Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Beth Buelow. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Beth, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Can you open up about a risk you’ve taken – what it was like taking that risk, why you took the risk and how it turned out?
I’ve come to realize that, at least for myself, being a creative person means agreeing to live with a high risk tolerance. This isn’t just about taking a risk to earn a living from my creative pursuits and callings; the greater risk is of vulnerability, ego, and identity. If I’m not willing to risk those things, then I’ll not make much headway as a creator, let alone as a *professional* creator. But if I’m willing to open myself up and let go of attachment to how others perceive, understand, and accept me, then I stand a greater chance of making my creativity my livelihood. When I think of “livelihood,” it’s not just about money, although that’s an element of it. It’s about spending my time and energy doing and being what makes me feel most alive.
I had my first real lesson in releasing attachment and risk when I wrote my first book, “The Introvert Entrepreneur.” I worked hard to find an agent, build a platform, craft a winning proposal, and write a meaningful and useful book. Validation came when it was purchased by a major publisher. But I wasn’t through needing validation; after all, you work that hard, don’t you want the audience to say, “I loved it!”? While there was little actual financial risk to me if it flopped, my ego would have been bruised and battered. I felt like the risk would have been worth it if it was well received. And it was. The book is still in print, eight years after its initial publication. While the royalty checks have shrunk over the years, I’m still incredibly grateful every time one comes.
During the writing phase, there were a few colleagues who questioned my focus on finding a traditional publisher for the book. They felt it was too risky; to hear them tell, I’d be giving up control and wasting time. But to me, the bigger risk would be not going for it! In the end, I both had ample control and just the right timing. I had confidence that my message deserved the distribution and platform a publisher would provide. It was a lesson in believing in myself and what I have to offer that I carry with me to this day.
I also learned how to separate myself from my creative output. I realized that once I released my work to the world, it was no longer mine. The relinquishing of control my colleagues warned me about didn’t have anything to do with the publisher; it was about giving up control of how my work was received, interpreted, and used. Whether the book succeeded or failed, that wasn’t about me. It was about the reader. Yes, I put a piece of myself into the book and saw it as a reflection of me. But that’s all it was: a reflection of me in a particular point in time and space. It wasn’t the full story. If I felt good about what I shared, that’s what mattered in the end. Of course I want the book to be a positive influence. I just realized that if I did the best I could, once it reached a reader’s hands, it was up to them whether it was useful.
Now I am on the threshold of a new risk: putting my wholehearted energy into my photography. It feels more vulnerable than anything I’ve done before. It’s both a financial and ego risk. I’m much less naive than when I started my entrepreneurial journey. It’s calling on me to fully live into two mantras I adopted some 15 years ago: “I am open to outcome, not attached,” and “I can handle whatever happens.”
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.
My life has been defined by creativity, from my earliest memories of writing short stories and poems as a child, to being obsessed with my clarinet from sixth grade through graduate school, to becoming a nonprofit administrator, which transitioned into being an entrepreneur, author, and coach, and now, a photographer. There’s never been a time when I’ve not been writing, making music, or photographing, all with the goal of adding something meaningful to the world.
My original intention from about age 12 onward was to be a professional classical musician. Music was the water I swam in. My identity was “Beth the clarinetist.” I was well on my way, until I went to graduate school. It was there that I realized: I loved music too much to be a musician. The pressure to perform and compete — both activities I had previously thrived on — was overwhelming. After years of complete confidence, I had a limiting belief that stopped me in my tracks. I was sitting in a dark recital hall, listening to one of my fellow students perform, when I thought, “I don’t belong here.” At the time I didn’t know what to do with that thought, so I allowed it to sabotage me (I now see it for what it was: a nasty case of imposter syndrome). I completed my degree program, but left my music dream behind to pursue arts administration.
