It was snowing hard when I landed in Chicago. It was so hard that I had to stay in the dismal airport Hilton, as no cabs were available. The next morning, I managed to get a ride to corporate headquarters, knowing full well that my visit wasn’t going to be fun.

My boss, the boss’s son, fired me before I could pull up a chair. He’d called me to Chicago, in the middle of winter, to fire me. Worse, I knew it was going to happen, I hated the job, and I should have quit months earlier.

Nevertheless, I felt the tears coming on. I don’t think I spilled any, but my point is, I felt the pain. I felt it despite my success. Despite all my experience, I was hit hard and down for the count.

There you have it. When we’re down, it’s hard to get up. Often impossible. To break free of the grip of desperation and depression is often impossible to do without the passage of time, reflection, and help from others.

Fired, laid off, let go, made redundant, terminated, or downsized out of a job, it hurts. It really hurts.

When we’re seeking work and are rejected, passed over, screened out, brushed off, or ghosted, it’s excruciating.

I know. I’ve been there. And in my work as an advisor to creatives, I see the effects, the damage –– if not daily, certainly weekly –– in my clients.

And during these low periods in my life, I’ve found myself alternating between feeling worthless and boiling with anger. At the worst, I’m so depressed that I can’t get off the couch, and alternatively, I’m so filled with rage that all I can think of is getting revenge. Neither is helpful.

In effect, when we’re hit with a trauma-inducing event, we go into fight, flight, freeze, or surrender mode. A useless state when we need to find a new source of income.

Job searching requires a plan. And it requires that we are in a mental state that allows us access to the cognitive and rational parts of our brain. Not only do we need a plan, but we also need to have the ability to follow through on the plan. And we can’t do that when all we can think of is our failures. Or getting even.

Job loss is a form of grief, encompassing identity, security, routine, and self-worth. The mind naturally gravitates toward those old, negative voices ( “you stupid little shit,” “you’ve never been any good”), echoes of childhood and past criticism. That looping keeps us stuck in shame rather than taking action.

So what to do?

Know the Reality of What Happened

“Losing a job isn’t proof I’m not good enough. It’s a business decision in a system full of stuff far beyond my control.”

“Being laid off says more about an unfeeling corporation than my worth.”

Take Small, Restorative Steps

Big plans (like “find a new job”) are impossible when your shame is screaming at you. But small, structured actions –– such as updating your resume, reaching out to one person, then another, and then a third –– can get a little bit of action going. Remember, you do have control of your own actions.

Remember Your Wins

Before scary meetings, I used to go to the men’s room, latch myself in a stall, and make a list of accomplishments that I knew others recognized. This action pushed the fear out of my frontal lobe and replaced it with confidence.

Just like my “bathroom stall accomplishments list,” anyone can benefit from writing down past wins, kind feedback from colleagues, or challenges they overcame. Reading that when the negative shit starts to flood reorients us. Works for me. Still does.

I’ve learned that when shame hits me, I want to be alone. I’m like a wounded tiger curled up in a cave, isolated, licking my wounds. That only extends the pain.

Now, I call or meet with someone I trust. Therapy has been an enormous help. I still go to a weekly group therapy session. The cost is low, and the benefit of seeing others’ struggles and sharing my own is rich with insight. Conversation and sharing normalize the experience and restore lost perspective.

Reframe the Conversation

Instead of “I was canned, therefore I failed,” think, “Those assholes just gave me a new life.”

Or more civilly, “I’m in transition, not broken.”

And most of all in my view: “I’m fucking in charge here. My value is not tied to them. My value is inside me.”

Once we put the shame aside, know the trauma, understand what trauma does to us, then and only then can we make and follow a plan.

I hope this is of some help.

The post Insight: You’re fired appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Questions are the best! They get answers, and they bring us closer to each other with the telling.

Here’s a quick example. It’s the midmorning break at a design conference. I’m standing in line for coffee when the guy behind me says:

“How’s your day going?”
“Great, beautiful day.”
“I love those socks! Where’d you get ’em?”
“Oh, thank you! I got them at this new shop that’s…”

Now we have a whole new area to explore, it’s about design, but beyond design at the same time. Starting with socks, we can move to delightful shopping experiences, our choice in clothes, or explore what we like to do outside the office. Best of all, I just made a friend at a conference full of strangers.

