Nate Crowder lives a double life as hectic as that of his superhero protagonists. As a writer and member of the Horror Writer’s Association, he brings his readers the scariest fiction he can summon at the keyboard, regardless of the hour. As a small press publisher, he courts the strange and unusual, on the hunt for stories riding the edges of science-fiction. The podcast Cobalt City Adventures Unlimited, written by Crowder and produced by Michaela Hutfles won the 2011 Parsec for Best New Speculative Fiction Podcaster/Team. Long listed for the storySouth Notable Stories and a winner of the Hauntings competition at Hugo House, Nate Crowder is a very busy man.

AP: What is your job as a small press publisher?

NC: It’s so many things. To run a small press well, there’s hundreds of little moving parts. I either need to find people to handle those parts, or manage them myself. Promotions, marketing, setting a schedule. It’s a balance between talent management and trying to handle as many of the small details as I can before I go insane.

AP: What advice do you wish someone had given you before becoming a small press publisher?

NC: Be prepared for it to be more expensive then you think it’s going to be and be prepared to plan VERY far in advance. There’s an illusion that with print-on-demand that you can turn a book around quickly, which you can, but to have the time to get it out for editing, to send it out for reviews, you have to look way far ahead into the future and plan.

AP: What do you do to keep up with your writing life around running a business?

NC: That’s assuming I can keep up with my life. The most important thing is my Yahoo calendar. I couldn’t function without it. When I have conflicting things on my schedule, I reschedule. I get two hours for writing here, an hour on publishing emails, I just have to budget my time. But I have to plan for everything.

AP: How do you deal with writing that pushes boundaries with content, as an author and a publisher?

NC: As an author, I accept the fact that I’m going to write what I want to write, and there might not be a market for it. I have a story I originally wrote on a dare for the Rigor Amortis anthology, because the publisher had a number of things they hadn’t seen submitted. So I wrote a story with a tree sloth, a sci-fi story, and it was horrifying. It was too long to fit in the anthology and too weird to publish anywhere else. So I’m going to sit on it, and accept not everything I write as an author will have a market. As a publisher, we set clear boundaries about what we publish at this point. Our whole goal was to publish stories that had a niche, on that edge, not necessarily mainstream. We court the strange in our anthologies. We’re always looking for that.

AP: How do you use social media as a small press?

NC: Oh my God. I don’t know how anyone did small press publishing before social media. Twitter is invaluable for building a sense of community, with authors who have contributed and those that want to, spreading submissions calls, publicizing new releases. Facebook is a sticky static page, a presence people can find us at, see who is involved with us, what we’re doing. There’s an illusion that anyone can put a book out. But the trick is marketing. You need a physical web presence for people to get a handle on who you are. Our Facebook, blog and Twitter are an invaluable place to do that.

For more on Nate’s Timid Pirate Publishing, check out their home on the web, and be sure to follow @timidpirate on Twitter. You can also read Nate’s blog, and find him @NateCrowder on Twitter.

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This is a guest post by Tara Brannigan, who makes kick ass jewelry and juggles a very different day job. She is also an Another Passion alumni.

I live a dual life. By day I work in the game industry, writing content and developing strategies for running an online community. On the nights and weekends, I am a jeweler and maker-of-strange-things. I love my life and am incredibly fortunate to be able to pursue my passions. It took a while to get to here though, and I wanted to pass along something I learned along the way:

If you’re anything like me, your day job needs to be something you can feel good about, even if it’s not your dream job. You don’t need to have an ideal situation to pursue your passions, but don’t stay in a draining situation if there’s any way to avoid it.

A few years ago I had to make a decision: Keep my well-paying job and do something that I was no longer interested in, or take a big pay-cut and pursue something I really enjoyed. At the time I chose to keep the better paying position, reasoning that while it wasn’t what I’d prefer to work on, the higher salary meant I could buy more supplies and find my fulfillment through my jewelry work at home. Silver is increasingly expensive, and as jewelry making is not my full time job, the money for it generally comes out of my ‘fun money’ budget. Taking a lower paying job meant I’d have considerably less to spend on supplies.

After several years, I came to the realization that while I could afford to buy more supplies, tools and random components, I had traded away something far more critical: my motivation. I had a stack of silver sheet and miscellaneous supplies, but no motivation to actually make anything with it at the end of the day. I had allowed myself to get into a situation in which I was so drained, so frustrated and worn down that at the end of the day I was unable to create anything.

That’s not to say that I hated my job or the people I worked with. My team was a fantastic set of extremely passionate people that I loved working with. The game we were designing was incredibly fun and really exciting to be a part of. So what was the problem?

My day-to-day responsibilities were no longer energizing me. Instead, they’d become draining and increasingly stressful. Because I wasn’t excited about the work that consumed most of my day, I wasn’t able to find fulfillment elsewhere. I forced myself to continue to make things, but it was an arduously slow process, and my random moments of inspiration became few and far between. Making jewelry can require a great deal of concentration and patience, and when you’re stressed out or angry it can be near impossible to create anything of real quality.

