There’s a bit of buzz on twitter.

It’s about Free.

No, not freedom. But free—as in whether we, the self-employed, should even think about taking a non-paying gig.

On her blog, Susan Murphy tackles The Culture of Free and offers up compelling thoughts about what needs to change (and why it needs to). Susan makes especially insightful comments, too, about entitlement and about managing time—and your clients’ expectations.

All of which brought me to a post by Nancy Kenny called The Value of Me.

With thought-provoking references to money, self-worth and the courage it takes to ask for compensation, Nancy struck a chord that should resonate with all freelancers.

But what hit home was the clear, unequivocal stand that Nancy took vis-a-vis her perception of money and the role it played in her life. It’s not often that someone speaks so plainly, so concisely, about this kind of stuff. And it left me wondering; how many of us have done that, addressed our beliefs about money?

Meanwhile, getting back to the question, the business theorists—the number-loving analysts—might quickly suggest we all consult some sort of bell-curve chart with a formal-sounding title like; Earning Expectations for Self-employed Entrepreneurs…

However, I know (believe me, I really know) that the problem with such an analysis is it assumes that business people all—and always—act with clear-thinking logic and analytical decisiveness.

But as Nancy so evocatively demonstrated, for most of us, there’s an internal debate that gets played out, day-in, day-out. A debate about self-worth, about doubt, about what will people think.

And, let’s face it, as much as business theory likes to assume we’re all robotic automatons—modern-day Mr. Spocks forever making decisions based on analysis and reason, the truth is we’re a walking, talking sack of neurons, emotions, feelings and perceptions, and it’s from that pile of primal goo  that many of our decisions originate.

So should we work for free?

To arrive at an answer, maybe we should start by addressing our individual sense of self-worth and our own personal relationship with money. I’m guessing if we do that, and do it successfully, we’ll find that the answer is, quite often, fuhgeddaboutdit.

Whether you you agree, disagree, or think this whole “free” thing is no big deal, I’d love hearing from you. Please let me know what you think by clicking the Comment link to the right of this post’s title.

Thanks.

Bob Dylan said it more than 40 years ago, the times they are a-changin’

(And yes, I’m aware this is the second consecutive post that kicks off with a Dylan reference. What can I say? I’m in a Dylan kinda mood).

But it seems Dylan was wrong. Or optimistic.

Overly prophetic, perhaps.

Because, maybe then, when Dylan sang those words, he wasn’t singing for members of his generation.

But members of today’s.

Your generation…

We’ve just come through an epoch of uncurbed, unparalleled greed.

Unhindered hubris ironically cultivated by none other than representatives of Dylan’s generation (of which I lag behind by fifteen-odd years).

And, believing we had no voice—no choice

We let it happen.

And maybe, like Network’s Howard Beale, we were “As mad as hell.”

But maybe, at the same time, we didn’t know what to do about it.

But maybe now—maybe finally—there is a way.

Maybe, now, as Dave Carroll so evocatively illustrated, the times they are–indeed–a-changin’

And..

Maybe, now, the practice and habits of unmonitored business greed, unchecked CEO ego, and indifferent corporate insularity, can finally be exorcised.

With the power of social media, with tools like Twitter and Youtube,

There exists, today, that ability—that puissance—to say “Enough.”

To speak out against what’s wrong.

And for what is right.

To rally the cyber-troops.

To start a trend.

To tell big business, big government and big banking; we ain’t happy and we expect better.

You can effect change

With one catchy tweet.

One viral youtube post.

Maybe, now, thanks to social media, the times they are a-changin’

Use your power wisely.

There’s a line in Dylan’s It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)

That goes, “Money doesn’t talk, it swears.”

Though I was seventeen when I first heard it—and I haven’t heard it in ten, maybe thirteen, years—it came to me this morning.

Does that happen to you? Awaking to snippets of songs jangling in your head?

No?

Well, anyway…

The lyrics came to me, I guess, because of this post.

This post about another type of voice.

Not a singing one, this one.

More a foreboding one.

Dire, maybe. Pleading, even.

It’s a voice that, I believe, we all heard growing up.

And, it’s a voice we may have adopted now, perhaps as we address our children.

It’s a voice about money.

It’s a voice cementing our beliefs about money.

And it’s a phrase that, because we heard it from such a young age, we just accepted as true.

You know what I mean?

A mantra spoken over and over, often as an epilogue to a financial request.

“Waddya think, money grows on trees?”

“What am I, made of money?”

Or, one of my favourites,

“Yes they might have money, but are they happy?”

If you chuckled as at any of that, it’s likely because you heard the voice too.

But, have you ever paused to consider the impact of that voice? Of those words?

I sometimes do it with friends, family—or clients, even.

Especially when they confide about their business’s dismal (or surprisingly, at times, uncomfortably lavish) financial state.

I ask them to remember that voice, recall its warning—in heavy, apprehensive tones—about the role of money.

And I then ask whether they still believe the voice (most do).

(Which, by the way, is another, important, reason I keep saying that it’s not about the money, but, rather, the discernment—the perception—of money).

You can make a game of it too.