Sometimes that happens, and it’s a great way to get to know each other and strengthen our connection. But more often than not, in the world of creative services, our day-to-day is more like the following.

The Google screen opens.

“Hi, great to see you, it’s been a while.” You nod in agreement, and before you can speak…

“I’m in a bit of a hurry and in need of a deck for that healthcare event. Do you guys have time? I need it the end of next week.”

Classic, right?

Client is in a hurry, and the request –– seemingly –– gives us little maneuvering room to do anything other than say yes or no.

The thing is, when clients ask us for a slide deck, their goal is to accomplish something beyond that, but people being people, they’re thinking they’ve decided that the deck or the site is all they need to get where they want to go.

Asking for the item is simply them trying to be efficient, to not waste their time or ours by asking for what they need –– but there is always a larger goal.

To be the most helpful to the client, we need to know their goal. Why? Because, maybe, a deck is not all they need. Maybe a website would be more useful. Or maybe a series of short videos would be a better solution. Or all the above.

In any case, if we don’t ask a few questions, they may not actually get what they really need.

“So, great you need your deck by the end of next week, right?”

“Yeah, and I think it will be about fifty slides.”

“Okay, fifty pages, and I’m assuming it’s to follow the brand guide in terms of look and feel. Let me ask, why do you think fifty slides?”

“Oh, right, my boss sent me the deck that she used at the same event last year. I’ll send it along. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Perfect. Could you tell me a bit more about the event and what you hope to have happen? I mean, what’s your goal?”

“This is a US-wide healthcare organization that is trying to put more control into patient self-diagnosis through AI. We hope to become a leading supplier of AI support services to them.”

“That’s huge, am I right? I mean, now that you mention it, aren’t people already using AI to diagnose their medical issues? I sure do.”

“You’re right. And it’s not just consumers. An AMA survey showed 66% of docs are using AI. Up from 38% a year earlier.”

“So, naturally, you want to grow in the category. Does your site support that goal?”

“Sort of, but it’s out of date and it’s buried.”

“We could help with that –– or maybe better –– we could do a microsite that supports your deck.”

The conversation could easily spin to a larger direct marketing effort, using questions in a conversational style that spins up from being centered around the initial ask to possibilities –– all in the client’s best interest.

Conversation elevated

The result is bigger than the additional work you’ve developed. To the client, you’ve gone from someone who does what’s asked to a person who is interested in them and knows how to help.

Note that the questioning starts with assuring the client that you’ll handle their immediate need for getting the deck done. Then you inquire about the deck itself. Then and only then do you spiral out to asking about the larger issues.

But you guys are in this every day, what would you ask?

The post Elevating Client Conversations appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

I’ve found that a short verbal summary of what it will take to complete the project usually gets clients to commit to moving forward. Include the deliverables, the schedule, and the budget in your summary. Why? Because, most of all, clients want to know what they will get, how long it will take, and what it will cost.

So, simply describe the deliverables, schedule, budget, pause, then ask, “How does that sound?” and wait for a reply. That’s the three-step close.

Why does this work? When things are just beginning, clients are eager to discuss what they need, but often don’t know how to outline the project entirely. So, what they are looking for is help in framing their need. If they’ve chosen to talk to you, it means they see you as qualified. They are poised to move forward. They just need a little nudge. And even if a competitor is in the wings, the person who demonstrates that they understand what’s required and what it will take to get the work done is very appealing.

Anything that stands in the way at this moment –– like telling the client you need to think about the project and write a proposal –– slows everything down or, worse, could send it to a competitor. Handshake agreements followed up with a one-page contract are far more effective.

Here’s a quick example of the three-step close with a fictitious client named Chris.

“Okay, Chris,” I glance at my notes, then continue with, “we’ve discussed providing a fifty-page Keynote deck, and you’re supplying the content for it, a three-minute motion graphic video, a series of ten banner ads and a landing page, all in support of your June event.”

Chris replies, “Ted, what about the email campaign I mentioned yesterday?”

“Oops. Sorry. I missed that. It was a series of five emails to create interest in your event, right?

Chris nods in agreement, and I re-summarize with, “Okay, the project deliverables include the five emails, the fifty-page deck, the three-minute motion, the ten banner ads, and a landing page, right?

I see Chris agreeing, so I continue, “In my experience, projects like this take six weeks, and our fees will total sixty grand.”

