Brian Shaler

In 2008, I decided to change jobs. I reached out to employers I had deflected while happily working away on exciting projects. I don’t remember what made me choose the company I ended up working for, but it very well could have been the opportunity to travel.

They wanted me to move to SF and work in their headquarters (they had a satellite office in Santa Cruz), but they ended up giving me two job offers. One included a high salary, a signing bonus, and required I live in SF and work on-site full-time. The second offer had about $40,000 chopped off the salary, no signing bonus, and allowed me to work from home, while visiting the office for at least 2 days per month.

For almost 3 years, I was in SF every calendar month, and for the last of those years, I subletted an apartment there.

The brilliant thing, though, is this: my reduced salary was still very competitive against local Phoenix salaries, and the yearly travel cost was less then the difference. It was a win-win. My employer saved money while paying me fairly well and covering my travel expenses.

While in Phoenix, I got to live the work-at-home freelance lifestyle (i.e. flexible hours and no work/life balance), which helped me get actively involved in the Phoenix tech community.

Oh, how I miss direct deposit..

Today is Thanksgiving, and people are saying what they are thankful for, including life-changing, path-altering things. If there was one moment in time, a single realization, or a crucial decision which set me off on this path I have taken, I think I know what it is. When I stopped to think about it, I was surprised by the answer.

I’ve seen this type of instant occur for other people—in some cases, I’ve been told I was there for it. Something happens, and opens a new door for you or gives you an all new perspective. You walk through this door, even though it feels strange, like uncharted territory. That leads to something else happening, and then something else. It’s a chain reaction that, once set in place, will continue to move you in new directions, even if you don’t realize your new life can be traced back to on event, person, conversation, book, or whatever.

This chain reaction, in a less combustive term, is the path of your life. Is your life stuck in traffic on the highway with everyone else, going to a 9-5 cube farm job? Sometimes it’s not your decision to get kicked off that highway and into the woods, as you can see in the Lemonade documentary. In most cases, if you really want to keep that comfortable, consistent life, you can fight your way back on it. So whether or not it’s your choice to get off the beaten path, it’s up to you to stay on it and see where it’ll take you. This decision is the beginning of a journey.

Setting off on a new path doesn’t necessarily require quitting your job or getting laid off.

After my path-altering realization, I kept my job for a couple of years, and then I got a new job and worked there for almost three years. So for me, entrepreneurship only came after many other things happened and I achieved what I referred to as exit velocity. At some point, it did become inevitable.

In 2005, I realized that even if I reached the peak of my career, having a good portfolio doesn’t make you an industry leader. At the same time, I was starting to wonder how Digg was taking off, even though it was the same content as Slashdot. I realized digg was primarily successful because of Kevin Rose, who had spent years on one of the only nationally broadcasted TV channels that focused exclusively on technology. That gave him an incredible amount of exposure within the tech industry. If you or I had launched Digg at the same time he did, it very well may have floundered, as the first 10,000 users of a User Generated Content site are the most crucial when going up against an incubant like Slashdot. When people heard Kevin Rose had founded Digg, many surely signed up simply because his name was attached to it.

That realization in 2005 set off a series of reactions that eventually led to my change in jobs, starting my business, and my world-wide couch surfing adventures. Digg was where I started getting my name out in the tech industry, which is how my next employer found me. I built simple applications that crawled Digg’s data and allowed Digg users to explore and interact with it. My name was plastered all over it, in hopes that it would start to look familiar among people in the tech industry.

When I signed up for Twitter, it seemed very similar to Digg, except more personal and more interactive. Twitter was primarily made up of people in technology, and thus people I wanted to get my name out to. I did the same thing I did on Digg. I ran experiments and developed simple applications, such as twitter-based games and crappygraphs.com. Next thing you know, I was the second most-followed user on the site! Twitter, then, indirectly led to many more things happening in my life.

But would any of this have happened if I hadn’t made that realization in 2005?

While I absolutely loved working in the advertising field, where you constantly experiment and create new things for name-brand clients, there was a downside. It’s a cutthroat industry, where all agencies are trying to do at least one project with any major brand so they can have a more impressive portfolio. This leads to super aggressive promises to “get your foot in the door” with a new client. By the time you’re done breaking your back on your first project with a new client, they’re shopping around for the next agency to out-low-ball you.

As a developer, you’re a resource. A cog in the machine. The more work they put on your plate, the later you work and the more you get done. But with all this undercutting going on, you end up working too hard for too little.

