We were lucky to catch up with Paige Hulse recently and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Paige thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. We’d love to hear the backstory behind a risk you’ve taken – whether big or small, walk us through what it was like and how it ultimately turned out.

“I want every word of this to be on the record, because someone has to teach you millennials how to actually work, not waltz off to Scottsdale for arbitrary trips.”

I stared back at the federal judge berating me; a pent-up barrage of aggression interrupted only by the sound of the court report furiously preserving every word on the record, ignoring the smirking gaze of the lying opposing counsel across the courtroom. It was supposed to be a humiliating moment, intended to punish me right back into the “boundary lines” of my storied profession, back to “doing things the way they’re supposed to be done; how they’ve always been done.”

Because apparently, anyone under the age of 45 was presumed to be “errant” and had to be corralled back.

The judge was, in fact, right-this was a transformative moment in my career. Arguably, the most transformative.

But in a completely different way than he intended. If he had asked, he would’ve found that we were in agreement. Practicing law and truly advocating for our client’s best interests is something that every lawyer should treat with nearly reverent care. And, if I was being entirely honest, practicing in the way in which I was then practicing did feel like it limited me a bit from being as fully invested as I could have.

In that moment, I recognized all of the above, but at the same time, I was overwhelmed with an undeniable, unexplainable, pervasive sense of peace. It caught me off guard at first. I was humbled, sure. But simultaneously: my gut feeling was so strong, it stripped worries away. I knew three things to be true:

My calling was advocacy
I was experiencing firsthand how foolish it can be to follow assumptions based upon “how it’s always been”, without asking questions first. Knowledge and wisdom aren’t mutually exclusive.
Despite that duality, unequivocally: this was not the way I was meant to practice this vocation.
And with that realization, I felt something inside of me physically snap. The tension I’d been wrestling with internally suddenly made sense: yes, I was supposed to practice law, as I’d always dreamed; and no, it hadn’t felt off because I’d followed the wrong path. I needed to walk down this specific path to recognize that there was a slightly different way it could be done.

Time can make memories hazy, like light reflected through rose colored glass, to be sure. Being publicly humiliated was, in fact, humiliating. My only response to that judge was my attempt to pull off my blazer and expose the tubes hanging out of the only part of my 4-sizes-too-big suit, which my boss (thankfully) stopped me from doing. But even in the midst of the humiliation, there was that undeniable gut feeling.

For more than a year, I’d dutifully been the first at the office each day, building this career in this profession I’d confidently declared for myself at the rip age of 11. But that whole time, something felt a bit off. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I enjoyed my colleagues, and still, to this day, hold a deep sense of admiration and gratitude for the way my bosses pushed me, allowing me to actually get into the courtroom right away, when most associates are stuck pushing paper behind a desk. At first I chalked it up to natural growing pains; even more natural when you’re a litigator suddenly appearing in court for the first time. I thought it may just be the awkwardness of getting my sea legs under me, but that wasn’t it. I’d later learn, diving into the discomfort of a foreign challenge was actually a scenario in which I thrive.

To be clear, it also had nothing to do with rebellion (nor is this story intended to be a case for arbitrary rebellion). It was, also, a recognition made much easier given the fact that I was in the throes of fighting a life-threatening illness.

I believe we’re made to pursue a vocation. A vocation and a job are two entirely different things. The latter is something you clock in and out of, working to (typically) an undefined “someday” (retirement? Happiness in that position, someday?). A vocation, on the other hand, may not be the easiest road, but brings contentment. Similar to the verse “aspire to live a quiet life and work with your hands”. A satisfying trouvaille that brings the quiet contentment of a day well-spent, that left those you encountered a little better than you found them. The honest, true, and pure work that allows you to rest deeply at the end of a full day. Such a simple concept that can take a lifetime to fully realize (not just recognize, but see through into fruition).

My seachange moment occurred early in my career (mercifully), a shining beacon of light in the midst of what by all intents and purposes looked like a tragic time. This day in court came after 5 grueling days at Mayo Clinic, undergoing test after test, and 3 months of a complete inability to eat food. Any food, at all. And the day before, the receipt of the heavy burden of a life-changing diagnosis. I was home because Mayo had requested that I had my estate plan drafted before an operation. This emergency hearing just so happened to occur a few hours after hearing the heavy news from the doctor. For context, that opposing counsel knew all of this, and still chose to tell the judge I was gone on vacation. The purpose of this hearing was only to deliver a tongue lashing- no arguments were even requested.