Sit with friends and compare those voices.

See what comes out.

Then, later, laugh about it.

Shake your head.

But remember; those voices—and the words they relayed—are embedded. Deep down.

And many times, they still carry influence.

Leaving you to wonder why you can’t stop from picking up every penny lying by the wet, dirty curb… (A penny saved is a penny earned…. Look after the pennies and the dollars will look after themselves).

Or what compelled you to buy both an iPhone and an iPod Touch… (Oh you, money’s always burning a hole in your pocket).

Well, anyway…

Here’s what I’d like to do.

Have a contest.

I’ll give away a free book (my book, The Net Present Value of Life—in case you’re wondering) to the person who posts the funniest, or most thought-provoking, comment about money. It’s ideally something you heard while growing up. Maybe something a parent said when you asked for money. Or a line a family member recited over and over. Or maybe something you, quite simply, overheard. Please remember, as best you can, to put your reply in context.

Oh yes, the rules:

i) Contest starts today and ends on March 5, 2010 at 5:00PM (Eastern Canada time,  GMT -5)

ii) Contest open to all residents of Canada, USA, UK and Europe with an easily accessible postal address

iii) Prize to be delivered to the lucky winner via regular parcel post (delivery could take a few weeks)

iii) Lucky winner agrees to be identified (name and city/country of residence) in a blogpost, or other social media

iv) Lucky winner also agrees their comment may, at my discretion, be used in a blogpost or other social media

v) Contest is completely subjective and winning entry is selected by yours truly, based on the entry that makes me laugh the hardest, or gets me to ruminate the most

vi) There is but one winning entry. No prizes for runners up, or runners of runners up…

Is that okay? Fair enough?

Good luck.

You know the facts of life, right?

No, not those facts.

The other ones.

The ones that tell us how to live an enriching, successful, and happy life.

It doesn’t take long before they’re hard-coded,

And we accept them as true.

We believe them,

Get a great job; move up the corporate ladder, make lots of money, buy stuff—lots of stuff.

Is that what life’s about?

Many believe it to be.

Not me. Not anymore.

I decided to disbelieve them…

Beliefs…

I never thought about them much. Until I realized that beliefs are the OS of our subconscious—they are the  programs that drive behaviour.

Beliefs, I learned, are what guide us. What influence us.

And yet, it wasn’t often that I stopped to pay attention to my fundamental beliefs.

That’s because they were hidden—buried—way deep, way down below the mundane stuff.

You know what I mean, right?

Those nattering inner voices that go something like, “Gee, I wonder what’s for supper?”

Or, “Man, if that dork doesn’t wrap up his presentation, I’m seriously pulling the plug on that projector.”

Beliefs. They’re always getting crowded out by that superficial stuff…

Way back, in a prior post, I suggested that I’d put it out there. Share my beliefs. Offer them up. In search of common ground.

So here goes. Here’s what I believe. Here are my 10 facts of life:

I believe; life is intended to be easy and uncomplicated. When it’s not, it’s because we’re the ones gumming up the works.

I believe; life is meant to be fun, impromptu, relished; celebrated. Not shielded, boxed, planned and mapped out to the minutest detail.

I believe; there is danger in living a careful life.

I believe; there’s little value in most of society’s notions of a happy life.

I believe; life is more magical than it is logical and structured.

I believe; life is ripe with possibility and potential, not laden with limits and boundaries.

I don’t believe; in thinking outside the box. I believe; there is no box.

I believe; the key ingredients to a happy life include health, relationships, purpose, curiosity and adventure.

I believe; a whole pile of money is not a key ingredient for a happy life.

I believe; to experience true meaningful lives, we must always believe in ourselves

And now…

Would you care to share your beliefs, your facts of life?

I had a blast, and

If you were there, I hope you did too.

The book got launched and folk came out to support the effort.

All in all.

Great fun.

Here are just a few pictures.

Here’s a quick peek at the first two chapters of The Net Present Value of Life.

Like any author, I’d like you to read my book. Like any reader, you’ve got a decision to make—deciding whether the book’s worth the investment. If not in dollars, certainly in time.

A book is a gamble, isn’t it? Choose wrong and a reader feels cheated, expending time and effort in a failed venture, a doomed relationship… The characters render phoney, the plot’s wooden, and the overall experience just plain unfortunate.

But that’s the downside, and I prefer—for obvious reasons—to envision the opposite.

I’ve read a number of great books by unknown authors (well, at least, at the time, unknown to me), John Nichols’ The Sterile Cuckoo, Vincent Patrick’s Pope of Greenwich Village and James Kirkwood’s P.S. Your Cat is Dead are just three examples.

(And in case you’re thinking, “The nerve of this guy, comparing himself with those authors,” well forgive me, but I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’m simply trying to capture an emotion, describe a feeling—a memory—that stays with me still).

What I mean to say is, I love the euphoria of reading someone I never met deliver something I never expected. And I love when a new (new to me, remember) and unknown author’s work resonates for weeks after that last page is turned. For inexplicable, and, perhaps, unimportant, reasons, it fills me with pride, reading something like that. It’s almost as though I discovered the author all on my own. And I can’t wait to tell everyone I know about my successful discovery—Miguel Syjuco’s Ilustrado, by the way, is having that very effect on me right now.