Your day job eats up 8+ hours of every weekday. Don’t let those 8 hours drag you down if you have any other option. If you’re able to completely disassociate your motivation from your job, more power to you! I’ve never been able to fully disconnect the two, so for me finding a balance is critical to my success in pursuing my passions.

So where am I now? I took a big pay-cut so that I could get back to working with online communities. I was a bundle of anxiety in the weeks leading up to the decision, but ultimately decided that I needed the change. I am increasingly thankful that I made the leap.

Every day I come in and work on something that’s really exciting and meaningful to me. And as a result, my creativity and motivation for my passion for ‘Making Stuff!’ has exploded. I have less money to buy silver with, but I’ve gained far more in return.

Want more Tara? Visit her site, like her Facebook page and follow her on Twitter as @kindofstrange.

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I only made it to a handful of conventions this year, but I met some of my now nearest and dearest at each of them. Caught up in the excitement, it wasn’t till later that I was able to consider how quickly perfect strangers had become some of my favorite people, literally overnight. The friendships we form at conventions and the experiences we have exist on a wildly truncated and intense timeline. Over-caffeinated and under-slept like you haven’t been since college, you’re doing things you don’t usually do every night, maybe even any night.

Hitting the Wall, With Your Face

Anyone can run out of emotional and mental bandwidth at a convention sooner than anywhere else. Being aware of when you’re about to hit the wall is key to actually enjoying yourself. Taking a moment to grab a quiet conversation with a new friend, retreat to your hotel room for a thirty minute nap, nip outside to chat up the smokers and anyone else looking for a moment outside the crush — all viable ways to keep from running shrieking and insane from the thousands of people surrounding you. Some of my favorite moments this year were under the eaves with a few friends outside, getting a breath of passably fresh air as we took a moment together as a group to collectively not go nuts.

Playing You vs. Being You

When we’re at cons, we’re “on”, playing a version of ourselves because it’s a different emotional space. That version of us, while containing some of our qualities, caffeinated and cranked to 11, is not the same as the people we are at home. You might feel the pressure to be an animated and intensely engaged 24/7 version of you. Some people have a reputation as being incredibly outgoing, the penultimate life of the convention. But away from suite parties and awards shows, those same people may be reserved, or even exhausted by that effort. Some of the most genuine and wonderful people I know often don their public persona as soon as they walk up to registration, and never let it slip in public till they walk out days later.

You must decide how comfortable you are playing you, or seeing others using a public mask. It is not inherently bad or good to be on or not. But if you decide to be on: remember that you’re performing and take time to “go offstage” and recharge.

Making a Fool of Yourself

Everybody has a story about something stupid they did at a convention. My collection is pretty small as sins go, but I have a recent one from this year. Off-site from a convention, a friend of mine and I were attending an event in a local nightclub associated with a convention. One of the guests at this event is an artist whose work I admire. In order to pluck up my courage, my friend bought me a shot. And another shot. By the end of the night, I was tipsy enough that I not only had to take my time walking when I went to attempt to say hello, I also only managed a petrified squeak. To their credit, that artist took a shyly awkward woman nearly tripping over them with grace and tact. Suffice to say, I fled shortly after.

I have yet to drink before meeting my heroes since then, and plan to continue the trend of doing so shy but sober. Being an intoxicated and awkward fan is one thing, but there are plenty of other things that could become your convention story. Walk of shame. Pick a fight with a peer. Stand on top of a table and literally sing your own praises.

So trust your instincts. If something inside you says you will deeply regret what you’re about to do: don’t do it. I know it’s easy to say, but you have to train yourself to listen to that Jiminy Cricket in your head that will save you from yourself.

On the other hand, if you do fall to temptation, you can hide behind excuses, drown in shame, or own that moment. If you’re called out about it, you don’t deny being stupid. If you can be confident in yourself enough as a person, you’ll have the integrity to admit to your mistakes, and even learn from them. If you don’t own it, other people will. So you better be on the spot to make that moment yours, and not a tool of other people to hurt or demean you.

The Seven Stages of Goodbye

The con is a transient space. It doesn’t last. It ends, and it’s supposed to. Don’t be sad about missing a party, blowing off a panel, or not seeing everyone you know. Cons are ephemeral. Not everyone can stay for the same amount of time. Goodbyes can start the night before con ends, through to the trip home. They get exchanged on the convention floor, in elevators and on escalators, passing each other on the street. They continue in taxi or train rides and at airport gates. I have witnessed the tearful, desperate kisses of long-distance couples at the gate during boarding calls, and the tears that followed on the plane.

Some goodbyes are easier, while others weigh heavy as a stone. Take a moment to hold that grief in your hands, and then let it go. There’s always the next Con.

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Jennifer Brozek is an author and editor who has spent years continually perfecting her craft. Recipient of an Origins Award, an Australian Shadows Award, and a silver ENnie, Jennifer’s writing in horror, science fiction and role-playing games is a labor of dedication and love. The editor and publisher behind the long-lived web publication The Edge of Propinquity, her projects have included columns on making anthologies, writing for role-playing games, a number of short stories, and a forthcoming anthology from DAW as editor for Human for a Day.