I pause for a moment, look up from my notes, and ask, “How does that sound?”

Chris agrees. We shake on it, and I say, “I’ll follow up with a one-page contract for your signature. Send me back a signed copy, and we’ll get started.”

I hope this doesn’t sound manipulative. It’s not. In effect, you’re helping the client envision the project, what’s involved, and how you’ll help them.

There’s another critical factor. A confident summary shows mastery. What clients want most from their creative partners, beyond the work, is a command of the subject and your confidence in being able to describe it directly.

Deliverables, schedule, budget, then say, “How does that sound?” and wait silently for a response. That’s the three-step close.

The post Short Take: The three-step close appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

AI lets you create art without learning traditional skills.

AI is a tool that gives anyone the ability to create art.

Some early human –– hundreds of thousands of years ago –– must have picked up a stick and delighted in drawing in the dirt. In a sense, that stick was the original universal drawing tool. Better yet, you could use a stick to tap out a beat. Sticks are universal musical instruments, too.

Time passed, and our tools became ever more sophisticated. Whether using a painter’s brush or a harp’s strings, our tools for making art became ever more complex, requiring training and skills. Artists were those who became adept at using the tools of art.

And artists became a class who used the tools of art to gain status and a livelihood with our art skills. I was one of those lucky enough to find my way in the world through my art and my creative nature.

Today, with AI, I see writers creating illustrations to accompany their writing, graphic designers becoming filmmakers with AI assistance, my own writing improving and attracting more followers with AI assistance, and so on.

Seeing all this, I wonder, I speculate, that AI is becoming a universal tool, like the stick we used long ago — a tool that makes it possible for all of us to exercise our creative nature and become artists.

Does it mean those of us, like myself, who spent our lives developing our creative skills are no longer relevant? No, it means we will see a flood of art unencumbered by training, which may let us know the spontaneity that early humans must have felt when drawing with a stick in the dirt.

Maybe AI will make it possible for us all to be artists again.

The post Negotiations: AI replaces artists appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Sure, this wasn’t going well.

But not wanting to seem uncool –– I was sixteen after all –– I moved with a swager and self-assurance I didn’t have.

As planned, Oscar Miller picked me up midday at the crossroads where the Greyhound bus dropped me. Loading my bag in the back seat he asked, “do you have boots.” I said yes.

“Better put them on.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Opening my bag I got out my new boots. Sitting on the back seat with the door open I replaced my Keds with the boots, shut the door and joined Oscar in the front. He pulled the lever into drive and we were off down the dirt road. He’s said the farm was a good twenty miles off.

It was hot and dry. The car at speed on dirt left a plume of dust. The crunching, rattling sound of gravel thrown up by the wheels made conversation difficult.

After a time, Oscar slowed, pulled over and pointing to a lone cow grazing on the side of the road said, “we need to get her back behind the fence.”

Getting out of the car he continued with, “I have emphysema from being gassed in the war. I can’t run, so you’ll have to do this.”

Knowing nothing about cows beyond milk cartons with cows on them, I felt the uneasiness beginning to rise within.

“Here, Ted, take my hat. Go up there past the cow, careful not to disturb her. Once past, say ten feet or so, turn and begin to jump up and down, yell as loud as you can and wave your arms wildly. She’ll trot down here, and I’ll shoo her into the gate.”

“Simple, see?”

Hat in hand, doubt in my belly, I head up the road giving the cow a wide birth as I pass her. She’s big.

Reaching the ten feet beyond I turn and look at Oscar, look at the cow, and feel the doubt overtaking me.

I wave my hands and say, “move cow,” knowing this is hopeless, knowing I’m going to fail.

Oscar yells instructions. I try jumping up and down. Nothing. The cow looks at me through brown, demure eyes and continues to chew. I’m helpless.

Oscar, disgusted heads my way. Takes the hat, and says, “go down and hold out the gate like I was. Hurry!”

I run down and grab up the wire gate from the ground while Oscar yells, “Yee-haw, giddy up little baby. Haw! Haw!”

            Turning I see the cow trotting my way with Oscar in close pursuit waving his hat and arms wildly. The cow trots neatly past me and the gate, and into the field, looking back at Oscar with a defiant “moo.”

            Oscar helps me leverage the gate back into position.