It was well worth it for me, at least at first. My life changed once I had completed that project for Mazda & Quiksilver. My portfolio went from having nothing to having a cool looking project for major brands. The difference between 0 and 1 was immeasurable. They could have paid me nothing and it would’ve been worth it to me.

But what’s the difference between having 10 and 11 name-droppable clients in your portfolio? The value of that 11th client, I realized, was miniscule compared to the 1st.

When you’re listing the clients you’ve worked with, people stop paying attention after about 4 names. By the 7th, they start thinking about how pompous you are. By the 9th, they start thinking about how to ditch you.

When I had this realization, I started to think about what I was getting in return for all the hours and and sweat I dumped into my work. That’s when I realized my days in the ad world were numbered.

I dropped out of college twice. I used to say it was to make it count.

Where I stand on education is complicated. I did what was best for me and my career, and it’s by no means the right answer for people in different positions.

My decision to drop out was based on a number of factors.

First, I’m not a scholar. I always despised homework my D in high school Trigonometry was due to scoring the highest in my class on tests while not turning in any homework assignments. In high school Algebra and Algebra II, I was constantly scorned for not showing my work (or enough work). Where we clashed was that I valued the result and they valued the process. If I understand something, it feels like a waste of time to walk through elementary steps over and over. My educational career was doomed.

While in high school, I got a computer. It sucked me in. I didn’t go to parties. Instead I was at home, on the computer, learning. With a strong background in logic and math growing up, I was well suited to do visual programming. Code-driven animation, interaction, complex effects, physics, video games, etc. I taught myself Flash, with the help of online tutorials and forums.

I decided to get a degree that would help ready me for a career in video games or special effects in video.

Here’s where I lucked out. Because I had become proficient with Flash, I could jump into a lucrative field that flexed similar brain muscles: interactive web development. I had no experience and no degree, but I had years of code samples. I sent my experiments to a local interactive advertising agency, and they decided to give me a shot. They put me on a project that they could assign to someone else if I couldn’t pull my weight. My first commercial software development project? A co-branded microsite for Mazda & Quiksilver.

People who had the degree I had yet to earn would be lucky to land a job like that. The piece of paper doesn’t mean much in some circumstances. Instead, where I was also very fortunate, I was good at something visual. I could *show* my abilities. Then, once I started lining my portfolio with major brands, I realized I had a stronger job-seeking arsenal than any degree could provide.

It was quite a profound realization to have at the age of nineteen.

“Brian, I’ve known you long enough to know that if you stick with something, it’ll be awesome. The problem is you don’t.“

That came from someone who knows me fairly well. The quote may sound rather blunt, so I’ll explain why I feel it’s hitting the nail on the head.

First, let’s anonymize the first part, to get to the point that matters: “If you stick with something, it’ll be awesome.” Maybe it’s not true for everyone, but I feel like most people have the capacity to take an idea they’re passionate about, bring it to life, and make it awesome.

Take a hobby, an interest, or an idea you have, and make it your full-time focus for a week. Talk to at least a dozen people about it. Work on it all day and all night. At the end of that week, you’ll feel like a new person. Your passion for whatever it is will be ignited. I know this, because it happens to me from time to time.

That leads me to the second part of the original quote and the title of this article. I’m a tinkerer and an explorer. I come up with ideas and challenges, imagine how they’ll work, and then try to prove it to myself. I could very easily build 50 prototypes for 50 different ideas in one year. But that wouldn’t get me anywhere. In a way, it’s a weakness. Any talent would be squandered. Five years ago, I started making changes to how I tinkered.

Normally, the figure of speech, “throwing spaghetti on the wall,” means you throw the spaghetti and see if it sticks. I, on the other hand, usually don’t wait to see what sticks. It’s the act of throwing that excites me.

During high school and college, while I was teaching myself how to write software, I would spend hours working on experiments. If I got them to work, they would get tucked away in a directory on my computer. Squandered talent.

In 2006, I decided to turn the weekend projects into tech-world publicity. Still, I was just throwing spaghetti. At least I started doing it in public.

While my data visualization consulting scratches my spaghetti-throwing itch (no two projects are the same), what will I have in 5 to 10 years? Just a list of dozens of things I’ve made for other people. People like my friend Francine would probably agree that I should take at least a fraction of my time to work on projects for me. And more specifically, fewer projects taken much more seriously.

My plan? Two more months of client work, followed by X months working on my own project. I’m going to make it my full-time focus. I’m going to talk to hundreds of people about it. I’m going to work on it all day and all night. I’m going to ignite my passion for something that’s been kindling for several years.