always say “Start at the beginning”. The ‘beginning’ is who you are: knowing what you’re about at that moment in time, what you’re interested in. Yes, what you’re about will change but if you forever wait until you’re ready, you won’t act.
Lesson: Take a stance for what you’re about now and act
3. Passion and action are magnetic
So, now, I work in advertising. And, between Stealth and my time in adland, I’ve come to realise the currency of confidence. It gets you jobs. It keeps you in jobs. But it’s tough work – and escapes you frequently. Thing is, a lot of people wish they could do – and are attracted to people who do. That’s the cynical take on things. The sincere take on it is that when you get off your rear and do something, a lot of good people will actually help.
Lesson: Build it and people will help – you don’t have to be lonely
4. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder
I spent a lot of time on each issue of my magazine. I kept a loose count once and I think I got to something stupid like 600 hours – selling advertising, doing the layout, writing, emailing, packing subscriptions, sticking CDs to the cover, updating the website. But I was never happy with an issue. I still feel I have unfinished business.
Lesson: It’s OK to be imperfect because others don’t judge what you do like you do
5. Perfectionism torments
When is ‘good enough’ good enough … to go to sleep, to stop thinking about it all?
Lesson: Stop obsessing – your tomorrow will be happier for it
6. Your idea can become you
Through my early 20s I was doing freelance web, design and writing work – in addition to Stealth and various events I put on. And as I got to the point where I thought that Australia was just not the place for what I wanted to do, it took me a few years to detach myself from my idea. It was what I’d done my entire adult life. It was my social life, my network. It hurt to move on. I felt like I was compromising who I was. I was scared.
Lesson: Keep healthy ties with people completely unrelated to your idea
7. Nothing ever goes to plan – especially when you don’t have one
My granddad always asked me what my plan was. I didn’t know. I was still a kid. I just knew that I dug what I was doing. I wasn’t doing it for money. In fact, I was anti-money. I didn’t like commercialism – despite selling my magazine.
Lesson: Make a plan – on one page if you can
8. Burnout and depression suck
The pattern for each issue I made was ‘obsessive making’ followed by low times. A lack of sleep (I’d sleep 3-4 hours a night for months) and stressing about imaginary deadlines and money will do that to you. Having said that, independent magazines are a tough business. For instance, we used to distribute through Tower Records worldwide. When I sent them an issue they’d actually send back a cheque for 50% of the value of the magazine. This was utterly rare. Most distributors paid 3-6 months after an issue was taken off the shelf (ie 6-9 months after I published an issue). I was trying to be quarterly so, in theory, I had to cover 2-3 issues before getting paid for the first. Also, I wanted to fit a lot of words into the magazine so the font was really small… this created a lot of additional work.
Lesson: Keep it simple and realistic, don’t over-commit, and don’t beat yourself up
9. Sharing ideas is hard
I wish I could have shared Stealth with someone… I mean, the dream of Stealth. I think my identity got too tied up in it to share it. It was also hard to find people with business acumen and an understanding of the culture – and that didn’t want to pimp it.
Lesson: Solo is tough; take a risk on good people
10. It’s easy to get your foot in the door in Australia – but then what?
I’ve written for free for soooo many magazines. Anyone who was doing something with integrity, who shared a similar ideal – I used to give them content for free. America, England, Canada, Korea, Japan. Every now and then, one of the magazines overseas I was involved with seemed to grow big – like publish regularly, have big advertisers and distributors. It made me think I was spending too much time in the wrong country. The scale wasn’t here. Blind faith can only carry you so far in Australia. I don’t know who to blame but I want to blame someone – just because that’s a normal human reaction.
Lesson: Think beyond Australia – or be content that your cultural pursuit may just be a hobby
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