I'm a Boston girl—always have been, and probably always will be—which means two things: 1) Frugality is in my blood, and 2) I'm a Red Sox fan. And, as our hometown ball club and the Kerry-Heinz ketchup empire have taught me over the years, "Good Things Come to Those Who Wait."
With Shoestring, that's become a mantra—especially in the past two weeks, as Meghan and I faced the daunting reality of finding a new programmer for the web site at the 11th hour, pushed back our launch date (for the third time), and went back to square one with a business plan that started to seem impossible.
In other words, it was time to start over yet again. Surprisingly, though, it isn't bumming us out. It's actually been pretty rejuvenating, and is proving to me just what tough broads both this magazine and the women behind it have turned out to be.
If there's one other thing that Shoestring has been consistently over the past 10 years, at least, it's been patient, and I've started to realize that I'm no more in control of the right time for this launch than I am over what kinds of deals I'll find at Filene's Basement on any given Saturday. Sometimes, you just have to let things reveal themselves to you in their own time, and stay committed to the adventure for it's own sake.
Since 1999, Shoestring has lived many lives (some only in my head or on paper, some actually tangible): print magazine, daily newsletter, blog, and now one-stop online resource for finding The Good Life for Less. Like Carrie Bradshaw, I've also had multiple (business) partners since then, each as different from each other as Big from Berger from Aidan, but each one adding passion and perspective, maturing Shoestring—and me—in priceless ways. I love each one of them dearly, and I couldn't possibly be here writing this if it weren't for all of them. But, in business as in romance, we can never look back, only ahead, and take time to ponder what we've learned about ourselves and others when it doesn't work out. Kim and Petey, Jen and the Emerson gang, though you're not with Shoestring now, you have been before and you will be again soon. As the cliché goes, timing is everything. For me and Meghan, the time is now. Almost.
I should be no stranger to the upsets and setbacks that life and the start-up world can throw at you—making you change your course on a dime or go back to the drawing board completely—now having worked for two start-up publishers and four start-up web sites. (Hello, my name is Melissa, and I'm a start-up junkie.) But, for some reason, this time it's different. Maybe it's because this time, it's personal. It's my dream, my baby, my passion project. Whatever you want to call it, it's become an extension of me over the last decade, and it's been the thing that's sustained me when times were rough in my writing and editing career. Even though I feel like I can make it move like my own arm or pinkie finger, just by willing it so or trying with all my might, sometimes it controls me. I think all entrepreneurs will probably tell you that takes some getting used to.
In 2000, Kim and I pitched Shoestring as a print magazine—after dreaming up the idea late one night in the office of our student newspaper at UNH—to one of my editors' husbands, someone who worked as a consultant (and a very successful one at that) connecting publishers, advertisers, and venture capitalists.
"Bingo!" we thought. "We really can make this happen. Sweet!"
Not quite.
"It's a great idea," Steve told me. "But it will never work. Advertisers won't pay for space in a magazine aimed at people without money to spend." Hadn't he ever met old, stodgy wealthy people? They didn't get that way by spending it—just look at the Brahmins! Sigh.
It was the first of many crushing, but not fatal, blows. I took his feedback to heart, went back to the basics, and tried to strengthen the pitch, the business plan, and find more research on our demographic. Before I could pitch it again, though, a little magazine called Budget Living
hit the newsstands and went out like gangbusters. Niche filled, opportunity missed. (Until now, that is. Ahem.)
While I wanted to be resentful of their team, I found it insanely hard to pout. Instead, I pored over every issue, the writers and editors became like old friends, and I saved everything, reading each article over and over even today. They did a fantastic job. Sarah Gray Miller was the woman I longed to be doing the job I longed to have and writing about the things I'd longed to write about. (Not only did she found Budget Living, but also my other most-favorite-and-now-defunct book, Organic Style.) I read every bit of industry and consumer news related to what they were doing. I was addicted, and I cried when it folded, even though, given my aspirations for Shoestring, I should have been celebrating.
But, among other things, both were tough love lessons that needed to be learned—and both Steve's advice and Budget Living's rise and fall set me on the path I needed to find for Shoestring so that we could get to where we are today. Never take just one person's advice as "the word," no matter how experienced they are. Ask for opinions, from dozens of people, and never forget your audience. Always go with your gut before the "trends." You'll never really know until you give it a try.
So try we are, and soon—dear friends, family, loyal readers and random strangers—Shoestring will be a living, breathing, code complete reality. For now, however, we're still sifting through the dust that's settled around our most recent explosion, searching for the gems of wisdom to get us out of the rubble with grace and glory.
Stay tuned for more tales from our adventures, as we wear out the Shoe Leather and bare our soles chasing this dream of bringing you The Good Life for Less.
~ Melissa
Founder and Stealfinder in Chief
Shoestring and Bargainista.com