            Back in the car, in deep shame I say nothing. Thankfully neither does Oscar.

            Arriving at the farm Oscar points to some men working in the field, “see those men?”

            I nod.

            “Here take these gloves. Go up there. They’ll tell you what to do.”

            I take the gloves. And knowing this is make or break it time, I break into a dead heat towards the two men. Getting close I see they’re picking up bundles of hay and standing them in shocks. Shocks like the Halloween decorations at church. Arriving, they assign me to a row, and I try to build shocks, matching theirs. Big John quickly notes I don’t know what I’m doing and gives me a few pointers.

            I catch on and soon I’m doing it. Not as fast or as skillfully as John and Dave. But I’m doing it. We work at it in the heat for two-three hours. I’m hot and fragments of the straw sick to my sweat drenched skin. I itch from head to toe, but I keep it up, proud to be sharing the work.   A bit before six, John looking at his watch says, “supper time,” and we stop and take a breath.

            Dave, looking at my unfinished row, nods to John and they pitch in to help me finish my row. Finaly, now really done for the day, John wipes his brow, takes a swig of water and passes me the burlap rapped Clorox bottle that serves as a canteen. I take a drink and pass it to Dave, and we start the long walk down to the farm house.

            On the way in Dave slaps me on the back and says, “you’ll be okay.”

            And, lesson learned, I knew I was okay.

The post Negotiations: Reprimand appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

I’ve known since I was nine or ten that anxiety is the cause of my ankles’ itching. If the itch gets bad enough, it’s nearly impossible not to scratch.

Everything here is guaranteed to make me uncomfortable, starting with being called in to meet with the C-suite on short notice. I’d meet with the CMO several times but never with the CEO and the CFO –– hence my ankles.

We’re fifty-four floors up –– windows floor to ceiling –– with a sweeping view of the city and the river below.

The table seems of impossible size. Twenty-five, thirty feet long? That size and only one piece of wood?

The door opens, and I snap my head into the moment as a well-tailored woman –– mid-fifties? –– enters.

“Mr. Leonhardt, so good of you to come.”

I rise and begin to circuit the table and…

“The executive team will be here in a few moments. Please excuse the delay.”

With that, smiling, she exits the room.

I wander to the windows, wondering what the cause of the delay is.

Clearly, something is amiss. She didn’t introduce herself and left too quickly for any pleasantries.

I checked my watch, remembering my coach saying, “You have all the time in the world.” It’s not really true, but the thought always reminds me to be patient and consider the possibilities. They’re only ten minutes late.

I watch a tug gently nudge a cruise ship from a dock far below. Vacation thoughts pass through my head.

The door opens, and three execs enter. Low voices, I can’t make out, in rapid-fire conversation. It’s the CEO, CMO, and the CFO — all in jeans T’s.

I instantly feel out of place in my suit and tie. I feel the urge to remove my tie, but I resist and walk towards them, extending my hand to the CEO.

“Thanks for coming, Ted. I’m glad we could finally meet.” I nod and smile.

“And please excuse our tardiness.”

“Of course. No problem.” I respond and wait.

The CEO pulls out a chair and sits while the other two continue to converse, glancing at us while continuing their barely audible debate.

I sit.

We wait.

The CEO is going through his phone.

The two Cs sit. The CMO apologizes for the delay and asks, “Ted, what is the biggest obstacle you’ve experienced in a rebrand like this?”

That’s a signal. They’ve had some setbacks.

So, I answer with, “Oh, lack of agreement by senior stakeholders.”

I see the CMO nodding and the CFO sitting with her arms locked across her chest. I wonder –– perhaps hope –– that my answer was broad and general enough to relate.

The CMO quickly follows up with, “How do you deal with that?”

“I like to understand, as best I can, what the concern is. It’s always legitimate. I think conversation is the best way to understand. And I must say that on projects like this, the closer we get to launch, the more objections surface.”

“We might as well tell him.” This from the CEO, “our largest shareholder, the Chariman, just said no to the whole program.”

“Did he say why?” I ask. “I could assume, always dangerous, given that his grandfather founded the company, I could assume it’s personal.”

The CMO jumps in with, “We’ve reviewed all the research with him, and he did indicate he understood the why. I thought we had a green light.” She is flushed as she speaks. As the newest member of this team—as most of the CMOs are these days—perhaps she feels vulnerable.