After about 12 years in nonprofit and arts administration, I found my way to professional coaching. I took a rigorous training course, got credentialed, and got to work supporting individuals and leaders in confronting their own limiting beliefs, saboteurs, and fears. I walked alongside them to tease out fact from fiction and bring greater awareness to their strengths and values. We shined a light in the shadows, built on the bright spots, and created a path forward. My focus was working with introverted entrepreneurs, but my client base included a full range of energetic types, all looking at how they could foster more acceptance, awareness, and accountability in their lives.
Now that I’ve been coaching for 15 years, I’ve shifted my focus to training and mentoring other coaches. Over the past two years, the call to spend more time with my photography has grown stronger and more insistent. While I’ve had a camera in my hand regularly for about 10 years, it’s only in the past two that I’ve crossed over into feeling an urgent need to devote myself to it.
My business is shifting to honor my training and desire to support others through creativity coaching, while also focusing on my photography. Creativity coaching is for anyone who finds themselves identifying with my moment in that recital hall some 30 years ago: motivated and stuck, hardworking and wondering if all the work will ever amount to anything worthy.
Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?
My motto is, “If you’re not amazed, you’re not paying attention.” It might seem simple, even cliche, but my main goal is to live with deep gratitude and amazement of the world around us and to facilitate others in seeing with gratitude and amazement. One of my favorite responses to my work is, “I never would have seen that!” because it opens up the possibility the person will start to see with fresh eyes, finding beauty and meaning in unexpected places. This creative seeing is what helps us live as a human *being* instead of just a human *doing.* And I believe this helps us all be more compassionate, curious, and empathetic people.
Are there any books, videos, essays or other resources that have significantly impacted your management and entrepreneurial thinking and philosophy?
There are too many to count! There are a few resources, however, that stick out.
Books that have shaped my perspective over the years: “The Inner Game of Tennis” by Timothy Gallwey gave me practical ways to leverage mindset and focus. “Mastery” by George Leonard reinforced the lessons of “Inner Game” and added the idea of embracing plateaus as times for rest, reflection, and recharging. “Made to Stick” by Chip and Dan Heath is essential reading for any entrepreneur and creative who wants their ideas to cut through the noise. I’m currently reading “The Meaning in the Making” by Sean Tucker, and I’m appreciating his insights on ego and vision.
There are some videos I come back to repeatedly to keep me centered in a productive, generative mindset. One is Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED Talk, “Success, failure and the drive to keep creating.” Another is
Brené Brown for 99U, “Why Your Critics Aren’t The Ones Who Count.” A mentor shared a video of Neil Gaiman’s inspirational 2012 commencement address for the University of the Arts; it’s enjoyable and essential viewing. I also love and frequently recommend Phil Hansen’s TED Talk, “Embrace the Shake,” which reminds us of the power of limitations, as well as to be flexible and expansive in how we see ourselves and our art.
Finally, a speech from William Deresiewicz delivered to the plebe class at the United States Military Academy at West Point in October 2009 titled “Solitude and Leadership” has provided me with the best advice on patience. He shared, “I find for myself that my first thought is never my best thought. My first thought is always someone else’s; it’s always what I’ve already heard about the subject, always the conventional wisdom. It’s only by concentrating, sticking to the question, being patient, letting all the parts of my mind come into play, that I arrive at an original idea. By giving my brain a chance to make associations, draw connections, take me by surprise. And often even that idea doesn’t turn out to be very good. I need time to think about it, too, to make mistakes and recognize them, to make false starts and correct them, to outlast my impulses, to defeat my desire to declare the job done and move on to the next thing.”
Contact Info:
- Website: http://bethbuelowphotography.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bethbuelowphoto/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bethbuelowphotography/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/bethbuelow/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@PixelsHeartandArt/playlists (channel in development, launching late 2023)
- Other: The Introvert Entrepreneur: Amplify Your Strengths and Create Success on Your Own Terms: https://www.amazon.com/Introvert-Entrepreneur-Amplify-Strengths-Success/dp/0399174834/
Image Credits
Personal Photo credit: TJ Thorne. All other images taken by Beth L. Buelow.