It’s much easier to smile in the face of what, according to social/industry norms should be “rock bottom”; it’s easier to listen to the quiet voice of intuition, when just 24 hours previously you’ve been given such a diagnosis. And when you lose a core human function, like eating, it strips a level of humanity. You soon learn that every single day, you’ll wake up a little less than the day before; a little less energy, a little more pain. Today, this day, is the best day you’ll have. You quickly learn the simple power of choice- followed by action. The stripping away of every single thing that doesn’t actually matter, leaving room only for what does. You gain discernment.

The gift of one career-altering event colliding with a life-changing illness resulted in a complete metamorphosis. That seemingly odd, one-off moment was the greatest gift. And despite this incredible clarity, the next step didn’t occur overnight, but took months of precise planning to execute.

Today, six years and five businesses later, I recognize that when your calling hits you in the face, on some level, you know. It may begin looking like a string of non-sequential curiosities, until one day, you can’t quite quiet that voice anymore. And you don’t have to impulsively jump right in.

Vocation and entrepreneurship aren’t mutually exclusive, nor is this to be confused with yet one more romanticized call to entrepreneurship. Like anything, it’d be foolhardy to think that business is a one size fits all scenario. BUT, for those of you who may be following those curiosities (or, like myself, are deep in the midst, each day learning to grow and scale to new heights), I hope it’s a wake up call. There’s a much-needed conversation to be had; now, more than ever.

The compilation of these articles will be a dialogue on the case for entrepreneurship, methodologies to implement, and insight on thriving in the midst of difficulty. I’ll be sharing some of my own stories as well, not because of any self-proclaimed know-how, but because the most commonly asked question I receive about entrepreneurship is “how did I know when”? And the truth is, I didn’t. No one does. I found my path in the midst of indescribable pain, literal starvation, when I was being offered disability packages. Permission is a myth.

And yet, even then- the recognition of the richness that beauty brings; the richness of building something pure and honest through sheer grit; the audacious goal of pioneering a very conventional industry, juxtaposed with the quiet confidence that this was right. And it took finding beauty in the pain, calm in the midst of battle, and a pioneering mind rising from the ashes of the dumpster fire that my situation appeared to be.

Paige, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

In 2015, I was “on track”, with everything I had worked for years to achieve in law school. After getting married to my college sweeatheart just days after passing the bar, I jumped right into the career I had worked so hard to enter: I was an oil and gas litigator in the highest-producing state in the country. It was a “trial by fire” experience”, and I loved every minute of it. Just months into practicing, one of the longest-serving judges in the state pulled me into his chambers to speak to me personally about my career path. “Remember”, he said, “no one sees the scars that pioneers bear”. By his estimate, at the time, I was only one of three women in the state exclusively practicing oil and gas litigation. In that industry, there are few opportunities to hide. Instead, most challenges occurred in the courtroom, or negotiation rooms where I was vastly outnumbered.

I became accustomed to, and welcomed the opportunity of being “the only”.

And then, a year in, I “relapsed” with a terrible condition that at the time, could not even be diagnosed. Once again, I had pioneered the diagnosis of this condition just years before, and was one of the first to relapse. Instead of finding answers, I silently suffered every day, getting sicker and sicker.

To distract myself from the pain, and with few other opportunities for outlets given my health, I turned to a creative outlet to distract myself when I would return home from the office. I had always loved calligraphy (in fact, many of my bar prep notes were calligraphed, simply to etch them into my memory). I have synthesia, so to me, calligraphy looked like a watercolor painting appearing across the page. At the time, I also had several friends getting married, and this “little creative side hustle” started earning money, and I began asking questions like “when is this a business? When do I need an entity? What contracts do I need”, etc. I was also getting to know the other wedding professionals my friends hired for their events, and inadvertently began assisting with the contract questions that would arise, etc. At the same time that this was unfolding, I was getting sicker, and was told I only had a small window of time. My response surprised me: I chose to jump head-first into entrepreneurship. As funny as it sounds, from an advocacy perspective, there are crossovers behind the creative and oil and gas industries. Both rely on the grit and gamble of entrepreneurship; nothing is guaranteed, but the strong, steady head prevails. It was the common thread between both industries that drew me to the legal field in the first place.

Months after I survived the “window” that Mayo labeled me with, I started my law firm, Paige Hulse Law. Soon after, the Creative Law Shop. My passion for advocacy didn’t just lie with helping entrepreneurs start their businesses, but helping entrepreneurs create businesses that often endures. This frequently involves often-overlooked strategies; most commonly, the role of intellectual property.