Jennifer is also someone I’ve known for years; from standing in line together for lattes to watching her win an ENnie at GenCon in 2011, Jennifer started out a friend and professional that I knew well, eventually becoming my boss. Our long familiarity means I’ve read a number of her interviews, and knew there were questions about her industry and career that she had yet to be asked.

AP: What convinced you to take writing seriously?

JB: So, way back in the long ago, I believe around 2000, my friend David Webb was part of a small indie RPG company called Otherworld Creations. And I wanted to write for him. A mutual friend of ours and I were talking, and I mentioned this to our friend. And what our mutual friend said was, “Well, I suggested you to him, and Dave’s response was, “She’s just a dreamer. Until she gets out there and starts publishing, she’ll never be a professional. And that’s why I can’t use her.”

I was so angry and so offended at it — he’d used someone else who was unpublished — to me at the time it felt like a double standard. The other reason I was so angry is because it was true. He got to the heart of it. I was too afraid to submit my work. So I was just a dreamer. The next day, after I got over the rage part of my pique, I emailed Don Bassingthwaite, an editor at Black Gate Magazine, and told him “I noticed you guys review RPGs, but you don’t have a female reviewer. I’m a female gamer and I want to write for you.’” I have no idea what Don’s personal feelings were, but he emailed me back and said, “Okay. I’ll send you some product, and you write me a 600 word article. If it’s good, I pay you and you keep the product. If it’s bad, you keep the product.” That started my writing career.

From there I did reviews for Campaign Magazine, because I gamed with one of their editors, and he discovered I was doing reviews for Black Gate. And then after that, I pitched him a fiction series called Tales of the Hucked Tankard. Campaign Magazine accepted the series, and started out paying me .5 cents a word. You know the kicker? I had no idea .5 cents a word was an industry pro standard. So I said, ‘Why don’t we do a flat fee?” I’ve learned a lot since then. My way of getting into publishing was to prove to someone else that I wasn’t just a dreamer, and that I was good enough to write for him.

AP: What are some of the things you’ve learned producing the Edge of Propinquity?

JB: Authors are a flakey bunch. Some of them are divas when they don’t deserve to be. But! When you get a good continuing story, it makes my job so awesome. Webzines are expensive to produce. I must have liked it; I’ve done it for six years. I think most of my hard lessons came in the first year or two. But right now I think the best lesson I learned was one I put forward from the beginning: the due date is ten days before anything is actually due. In six years I can count on two hands the number of times an author got me their story on time. Building in a deadline buffer is key to doing a monthly zine, especially when you have continuing stories.

I also learned you have to be patient, and that life happens. You have to send out reminders. And when you see something going wrong in a story, you need to stop and talk to the author. There’s one author I didn’t do that with, and I kind of regret it.

AP: What do you think readers get out of reading horror?

JB: Readers get a safe but proactive way to face fear. It’s our modern-day way of passing on cautionary tales. Cautionary tales of what the author wants to express could be bad for you. Horror allows readers to face personal demons by living vicariously through the characters. And when you are frightened by a book, there’s a psychological and chemical response, it’s a way to get your adrenaline rush without someone actually wielding a knife at you. Because honestly, I’d never want to live the life of people in my books! There’s this saying, “An adventure is someone a thousand miles away having a perfectly rotten time.”

AP: What is it you love about science fiction?

JB: I love the potential. I love the stories and the dreams and where my mind goes and where it’s led. I think science fiction makes the world a better place because it encourages people to look forward, and invent, and to strive for things like the stars.

AP: Why is travel so necessary for writers?

JB: One of the most important aspects of being a writer is face to face contact with your peers, members of the industry and your fanbase. The industry is very small, and it’s good to forge face to face connections. I as an editor and an author am more likely to do a project with someone after I’ve met them and had a good experience.

Example: an author bought me a drink at a bar two years ago. She said, “Hey, let me get that for you. I’d heard your name around and wanted to say hi.” She didn’t pitch me after that, she just bought me the drink and we started talking. I’ve discovered from face to face meetings with people that some folks who telegraph as very short online are some of the most wonderful people in person. At one convention I met a senior member of a publishing company, and my meeting with them was fantastic. I had a great time, even though before I’d been nervous about it because of what I’d heard about them.

AP: What do you get out being a member of SFWA [Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America]?

JB: As an editor I get access to a means to contact most authors I want to work with. So networking is key in SFWA, it’s one of the most valuable things about it. You also know every active member in SFWA has had three pro sales or a novel sale, and every affiliate works in the industry. Next up, you get all kinds of advice. Help on contract negotiation, dispute help, there are certain calls for submission for SFWA only members. You have a group of like minded individuals, all working for a common goal, which is to benefit authors and authors’ rights in the publishing industry.

For more, visit Jennifer’s website and be sure to follow @jenniferbrozek on Twitter. Also, check out her web publication The Edge of Propinquity. Photos by Rasmus.

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Ever looked at someone’s work and though it was terrible, and that you could do better? Ever read a book or a blog post and felt the same way? Or looked at a photograph or listened to a song, and struggled for something to like about it? Maybe you even laughed mockingly at this inferior work? Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you that was wrong. It’s natural to poke a little fun at those who try and fail. It makes us feel better about ourselves.