She had pushed the program forward with tremendous enthusiasm. We were six months into it. Tons of money and lots of effort are at risk if the project is abandoned. For her, I suspect, it’s personal. She could lose her job if her decisions were found at fault.

I lean forward, “I’d like to help. I have some thoughts. But first, how do you think we should proceed?”

The CFO speaks for the first time. “As you guys know, I didn’t favor the rebrand. I’ve been here the longest and relayed the Chairman’s concerns from the beginning.” I couldn’t help but think, “smug bastard.”

After a bit of a pause, the CEO adjusts himself in his chair and says, “But when I went through the research with the Chairman, he seemed on board. More than onboard, he said go ahead.”

Okay, I think the CMO is all in, perhaps thinking her career depends on it. The CEO is into the logic of the change but could back out. And I wonder how the CFO feels about her situation. Maybe she’s not against the rebrand, just against the disapproval of the Chairman. Perhaps she wanted to be CEO and got passed over.

I stay quiet. Desperate to jump in. Hold your horses, Teddy boy.

“So, Ted,” The CEO asks, “what are your thoughts.”

With that, I know that whatever happens, I can maintain my role and help them consider the possibilities. I suggest I get with the CFO and share the footage from the consumer clinics with her. I knew she hadn’t had an opportunity to see it yet, and as I said this, I could see her nodding.

And second, I pointed out that I needed her insights and history with the Chairman to help me understand his view of the rebrand. Finally, if she agrees, determine how to give the Chairman the broadest possible understanding of the issues driving the project so he could decide whether to rebrand or not. I always like to show a willingness to listen and change my view as new insights surface.

I noticed the CFO had relaxed her arms, no longer crossing against her chest, and she smiled for a moment.

When I left that day, my ankles had calmed. No longer itching. We had a plan.

I did meet with the CFO and later the Chairman. The rebrand was canceled. In its place, a broad social effort was launched, which, in effect, rebranded the company by changing how people felt about it.

All three C-suite execs kept their jobs.

I wish I could tell you who the company was.

But I can say that reading the room was a massive help that day.

The post Negotiations: Read the room appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

Corporate layoffs announced daily.

CEOs, CMOs, and other top positions constantly changing.

Yet, corporations holding more cash now than any time in history

Stock market is erratic.

AI is taking and disrupting white-collar jobs.

University degrees no longer guarantee success.

U.S. gov laying off thousands.

Medicaid, Medicare, and Social Security threatened.

Tariffs dramatically threaten global trade.

Global relations upended with friends and foes alike.

War in Europe could spread.

The one percent now account for fifty percent of consumer spending.

And recent data shows consumer spend shrinking.

2025 GDP forecast downgraded.

Homelessness on the rise.

Depression on the rise.

Economic uncertainty increases suicide risk.

Unions weak despite recent victories.

All this, and you still want a raise? Well, why not? I’ve always felt –– maybe foolishly –– that sweeping trends didn’t really affect me as an individual. So yes, despite all the negative crap, let’s ask for more.

But the thing is, all this shit going on has a huge effect on how we feel. Confidence is required anytime we have to ask for money. I’ve never been able to ask for anything if I wasn’t feeling confident. And this backdrop of global chaos makes me, and probably you, feel more vulnerable than ever. It’s not a great starting point for asking for a raise.

So, how do I ask?

Start by knowing that your opposite, the person you’re negotiating with, is just as affected by the current chaos as you are. They may have the power of the purse, and you don’t, but they are human and blown by what’s going on, too.

Next, know what it is that they value in you. What do they value in your skills, past performance, and relationship with them? Whatever the special thing is you bring to the relationship –– that’s your leverage.

And knowing that they value you should restore some of your confidence. That always helps me.

Now, enter into a discussion with them about what they need, how they see their next steps, and how you can help. Think of the conversation as research or as a discovery session. Don’t think of it as a negotiation.

Think of it as an exchange of ideas, which could easily be a series of discussions, not a one-off.

Through the discussion(s), look for a plan to emerge from a merging of your knowledge and skills with theirs. Know that the more they see you as a colleague and collaborator, the more genuine these discussions will be. So put your head in collaborator mode, not “more for me” mode.

The goal of this exchange, whether as an employee, freelancer, or vendor, is to find a path forward that is in your and their best interest.