Like most business owners, I know what it feels like to risk everything to build a business from nothing. I know what it feels like to have to get my own trademark to protect myself from infringers; to have to put strategic growth plans in place to provide for my family when the unknown occurred. This is why my passion is not just helping my clients achieve success, but find confidence in the legalities of their business, so that they create something lasting.

Raised by a family of multi-generational entrepreneurs, I’ve seen firsthand the difference between legal counsel, and true advocacy in a business. When I started my firm, I thought that emulating the role of true advocacy meant being the one -stop-shop for any entrepreneur. Formations, partnership agreements, litigation, mergers and acquisitions, that was true advocacy. And it was, to a point. Until it wasn’t.

In 2020, I watched large corporations intentionally prey on small businesses, primarily by weaponizing intellectual property. Every single case I saw was avoidable. One in particular irrevocably changed the course of my legal career. A husband and wife duo in the midst of scaling their business to provide for their growing family decided to create a new offering. A Fortune 50 company caught wind, and sent her a “very friendly” cease and desist letter (yep, these exist, and are usually a “wolf in sheep’s clothing” approach. But how would you actually know?). They tried to handle it on their own; they had just received their trademark registration, after all!

Through this seemingly friendly correspondence, the law firm on the other side got the real story out of my client: they were branching into this new field to combat the rising costs of their *almost finalized* adoption. At the 11th hour, the law firm dropped the hammer, and by the time I received a tearful phone call, the client had to completely rebrand both of their businesses. Overnight, a half a decade’s worth of building a brand reputation vanished overnight.
In that moment, I knew that if they had had an outside intellectual property advocate, this all could have been avoided 10 months prior, with the receipt of that first letter.

Intellectual property is the undercurrent of every business; often overlooked until a reputation is attacked, a business is scaling to the next level, or selling. It’s the easiest target for adversaries; while simultaneously the easiest strategic roadmap to build for a business. It’s the Achilles heel of every business, and the focus of my advocacy for my clients.
I don’t just say I’m passionate about helping business owners navigate the often-intimidating world of building not just building a sound foundation for their business, but leveraging what they’ve built for strategic growth tomorrow. I walk it out alongside my clients, because I’m in the exact same boat, which provides quite the strategic vantage point.
I know what businesses need in order to utilize the asset that is their IP. To me, it’s not a convoluted to do list. It’s a black and white cadence that makes up the symphony of a successful business. That’s the role of a true advocate in a non-hobbyist business.

What do you think helped you build your reputation within your market?

Integrity. The “knowledge” behind my work (and thereby, advice for clients) is not just based upon something I studied. It’s not just “knowing the law”. It’s knowing how to interject that knowledge and interweave a unique business perspective into negotiations that land a deal, or win the negotiation.

My reputation is the byproduct of the physical act of walking out the path of entrepreneurship alongside my clients. Oftentimes, the strategic advice I impart to my clients is a blend of both legal and business, because both must be considered in order for a business to fully recognize it’s strategic potential.

And finally, my story. There will always, always be challenges. But for as aspiring and diligent entrepreneur, we can learn to smile at the challenge, recognizing that opposition is the breeding ground for growth and maturity in business.

Have any books or other resources had a big impact on you?

Books- all of Robert Greene’s books; David Goggins has written great books on the topic of mental toughness.

However, entrepreneurship is more than just challenge and mental toughness. It’s learning to smile even when (especially when) we’re presented with something challenging. For this reason, I’ve also found books like Shauna Niequest’s “Cold Tangerines” that teach the art of celebration.

But, by far and away, the most impactful impact on my management and entrepreneurial journey (particularly in regards to the leadership requirements you face as you grow and scale) I have learned from our soldiers and commanders we support through our 501(c)(3), the Special Forces Support Fund. In particular, one individual has taken decades of lessons learned from the battlefield, and now uses that wisdom to help advise businesses. Bar none, I have not encountered a stronger influence on my business, and I look forward to making these trainings more available for my clients.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.paigehulse.com; www.paigehulselaw.com; www.shopcreativelaw.com
• Instagram: @creativelawshop, @paigehulselaw, @thepaigehulse (my Instagram was just stolen on 8/6; in the process of rebuilding)
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/paige-hulse/

Image Credits
Headshot: Amanda Brigham Brand Shoot: Christine Gosch Equestrian Photo: Amanda Hartfield