But what if the work you despise belongs to a friend? Whether they made it or paid for it, most of us would bite back the sarcastic comments at that point. So, do you say nothing and pretend everything is fine to spare your friend’s feelings? Or do you stop to help?

I happen to know a little about writing and photography, and I used to know more about web design (which was my business before I turned to photography). Experience gives me a decent understanding of how those three work together. Or so I should like to think.

If I were a perfect man with perfect morals, I would never mock others for their ineptitude. But sometimes it’s fun to laugh at other people – not with them. That’s why we have shows like World’s Dumbest… But again, if we’re talking about an actual friend or even client, pointing and laughing might not be the wisest way to go.

And here we come to my point. If you notice a friend is lacking in some area, reach out and help them improve. Even if it costs you time and effort for no immediate reward. It will come back to you, and not just as good karma in some future life. The friend you helped is likely to talk about it to his friends, sharing a story in which you are the hero. It makes you look good, it makes you feel good and you’ve helped a friend at the same time.

Later, when your friend’s friends come asking if you’ll help them too, make sure to charge enough to make up for the time spent helping your buddy.

Paying it forward is never a bad thing, but it can be difficult to know where to begin and what might be worth investing in. I think there is no better investment than friends. Start with them. Help your friends be better, and you recruit them to be your champions. If you’re an independent creative or struggling artist, you absolutely need champions. As many as you can get!

So the next time your friend shows you her creation and you could do better – don’t just nod and offer a false attagirl, but offer to help improve it. And try to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt her feelings too much.

Right

“I’m inspired to do my own version of your head shot. Can I take a quick phone snapshot to give you an idea what I would do?”

Wrong

“Woah, your new head shots make you ten years older! I hope you didn’t pay for those, because I could do better with my cellphone camera. See?”

Note that some friends are beyond help – I won’t encourage you extend yourself to the point where you’re being taken advantage of, or fixing the same problem repeatedly for free – but I do think success of any kind can be boiled down to the people who like you.

So who am I to tell you what to do? Unless we already know each other, I’m nobody. You are free to laugh at my words and mock my pocket-wisdom and pseudo advice without any guilt or shame. Though I hope you walk away with just a little more than cheap laughs.

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Brian is standing over a box of shirts as I enter the brand new Sodo location for Clone Press. Shortly thereafter, Brandon (above) pops his head out from the back and says hello. There’s an energy in the air, a buzz of men working. Even though there’s just the two of them.

Clone Press is a family business run by Brandon, Brian and the woman they have in common – Jennifer, who is Brandon’s sister and married to Brian. Together they print things like posters and T-shirts for other small businesses, local venues, bands and artists. It’s silk screen the old school way. Done by hand with lots of love, care and professional pride.

At first, both men keep working, Brian on a batch of shirts for a local record store, Brandon preparing the mirror he plans on hanging in the bathroom. He wants to put a print on it before it goes up, but now realizes that the corner is cracked. Before I arrived, he just finished putting the print on the windows out front. Clone Press has been in business for nearly a decade and this is their biggest expansion yet. The two guys are obviously excited about it, having built their business to this point, and continuing to grow, recession or no.

AP: What is it about the printing process that gives you a personal satisfaction? What goes into a perfect print for you? Why is it worth investing your time and future?

CP: I love the versatility of screen-printing. It’s the most versatile of printing techniques. It feels like any surface can be screen-printed and it’s used in so many ways, commercial or artistically. It’s also such a tangible process. The ink has texture, the colors are bold, and you can tell when something has been screen-printed. I think screen-printing is by nature imperfect but that’s what gives the medium its cool aesthetic. People like screen-printed things, even if they don’t know it. There always seems to be something new to learn about the nuances of printing. That in itself makes it worth my time.

AP: You started out printing things for your own band, Couch of Eureka, in the 1990s. At what point did printing become more important than the music?

CP: Really neither is more important. I still play in bands, Brian and I even play in a band together. They are both a creative process. One is definitely more a means to an end, financially, but one doesn’t exactly trump the other. I feel it’s a “have your cake and eat it too” kind of thing. Printing is about having a business but I think we feel lucky to be able to do what we do and make money doing it. Although by no means is anybody getting rich! My passion for both hasn’t really changed. It’s just doing what I’m compelled to do.

AP: Clone Press began in a garage in 2001, now almost a decade later you have just moved into a new, bigger space. To what do you credit this growth and success, especially when so many small businesses are struggling?

CP: On the business end things kind of fell in our laps. We never have taken loans or tried to grow big for the sake of being bigger. Like the
letterpress I just found while getting my paper cut at a small offset printing shop. I noticed it just gathering dust and asked if they wanted to get rid of it. I always wanted one and it was just luck I guess. I admit that a lot of the time we’ve been a business we just got by, but we are dedicated to seeing the whole thing become what we envision it to be. The shop has been a lot like the printing process, making something from a blank slate. Lately like any small business we’ve felt the need to take risks. These days are an unusual circumstance for small business and we think you just have to go for it.

AP: Until now you’ve specialized in silk screen prints. With your new space you are looking to expand into letterpress printing and add more types of textile printing. What are your hopes and fears for this expansion?