I’ve often described the above as changing the context. I’ve used or tried to use this method most of my life. When I got it right, I gained clients, revenue, and colleagues, no matter what was going on around me.

Once you’ve arrived at a plan to move forward, then, and only then, outline the schedule, budget, and deliverables. This is where you ask for what you need to succeed for them and yourself.

Remember, our corporate employers and clients hold huge cash hoards. Our salaries and fees are generally so small they are almost rounding errors. And, with all this chaos, the people we work with –– our clients and employers –– need us as collaborators more than ever.

The post Negotiations: Getting more appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

“I’m so sorry, but we need another week.”

“But you promised! I have ta present tomorrow!”

“I know, I know, but things changed, and we need…”

***

When you make a promise and don’t deliver your client feels betrayed. They can be thrown into a state of emotional distress and extreme anxiety. Naturally they’ve made commitments to others. Maybe this puts them in a tough spot with their boss. Whatever happens, betrayal puts them in an immensely vulnerable position.

They feel it in the moment. Your need for another week, or more money, or revised deliverables, hits them hard. And the hit can be traumatic.

***

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You were so confident when you scoped out the project…”

“I’m so sorry, but this was completely unexpected, I hope you’ll understand.”

“Understand! Are you crazy. I could lose my job!”

***

Let down, feeling deceived, they’ll remember that emotional hit for a long time. Damaging your relationship, perhaps, beyond repair.

Over promising and underdelivering is a classic problem. And young creatives seem to fall into all the time. I sure did.

People who work in creative services are often eager to please their clients –– meeting all client requests with a “yes we can” attitude. The attitude’s fundamentally good. But off times our eagerness goes too far, and we find ourselves out of budget, out of time, or unable to deliver something promised –– dramatically letting our client down.

It is far better to tell the client in advance, what is needed to meet their needs –– and in the process underpromising, making room to over deliver.

This is key: make room to overdeliver.

Set expectations low –– then exceed them. Deliver more than what was promised. Deliver in less time than expected. Come in under budget. Essentially surprising and delighting the client by managing their expectations.

In my experience the best way to avoid being unable to deliver what we promise is through systems that give us tools for estimating schedule, costs and deliverables. The best systems are based on past work on similar projects that are boiled down into rules of thumb that are easy to understand and remember.

We don’t ever want to lose our desire to please clients. Promising less and delivering more harnesses our desire to please by strategically managing client expectations in a positive way, for us –– and them.

***

“Thank you so much for being done ahead of time. The stress I went through with the other agency was unbelievable. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

***

That’s the feeling we want to leave out clients with.

The post Negotiations: Betrayal appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

“Ted, if you decided to open your own business, I’ll give you all the Alyeska work.”

Mike’s promise made my journey possible.

We launched our business the following week.

In that moment, Mike Dederer of Jay Rockey Public Relations became my model client.

Mike’s role and the nature of his firm — being in public relations — meant that I couldn’t target other PR companies directly, as they were his competitors. Instead, I focused on what made Mike exceptional: his skills as a writer, a gifted communication strategist, and a thoughtful manager. On a personal note, Mike was also an avid skier and one of the founders of Crystal Mountain, which added a relatable touch to our professional connection.

It soon became clear that the work we delivered for Mike was exactly what many of Seattle’s most established firms required. Whether it was banks, large retailers, manufacturers, insurance companies, phone companies, or even emerging tech startups, these organizations all needed robust design support for their marketing and corporate communications efforts. The professionals in charge — often writers, some with sales and marketing backgrounds — worked within tight-knit in-house teams. They valued well-crafted communication materials and enjoyed collaborating with visual storytellers who shared their passion for quality work. Many were also connected through the same professional associations, which helped me further define future clients.

Knowing precisely who our ideal clients were was only the first step. The next challenge was to connect with them in a manner that was genuine and far from “salesy,” especially when approaching individuals with greater professional status. Initially, despite having their contact details at my fingertips, I relied on word of mouth following our business launch. Slowly but surely, the phone began to ring, and we landed a significant opportunity from a professional referral — designing the annual report for Rainier Bank, Seattle’s second-largest bank.

Then came an unexpected stroke of luck thanks to the network of print sales professionals. These folks earned hefty commissions and were highly motivated. And they were deeply connected within the marketing, advertising, and PR communities. They often worked with clients in need of printed communications but lacking in-house design expertise.

