I’m writing a book to give men a new role model.
I’m creating a regional startup ecosystem
I’m writing a university masters course in entrepreneurship
I’m consulting and advising other businesses.
For a long time I’ve battled with myself and made vain attempts to shackle my creativity.
I’ve tried to put myself in a box. I’ve searched for the right label.
"Writer" "Creative" "Entrepreneur" "Founder".
I’ve tried to understand myself, to make myself fit in and help others to understand me.
One minute I want to be the Mayor of Stoke and tirelessly campaign for better, forego all monetary outcomes to do the right thing.
The next I am licking my lips at a commercial opportunity, eyes gleaming at the money that can be made.
Two days later I want to end toxic masculinity and will do whatever it takes to change the world for men, money is needed, but not the priority.
By the end of the week I want to quit everything for Sarah and I to go and walk the South West Coastal path with just a tent and money for food and accomodation.
After a good nights sleep I’m ready build the startup community in Stoke and teach entrepreneurship to 32 students.
Evening comes and buying a unit on the high street in Stone feels like a cracking idea, I’d love a bookshop. I’ll go on eBay now and look for more James Bond first editions.
This. Is me.
I can’t understand it, I don’t need to.
There have been times where I have wished I could be different. “Normal” "Straight-laced", "linear", "obvious".
I’ve wished I could just do one thing. Stick out Sanctus to the end. Take a job at Staffs Uni. Start another business.
I can’t though and I can’t resist myself. I can’t resist the burning desire I have every day to do one thing, create.
That’s all I want to do. In whatever form, whatever moment. I want to create. I have to. It’s my oxygen.
One minute it’s a book, the next it’s a business, then it’s an experience. Then I need to rest to create more. But that’s all I want to do.
For years I apologised for it, for being “mad” “crazy” “bonkers” “all over the place” for thinking out loud and changing my mind every five minutes.
Now though, I’ve given up. Given up trying to change, given up apologising, given up feeling embarrassed.
It makes no sense at all, AND it makes all the sense in the world.
This is so obviously me.
I tried to wear one hat, when the truth is I wear many.
I’ve come to accept AND.
Writer AND entrepreneur. Fearless AND doubting. Selfless AND selfish. Capatalist AND philantropist.
I accept all of that, especially the parts that “make no sense at all”
They’re the best bits.
Sent teary eyed (I didn’t know I needed to write this)
James x
UPDATE
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Writing
Who am I?
Writer, founder, husband, always tanned.
Wannabe poet, imposter, taboo buster.
Thinker, philosopher, not a drinker
Joker, chancer, bad dancer.
shoulder chipped Stokie
champagne hippie
Asks questions,
the big ones
best ones.
Always
asking
Who
am
I?