CP: We hope to grow painlessly! We’ve tried to keep the overall risk low, by making the growth gradual, without leveraging the operation as it is right now. That meant having a larger space out of necessity while making other options available. It’s a balancing act for sure.

AP: Clone Press is a family run business. What does that mean to you, and are you able to keep family and business matters separate?

CP: It means everything. We’ve always been close and I’ve felt that family support through the last nine years with the shop, or any endeavor I’ve engaged in and I hope I’ve been supportive in the same way. We’ve met a lot of great folks and had interesting things come our way because of the shop. Brian and I even got to act on stage in a play called Point Break Live! That was fun. It’s been an interesting ride so far for sure.

Check out Clone Press’ website, find them on Facebook and go check out their space in the near future. They’ll be adding a storefront and I hear they’re putting in a lounging area.

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In spite of having a fantastic time working on Another Passion, and seeing better results than expected, there is still an overall plan behind the madness. A grander scheme, if you will. This includes ongoing evaluation of the project as a whole. I would like to share with you the past, present and future, in the form of 3 checkpoints I set up for Another Passion and a hint of things to come.

The site launched officially in January 2010, the premiere interview literally went live on January 1st. Checkpoint 1 was 6 months later, and the criteria for success simply: if I like doing it and see potential for growth, continue to Checkpoint 2. Otherwise, shut it down and move on.

We’re now in August, which means that Checkpoint 1 came and went. I blew right past it. Creating Another Passion is a lot more work than I thought it would be, and I’ve spent more on bus tickets to go meet interviewees, than I have made from creating Another Passion at this point – but it has been worth it! Not just because of the personal satisfaction, which is surprisingly strong, but my network also exploded with new, highly talented contacts. I’m starting to see the effects of that in terms of referrals – both as traffic to the site, new interviewees and other opportunities.

The second part of Checkpoint 1 was whether I see potential for growth. The answer is yes. Every month is better than the last, so far. I’ve seen an increase on all fronts, from site visitors to interview requests, facebook fans and comments. Buh-bye, Checkpoint 1.

Checkpoint 2 is at the 1-year mark. This is a crucial point for me, because this is where I start looking at Another Passion as a business, in the sense that I have to look for ways to justify the time and effort financially. After 1 year, I would like to see some income from the site, whether it’s through the store, photography work or other related sources. I have several things underway to help me get there, like the printed edition of the first 6 months of interviews (I’m 80% finished putting that together at the moment of writing this). Besides the financial aspect, it still also has to be fun and have growth potential.

Checkpoint 3 is at the 3-year mark. I feel that a business should be profitable after 3 years, and so it shall be with Another Passion. After 3 years of pouring this kind of time and energy into the project, I want to start seeing not just income, but actual profit that can be traced back to the site. By profit, I mean an average income that exceeds expenses and time spent – and still with fun and growth potential.

The last thing needed to pass Checkpoint 3 is a plan for the future. I have not planned the project any further out than this. As the project evolves naturally, new goals and opportunities will present themselves, and I want room in my planning to accommodate that. New developments are already underway to help take Another Passion to the next level. It involves a partnership with another, locally focused site, which I am very excited about. Expect more on that in the not-too-distant future.

The photo for this post was taken by Kelly Cline.

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I attended an event aimed at local bloggers in late 2009. I felt kind of awkward there, under-dressed and belonging to a more artsy crowd than most other attendees. So, I was thrilled to find a table with crayons and people adding illustrations to drawings of coffee cups. That’s where I ran into Zaara, who is an illustrator and graphic designer. She runs her own studio — KittenChops.

Originally from Hungary, Zaara now lives and works in Seattle. Her style is very illustrative, organic and, dare I say cute. A style which has put her work on Starbucks coffee as well as the wrappers of Seattle gourmet chocolatiers, Theo Chocolate. More on that below, including a comment from Theo about Zaara’s design work.

AP: Your style is very organic and definitely has a hand-drawn feel. How did your style and look evolve into where it is today?

Originally I trained to be a graphic designer and got a job after graduation. It was amazingly wonderful that this job happened to be Starbucks Creative, where most of the work was very illustration oriented and the studio was full of amazing designers who were also wonderful illustrators and visual artists. It was a very nurturing and free creative environment with kindred spirits. Many friendships from back then still continue to this day.

The “organic” style was part of the brand and our job was to express it. This experience was my foundation. I also have natural inclination to a more feminine style and this got honed during the years with continued practice. Also the nature of the work I have been getting, calls for such an approach (nobody hires me to design a bank logo) so it builds upon itself in a way.

Zaara at her drawing table.

I really enjoy being able to visually express what a client has in their heart and mind (the essence of their project/brand/business). They know it, they have it but I am the one who brings it out for them in the shape of a logo or packaging. The best moment is when I feel the creative brief and the work under my hand align completely. That is such a joyful, YES! moment. Then being able to share that experience with the client and have them have the same “Yes, that is it exactly” epiphany is the best.

I very carefully consider the creative brief, their goals etc. Then I do research on their industry or any detail of the brief that seems particularly meaningful. Sketch and brainstorm a lot, the usual creative process in an intuitive way.