Our mutual interests made us extensions of each other’s sales effort, providing introductions that allowed me to move past my hesitations about initiating contact. When prospects asked how we would approach their projects, it felt natural to step in and share my insights.

Our strategy evolved further with a targeted mailing campaign. With a clear list of contacts in hand, we began sending samples of our work. Initially, we mailed only when we had a standout project to showcase, but over time, it became a regular, monthly effort. Each mailing included a brief description of the featured project, which consistently prompted prospective clients to reach out. Although we were often one of several providers under consideration, every new presentation refined our approach and contributed to our growth.

As our reputation grew, invitations to speak at professional organizations began to arrive — an early sign of thought leadership, even before I knew the term. Throughout this journey, the clients we connected with most effectively shared characteristics with Mike Dederer: they were writers who appreciated excellence, employed by large (often public) companies, and held positions just shy of the C-suite.

I often likened our marketing efforts to the ripples created when a pebble is dropped into a lake. The initial splash represented our next ideal client, while the successive rings reached out to similar professionals — each ripple extending our influence further into the business community.

Sadly, I never skied with Mike. Wish I had.

The post Negotiations: Finding ideal clients appeared first on Ted Leonhardt.

When I investigate, I enter a learning mode, reducing my anxiety.

By considering negotiation the first creative activity in a project, I create the opportunity to shape the project to meet my needs and those of the client.

For me, replacing negotiation with investigation eliminates the potential for conflict and reduces my fear of confrontation to a manageable level.

Here’s the issue. It all starts with a feeling: Someone asks me for something, and I instantaneously feel an internal tug. My need to say yes quickly rises to an overwhelming level –– even though I know saying yes could set me up for less than the best result. It’s as though I can’t bear feeling responsible for disappointing others.

Maybe I’m too sensitive. I like to think I’m pretty good at empathizing with people and intuiting their feelings. Many of the creative professionals I work with are, too. But while our sensitivity creates a deep emotional attachment to our work and those we work with, it can also turn us into lousy negotiators. I often hear complaints like:

“I never want others to think I’m being pushy or mean.”

“I’m afraid I’ll lose the opportunity if I ask for too much.”

“I hate confrontation.”

I’ve rolled over and given in to these feelings of insecurity far too many times. Why?

Well, the easiest way to make that bad feeling disappear is to compromise and say yes.

“Yes,” I hear myself saying, even though the money is too small, the schedule too short, and the deliverables too large.

But over time, I’ve learned that my ‘yes’ impulse is a signal to self. I can’t shut down the impulse I think it’s somehow simply built into my psyche. But I can channel it into a productive use.

“Ted, could you get the drawing done by ten tomorrow morning?”

I’m so thrilled that someone wants me to draw something I feel an almost desperate need to say yes. I want to scream yes! But noting the feeling, I pause, just for a microsecond I pause, and instead of yes I ask:

“Isn’t the art intended for your presentation next week?”

And she replies, giving me a bit more information with, “Yes, a week from Friday is the big day…”

Note that I didn’t ask why tomorrow at ten. I asked a slightly more open-ended question to expand the frame beyond tomorrow and, hopefully, help her think beyond what she originally asked.

Naturally, she told me that she hoped to show the drawing to her boss in the morning but quickly adjusted, realizing she could do that later.

By asking a question and thinking of the negotiation as an investigation, my anxiety that comes from the fear of letting others down or the fear that I must say yes to be considered worthy slips away. What replaces it is gentle question-asking that opens the conversation to more possibilities.

Thinking of negotiations as investigation means exploring with our clients to find pathways forward that neither of us would have found on our own. Open-ended questions encourage thoughtful, expansive responses. Here are some of my favorites:

Please tell me more about that.

What did you think about it?

What do you think is the best path forward?

How could we respond differently?

What would you say the goal is?

Help me understand…?

What’s the best way for me to understand the audience?

Does an example you admire come to mind?

Have you done something like this before? What was that like?

How does this project support the overall strategy?

The key is to be curious about the other person, their challenges, and the overall context. The great thing about questioning is that it signals genuine interest, making the other person feel valued. In a very natural way, questioning helps you better understand the other person.

When negotiation becomes an investigation, the creative process begins, and the fear we associate with bargaining evaporates.

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