Nobody can sell you better than you.
I bought into that lie for a long time.
Like many artists, I made the proclamation that I was my own best salesman. That only I can do my own head. And that I don’t need anyone’s help hawking my wares, thank you very much.
Which is really just a stubborn way of saying I’m a control freak about my work, I insist on doing everything myself, I don’t want anyone making money off of me and nobody knows my brand as well as I do, so back off.
God I was immature.
Turns out, there is someone who can sell me better than me.
And I don’t know who this person is, but I do know how this person is:
It’s someone whose ego isn’t invested in the sale and doesn’t take rejection personally. An objective party who’s all business, all the time. Someone who isn’t so close to the product that he’s inhaling his own fumes. Someone who cares less about being an artist and more about impressing my accountant. A real closer who doesn’t get claustrophobic worrying about money. A person who doesn’t have a bunch of biases floating around in his head that he pretends aren’t there.
That’s who can sell me better than me.
And maybe it’s a salesperson or an agent or a manager or a business development director, but whatever the title is, if I had to start my company from scratch tomorrow, that’s the exact job description I would write.
Because I should be the one drawing pictures on the cave walls.
Somebody else should go out and hunt.