AP: After graduating, you worked as an in-house designer for Starbucks and now your run your own studio. How hard was it making that switch and what does it mean to you, to be your own boss?

Leaving my job was not much of a conscious decision. I did not have clients lined up or any serious business plan ready. I was simply really burned out and tired. I am a night owl and the strictly enforced “no matter what you have to be at your desk from 9-5″ became unsustainable for me. I worked a lot of late nights simply because that was when I did my best. Corporate could not allow for any flexibility at the time and I needed a change. I made the jump, I felt like I HAD TO.

Looking back, I marvel at myself. I might not have the guts today to leave the comfort of a steady paycheck — but super glad that it happened that way and KittenChops could be born. Now I can work/wake up/go on vacation any old time I please! Freedom, the feeling of unlimited possibilities is wonderful. I know I can do anything, it is only up to me and I know I do not have any excuses. Learning and practicing full responsibility on a daily basis is not easy but very rewarding when it works.

AP: In a town full of amazing artists and designers, how do you go about getting your work seen and marketing yourself?

I make sure that I receive credit with my work, both on printed pieces and online. I spec this ahead of time in my contract. This has been my main source of promotion so far.

AP: As a case example, you designed the wrappers for Seattle-based Theo Chocolate. How did that project come about, and could you take us through the process of these particular designs?

Theo came about after being referred to a portfolio review interview by a former Starbucks colleague. Then Theo picked me.

The initial objective was to establish two very different brands: Theo, the high end gourmet product line; the super high end 5th avenue of chocolates that would be set apart from competitors by the fact that it is made from scratch in a local factory “the only bean to bar chocolate”, and 3400 Phinney the fun, flavor oriented brand, that would communicate the fun nature of chocolate and make the factory a destination for people to visit.

There are real kitties at work too!

The Phinney brand was illustrated based on the flavor of each bar telling a little story. Cute and whimsical, featuring the flavor of the bar. My favorite one is “Bread and Chocolate” – a chocolate bar which has toasted bread morsels inside. In the illustration I have a baby kitten trying to sneak a lick of the molten chocolate her mom is making (ps: chocolate in real life is not safe for cats). So really light hearted and easy to emotionally respond to, yet expressing what the brand is about and making clear what the particular flavor is. Many times people have told me and written in my online guest book that their first purchase was brought about by the cute kittens.

Debra Music (VP Sales & Marketing) adds:
We wanted to capture the magic and sensuality of chocolate in a new way. Zaara was the perfect partner for us, because she’s not only a brilliant illustrator, she views the world differently herself. She never misses a chance to spread light and her sense of color and her imagination are boundless. Her ability to infuse the inanimate with life, and to blend colors and textures is amazing to me. Our labels have definitely been a source of wonderful feedback – over the years we’ve had multiple emails from folks telling us they had to buy and try our products because of the artwork. I’ve been to many buyers offices and seen one of our labels taped to their cube walls – they’re so beautiful people think twice before crumpling them up and tossing them in the recycling bin. That’s pretty special!

Please take the time to check out the KittenChops website, which has lots of examples of Zaara’s work (her snowboards are stunning!). There is also a blog and a Facebook page for your viewing pleasure.

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Tiffani talks like she writes, with sharpness and wit. She is a web writer, which was not what she had originally thought she would be spending her time on, back when she was in college. It wasn’t until she landed a job with Seattle based web design company Blue Flavor, that she truly discovered the art of writing for the internet. Today, she has her own web-writing business, Second and Park, and runs a second business with her husband, thingsthatarebrown.

I met with Tiffani at Victrola, a coffee roaster and café in Seattle’s Capitol Hill district. She contacted me earlier that day, to push our meeting an hour, and when we parted ways, she was settling down to do some work at the coffee shop. Such is the life of the self-employed.

AP: Your educational background is in psychology, religious studies, philosophy and ethics. This seems like a far cry from web writing. What happened to get you into not just professional writing but working in the web industry?

TJB: Until I got into master’s program, I was dead set on becoming a religious studies professor. I wanted to study megachurches, evangelicals and how religion was changing in America, but I had a hard time finding my angle on the subject and got frustrated that the discipline wasn’t as current as I’d hoped it’d be.

Meanwhile, Matt was running thingsthatarebrown and seemed to have freedom to shape his career. When I realized I could be a writer and thinker and stay on top of major forces shaping society, I figured I’d give the internet biz a try.

AP: Web writing seems like a stricter form of copywriting, having to take things like search engines and readers with a three second attention span into consideration. What is it about this particular discipline that is so appealing to you?

TJB: Erin Anderson of Brain Traffic once mentioned that “web writing is the embodiment of Good Writing in general.” I completely agree.
Web writing forces you to be economical, clear, completely focused on the reader and concerned with action and outcomes. You can’t bullshit your way through it, and I love that.

I think good writing is simple, direct, clear and provocative. George Saunders, Raymond Carver, and Grace Paley are all good writers & storytellers.  Web writing is simple, clear, direct and provocative too but the way you “tell the story” is different than in fiction. Good web writing works with design, helps people do stuff, and is free of all uselessness. It’s also (obviously) interactive.

