A Double Life

I have a secret to share: I’ve been leading a double life. For many readers of this blog, I’m Christopher Laney, a writer. But there’s another side to me: Chris Laney, businessperson.

I’ve always used “Christopher” on magazine bylines, mainly because there is a heavy metal rocker named Chris Laney who claimed that domain name well before I ever thought about acquiring it. To carve out my own space on the web, I had to use my full name.

It’s taken a while for me to realize those seemingly separate sides—writer and businessperson—are not only one and the same, but are in harmony as well. Years ago in my writing, I distanced myself from the business persona because I had mundane images of it. When a business partner and I sold our company to another firm, I told myself I’d stick around for several years and draw a nice paycheck helping that organization integrate the old company while working on doing more writing. I made great strides over those years, penning articles for increasingly better magazines, creating and teaching a successful writing class, and starting the novel I’d always threatened to write. When the time came I felt I could no longer add value to the parent company who bought us, I said goodbye.

I took a year off to accomplish two goals: 1) finish the novel, and 2) lay the foundation for a new company where my future business partners and I could grow into a business that ran well with talented, trustworthy individuals we brought into the fold. Still, I felt the need to keep the two sides separate, mainly because I mistakenly believed being a writer and a business owner were mutually exclusive. At least until I had an epiphany when a past conversation flashed in my head.

It’s strange how we sometimes hear words on a surface level, but don’t understand their full meaning until later. When my friend, Kevin Swain, told me what I’m about to share, I focused on the wrong part. It didn’t click until later he’d conveyed something profound, something that would later stitch up a jagged tear inside me, and unite two sides of myself trying to pull away from each other.

Kevin and I worked together at the parent company that bought my firm. Sometime near the end of my last months there, we talked as we drove to a meeting. Kevin is also a pilot so we shared common interests. On the drive, Kevin revealed his father was the CEO of a large aviation company. Kevin had my interest right there. But what he relayed next took a year to take root and grow in my mind.

Kevin said, “Early on, I asked my dad, ‘What exactly do you do at your company?’”

His CEO dad said, “I’m a storyteller, son. I go out and share our story to get people excited about it. Excited to buy from us and excited to work for us.”

Kevin went on to tell me interesting aspects of his dad’s company and the conversation veered to other topics from there. Somehow, I missed the value of the gem my friend handed me. I took the gem without giving it a second glance and shoved it deep in my pocket where it lay hidden for a long time. But once the first draft of my novel was finished and I launched the new business, the gem emerged later, polished and shiny from the year jostling in my pocket.

Kevin’s words gave me the freedom within my business to be who I was: a storyteller. It aligned two sides of myself that had once been diametrically opposed in my mind.

Thank you, Kevin.

Having permission to bring my writing and storytelling abilities into our business made a difference in its success. I enjoy myself with it immensely.

Something tells me I’m not the only one who has lived a double life. How many think “who I truly am,” and “what I do for a living,” are not in harmony? If you’re one of them, know that once we bring into our professions, those things that make us great human beings, only then do we truly soar. And if your employer doesn’t appreciate those things, maybe it’s time for a new employer. Or a new career.

Kevin is not the only person I have to thank for influencing who I am today. There are multitudes of others. Feel free to stop reading now if you wish, because the following is mostly for my benefit, to acknowledge the many wonderful people who’ve made differences in my life, both tremendous and subtle:

Thanks to my mom, Jane, who as a single parent, created a family life far more functional and stable than numerous two-parent homes I’ve heard about from the recollections of friends and acquaintances.

My brother, Walter, whom I admire and envy for his supremely good-natured disposition. He’s always been ready to help me with anything, no questions asked. Congrats to him and Lindsay on their impending arrival in May.

Thanks to my stepfather, Frank, who entered our lives with an equally good-natured disposition on life.

As for my two business partners, Shaun and David—two other brothers from different mothers whom I trust immensely,—I’m fortunate to be part of your team.

Thanks to Erika, Luke, and Kevin L., for their faith in joining us on this adventure, as well as for their friendship.

Thanks also to Jenna, Laurie, Vikram, Cara, Bob, and many others who represent us well every day.

For Randy—my best friend growing up and partner in crime—and Tom—my best friend in college—I appreciate the many memories and how you both enhanced my life in multiple ways. Both these individuals are witty, clever guys who should be writing instead of me.

Thanks to Dena for her support and inspiration, as well as making me see writing and all its potential with a capital “W.”

For Steve C., Ed, Laine, Rudy, Tom H., Emily, and Betsy, your writing support has meant so much to me.

Chip, thanks for including me in your dream and journey and for giving me a safe haven at the Creative Center to write when it was still the best-kept secret in town.

A shout out to my flying buddies: Ged, who has shown me you can do anything you focus your mind on, and Scott, who always makes me laugh. And to their beautiful wives Kate and Tiffany.

And to Clif, another flying buddy. Keep the great stories coming, Clif.

John, thank you for your friendship and excellent writing advice over beer—apologies to your lovely wife, Katie, for when I kept you out so late on several occasions.

Thanks, Skip, for your mentorship on life and business over wine.

Then there is Craig who covers everything else over martinis.

To my dad, Tyson, who was as much a seeker as I am. Thanks for instilling in me the power of belief.

Peter, you were the first to help me better understand the power of being myself.

Steve W., your class was the first to help me realize the power of writing.

Jeff M., your power is the ability to ensure I never take myself too seriously.

Thanks to Rich for being such a great role model, and to Bob, my oyster-eating buddy, I appreciate your generosity in opening your beautiful cabin to me more than you know. I’m convinced your mountain hideaway intersects a universal nexus where great ideas continuously flow, much like the hidden waterfall that gurgles nearby.

To my sons, TJ, John, and Cort, all of you are becoming fine young men in spite of me only now getting an inkling of what it means to be a good parent.

And to all who read and support my writing, Thank You! I hope you get as much from it as I do.