What’s odd, however, is, as much as I always remember the excitement of reading an undiscovered gem, what I can never recall—the event too cloudy, the memory too faded away, worse than an old photograph—is what led me to buy it in the first place.

Was it the book’s cover? The title? Its placement on a store’s bookshelf? Or was it simply a hunch—that indescribable, unfathomable, gut feeling that every so often steers us all in the right direction?

I don’t remember, but I wish I did.

Because now, all these years later, it might have been important.

Because now, as I said in my first sentence, I’d like you to read my book. And maybe now, if I could somehow capture what led me to take a chance on any of those unknown writers, I could then fashion an analogy in order to, perhaps, inspire you to buy this unknown author’s unknown novel.

And so, and so, and so.

Here we are, once more, at the beginning.

You’re looking for a book, and I’m looking for a reader.

Hey, what the hay…. Why not take a chance?

It’s different things for different people.

It’s often different things for me too.

But this morning, it was this review, that I picked up off the Chapters Indigo website.

It truly did put a smile on my face.

In yesterday’s post, I mentioned being asked why I wrote The Net Present Value of Life.

However, the question I hear more regularly is, “What’s the book about?”

A simple enough question, of course. But one that I, somehow, find curious—and troubling.

Maybe it’s because I’m not a pro at these types of things, but I often find myself stumbling and balking, and having difficulty in providing a succinct, to-the-point response—what the experts call my elevator speech.

And it’s doubly difficult if my intention is to be, not only, succinct but interesting too.

But the question always comes up, “What’s the book about?”

A simple question, yes. But I over-think it, and end up wondering…

Should I be literal and tell the story about a frustrated, disillusioned 40 year-old businessman and the much older, not to mention infinitely wiser, Englishwoman who befriends him?

Should I be editorial and provide a verbal synopsis, complete with plot, characterization, conflict and resolution?

Or should I be philosophical and talk about the book’s attempt to reframe society’s perception of success, purpose, happiness—not to mention the book’s views on business, money and retirement?

I mean, what does it mean when someone asks, “So, what’s the book about?”

And how do I answer that in less than 30 seconds, without boring the questioner to tears?

Acchh, this writing gig is not as easy as it looks…

I need practice. Lots of it, probably.

And so, if you don’t mind, allow me a few passes at the question…

Q: “What’s the book about?”

A: The book describes a frustrated man, forty-two, who’s fed up with his job, regrets his career choice, and wants to find his true calling. He; however, doesn’t really know what his true calling is and, even if he knew that, he‘d still have no clue where to begin. One day he meets a woman who gives him the answers he needs. The only thing is he doesn’t like her answers (they conflict with his hard-coded business-biased principles and beliefs). And, to make it worse, he soon discovers that this enigmatic Englishwoman has an even more mysterious past. Who the hell is she anyway?

How’s that sound? Great? A little compelling? Total yawn?

Let me try again.

Q: “What’s the book about?”

A: The book is an entertaining allegory about careers, business and life in the 21st century. It describes a host of off-beat characters, including a a mysterious Englishwoman, a frustrated businessman, a brown-nosing coworker  and a greedy, corrupt corporate wheeler-dealer. On one level, then, the book makes for an absorbing—even funny—read. On another level though, it calls into question—and subjects to scrutiny—all those premises that we in western society accept as true. Beliefs about careers, purpose, money, retirement and, of course, the key to a happy life.

How about that? Does that draw you in?

Alright then, one more time…

Q: “What’s the book about?”

A: Oh man, it’s great. You’ll love it, especially if you have to work for a living. You should buy it. It’s great!

Well, that last one, at least, was succinct…

I’m not big on experts.

Don’t listen to ‘em much.

Not big on conventional wisdom either.

Too skewed, I think,

And overused.

When wisdom transforms into convention,

That, to me, signals check-out time.

Conventional wisdom, to my mind, needs an overhaul.

It’s outdated, outmoded.

Old.

Mostly wrong, too.

Conventional wisdom is herd thinking.

And when the herd begins to move in one direction.

It’s time, I believe, to head the other way.

I’m often asked what prompted me to write the Net Present Value of Life.

I wish there was a simple answer.

In truth, I remember no rational thought process—no illuminated lightbulb—that led me to say, “I know, I’ll write a novel.”

All I know is I began to jot down ideas.

And then, I was writing a book.

I also remember that, early in the game, conventional wisdom became a juicy target.

It was time to debunk it. To challenge it.

Poke holes in it. Purge it.

Propose a rethink.

And put forth fresh ideas (both my own and those of others) for experiencing life in the 21st century.

Fresh ideas on careers, purpose, success, money, retirement, and also;

On those so-called principles for living a happy life.

In upcoming posts, I’ll talk more about all of that.

Maybe provide some background—some groundwork—for what’s in the book.

Sound like a good idea?

I think it does.

There’s something else about that idea, too.

It wasn’t mine.

An expert suggested it.

Sometimes they’re right.