I am a pretty visual person, so I can almost “see” when my writing’s working.  I look at it on the page or in the context of the site, and I see how it fits: do I want to read it?  Does it lead me logically to the next step?  Have I kept word count to a bare minimum? If the writing looks or feels awkward or is confusing after I read it a couple times, I scrap it.

AP: Different clients demand different approaches, tone and amount of fluff vs. fact. How do you keep your work varied and fresh, accommodating the client without losing your personal touch or style?

TJB: This is one of the hardest parts of my job, because clients often come to me looking for the same thing: fresh, hip, simple web writing. But the definition of “fresh, hip, simple” means something different for everybody.

To figure out what people really want, I spend a lot of time getting to know them, interviewing stakeholders, and researching their business up front. If I suspect I won’t be able to figure out what a potential client wants, I try not to take on the project.

I also always ask myself the question, “What’s true about this service / product / business” while I’m writing. This keeps me focused on what really matters and helps me avoid marketing fluff.

AP: Could you go into a little more detail about the interview process? How and when do you know whether you’ll be able to understand/meet your client’s needs or not?

TJB: I find that my writing improves drastically after I hear people explain their business in their own words—people tend to speak more freely and descriptively than they write, so I end up with a much better material to work with if I do interviews. It’s always difficult, though, to know in advance whether I’ll be able to use what I’ve gathered. Knowing what research will be most helpful comes later on down the line, after I’ve finished discovery and have a really solid sense of what the business goals are.

As for knowing if I can meet a particular client’s needs, that’s tricky. Usually, though, I get a good sense of who I can’t help or don’t want to work with very quickly. I pay a lot of attention to how people write and talk about themselves; if they come to me for services I don’t offer, want something done tomorrow, sound like spam or are too demanding, I know right away I won’t be able to help them.

AP: You also run a small design agency (thingsthatarebrown) with your husband Matt. How do you balance your time and focus between your own and your shared business?

TJB: Very carefully. I expected Second and Park to be more of a side business, but it ended up growing quickly, which has meant I spend about 3/4 time at thingsthatarebrown and another 1/2 at Second and Park. It’s a bit much.

Since I prefer to do web writing and content strategy in conjunction with design, though, we’re re-tooling thingsthatarebrown’s offerings so that writing is involved in every design project.

This will let us collaborate more, but it will mean less time for me at Second and Park. I’m cool with that.

AP: Being in business with your husband, are you ever able to really take time off and just be a couple? How do you separate work from family time?

TJB: (I think) we had realistic expectations when we started working together. We didn’t expect to have a full work/life separation. Talking about “the direction of the business” at 11pm is the nature of the beast.

We’ve managed to find plenty of time for fun, though. We make a lot of time for our friends, and give each other space. We also try not to take ourselves too seriously and remind each other that there’s life outside of thingsthatarebrown and Second and Park.

For us the endless challenge is to figure out what’s important to be serious about (doing good work and being profitable while having a happy life) and put most our energy on that. We try to put other less important things, like the perfectionistic details or what everybody says or implies we should/could be doing, on the back burner (Matt’s better at that than me).

We also aren’t workaholics. We work a lot, but we’re not going to burn out in three months by sleeping poorly and killing ourselves for… what? Success? That game gets old quick, and then you start hating yourself. We try not to hate ourselves, even though we’re both naturally self-critical.

Bottom line: running your own business is hard, but like most things in life, it’s only as dire and painful as you make it. You can treat yourself good or bad and take yourself too seriously or be irresponsible. We’re in search of a balance.

Find Tiffani Jones Brown on Second and Park and thingsthatarebrown – and check out her twitter profile.

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Paul Zitarelli is a smart man in more ways than one. Not only is he booksmart, he has also figured out a way to make pursuing his passion for wine into a living. With support from friends and family, he walked away from a good job and a Harvard education to start Full Pull Wines; a web based service, where afficionados can sign up for notification whenever he gets new, select local wines, order what they like and have it shipped or pick it up later. A simple business idea but the local aspect is what sets Zitarelli apart, because not only does he sell the wine, he actively researches and visits individual wineries.

I met with Paul at his warehouse in Seattle’s Sodo district, where he was kind enough to show me what he does and tell me about his passion.

AP: You basically binned a Harvard degree in applied Math to learn business and sell local wine. That seems like a huge leap. How did you find the courage?

PZ: Well, it’s kind of you to characterize it as an act of courage. Somehow I think of it more as an act of desperation. I emerged out of college with that degree, a profound sense of entitlement, and no clue how to apply what I had learned in any meaningful real-world profession. I proceeded to spend much of my 20s having the sense of entitlement beaten out of me (thank goodness!) and exploring a broad variety of jobs, trying to shape how I wanted to spend the rest of my life and career. But even that exploration wasn’t as purposeful as it should have been, and I found myself in my late 20s feeling directionless. And so I did what the directionless frequently do: I applied to grad school.

One of the joys of a two-year, full-time graduate program was finding myself with time: time to think; time to reflect on my career to date and what I wanted it to look like in the future. As I did that, I kept returning to food and wine. No subject has ever engaged me in such a visceral way. Even as a little kid, I used to freak my parents out because I could name a food that I ordered at a restaurant eight months ago; and then I could rattle off what they ordered too. As I dove deeper into wine, I came to see it as a topic that combines the visceral with the intellectual. That combination was too tempting to pass up.

Fortunately, I was in a position where I could take a risk: no kids, no mortgage, and a spouse with a good, steady job (and health insurance). It seemed like a now-or-never moment; if I didn’t try this venture now, I would settle into the comforts of post-MBA life. I took that sense of desperation and let it fuel the urgency that allowed me to launch Full Pull just a few months after graduating from school.

AP: You have focused on local wine from Washington State. Why is it important to you where the wine is from?

PZ: Consistency is a quality that I look for in much of what I eat or drink. From low-brow (when Wendy’s pumps out a square hamburger patty on Thursday, I expect it to taste the same as the patty they pumped out on Monday) to high-brow (each time I order the cassoulet at Café Campagne, I better get one duck confit leg, one sausage, one piece of pork, and a bunch of garlicky white beans in a tiny Le Creuset pot), I value the comfort that comes with familiarity.

But wine is the exception. Because each bottle of wine is a living creature, it changes constantly. The same bottle will taste a little different after one hour open than it will after four hours open. Two of the “same” bottles opened years apart will taste different. The same producer using the same varietal from the same vineyard can produce vastly different wines from one vintage to the next; and I don’t grudgingly accept these inconsistencies; I love and celebrate them.

Wine emphasizes terroir: the notion that each bottle comes first and foremost from the soil, sun, and air of a particular place. The wines I love the most (which are not always from Washington) are those that could only come from that specific place where they’re produced. What I did see in Washington wine was a disconnect between the real and the perceived when it came to quality and terroir-expressiveness. The way to close that gap is to tell the stories of these bottles and then let people experience the wine for themselves.

AP: When you first started, your friends helped you get set up. Your wife has also been a support. How would you characterize the importance of a strong network?

PZ: I’m not sure I can emphasize enough the importance of a strong network. An entrepreneurial venture like this can be a lonely undertaking, especially in the early stages, so the support of friends and family has been invaluable. My lease started on July 1, and we transformed the warehouse space over the three-day 4th of July weekend.

My wife and friends gave up the possibility of trips out of town and other fun activities to spend a weekend scrubbing brick walls, sanding beams, and painting floors. And beyond that; they never made it seem like a burden, and in fact made the whole process ridiculously fun; much more fun than those activities had any right to be. Honestly, I get emotional just writing about it. I’m glad this isn’t a video blog or I would be blubbering at this point.

AP: You opened for business less than a year ago yet you already have hundreds of clients and dozens of wineries attached. How did you achieve this with a marketing budget of $0?

PZ: The lack of marketing budget has been more out of necessity than purpose. I always envisioned Full Pull as a self-funded, bootstrapped operation, and achieving that meant living within pretty tight monetary constraints. So the question became: what is the cheapest kind of marketing? Fortunately, the answer to that question is also the answer to: what is the most effective kind of marketing – word of mouth.

My goal, then, shifted more to the quality of the experience of dealing with Full Pull, for both customers and wineries. For customers, the idea was to make the experience so positive at every level that they would want to tell their friends, family, and colleagues about our little company. We tell compelling stories; we make the purchasing process scarily easy; and we pour great wines down at the warehouse on our pickup days.

We give wineries plenty of love too. It’s relatively rare for retailers to actually go to Eastern Washington and visit with winemakers on their turf. Frequently, wineries present their wines at distributor tastings next to 60 other wines, with buyers making thumbs-up/thumbs-down decisions in three seconds without asking a single question about the wine or the winery. And that system works, but from my perspective, it does relegate wine to the realm of commodities, and as I mentioned, I don’t see wine that way. Neither do most winemakers.

In the end, it has not been that complicated a formula: we have endeavored to treat everyone we deal with in the right way, and the best customers and wineries seem to find us if we don’t find them first.

AP: What’s next? You’ve taken the plunge and gotten off to a good start. What are your goals and dreams for the future of Full Pull Wines?

PZ: That question was eerily reminiscent of one that I got a lot at the end of my MBA program when I told people what I was doing: “What’s your exit strategy?” My typical response was: “um, retirement.” But that’s super-long-term.

Short term, I have a few goals. One is to pursue more unique opportunities that fit well within our model of selling: items like library wines, verticals, and tasting-room-only wines. We have only scratched the surface there. Also, I have been unable so far to source some of the best wines in the state, because they are heavily allocated to their mailing lists and long-established brick-and-mortar retailers. As our reputation continues to grow, I hope to be able to offer wines from wineries like Cayuse, Quilceda Creek, Leonetti, and Betz.

I’m frequently asked when we’re going to expand and offer wines outside of Washington. The reality is that Washington produces more than 3000 wines in any given year, and we offer fewer than 200 of them, so we still have plenty of this state’s corners to explore. Long term, the dream is to become the premier source of boutique Washington wine: a source of both the wine itself and the stories behind those wines.

For more information, visit the Full Pull Wines website. There is also a Twitter account for you to follow.

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