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Life is good!  Work wood!

A Reader Responds:

Jim Delahunty, a professional woodworker, responds indicating that although many opinions (including my article) seem to focus on the negative aspects of going professional, this can actually provide impetus to empower one to succeed. I thought that his comments, and the story he tells, were important and inspiring, and would make a good companion to my article. I am usually an upbeat person - although I make no apologies for my opinons I express on this site - but we all need to be reminded of the good that can happen when being told you can't do something only serves to drive us harder to do it anyway.

Howard Ruttan



From: Jim Delahunty
Date: Thursday, November 28, 2002
Subject: Some thoughts on going pro

Howard,

I am not writing to be argumentative, however I would like to add one more facet to your essay on why woodworkers might be better off not going professional. As you say, you are someone for whom this decision meant not only losing a hobby, but also gaining an occupation that you presumably didn't anticipate, or love enough to continue. If I had to guess, I'd say that this scenario is probably the most common one.

I do feel that there is wisdom in affirming the nagging concerns of those on the verge of going pro, and that those who don't have fear probably should. I also know that the people who are destined to succeed at something are going to be inspired, rather than discouraged by being told they are up against the odds, so perhaps no harm can come from giving a negative perspective. When I was about to go into business with a partner, his father (who had failed as a general contractor) gave my friend and I a long speech about how much business we would have to do just to pay the overhead - about all the bad customers - about taxes.....you get the idea. On the way home I saw truck after truck with the proud names of contracting firms on their doors. Some were multi-generational, some I had been seeing around town since I was a kid.

My friend wouldn't admit it at the time, but his fear of the possibility his dad might say, "See, I told you you would fail!" kept him from committing to the partnership. I didn't respond with fear. All I could think about was the anger I felt at being told, though implicitly, that I was overestimating my abilities if I thought that I could do what other people around me were obviously doing. To me, the idea was to see myself ten years in the future. What did I want my life to look like and what did I need to do to make it happen? Was it really so impossible to imagine that I could provide a competent service to the community, get paid the same as the guys in the trucks I had seen, and live a middle-class lifestyle? I was willing to be objective. I was willing to see the obstacles in my path, but I wasn't willing to let my friend's father be right.

Skip ahead ten years, and I'm sitting in a house in the country worth twice as much as my friend's father's. Looking out the window, There is a small woodshop full of machines that were long-ago paid for. As I think of the last ten years of work, I remember cabinets, furniture and the restoration of victorian homes - beautiful work that has been a privilege to do - work that I got by paying dues and honing my skills.

Your essay made me look back at the last ten years of my life and consider the opposite outcome. It reminded me of my own inhibitions and doubts. I imagined a scenario where I had a dream of being a woodworker that turned out to be less enjoyable or profitable than I had hoped. Would my life, and my opinion of my self, be better having made a go of it and decided to stop, the way my friend's father had, or would I have been better off avoiding the entire process? That's not really an easy question. Trying and failing for him meant bitterness that he was passing down to his own son and his son's friends. Obviously there was something more. There was the idea that going after something with a combination of drive, humility, and a willingness to honestly assess, should be it's own reward.

To me, building things is something I would do without being paid. I am willing to incorporate a certain amount of the unpleasantness that doing business entails because anything I do for a living 40 hours a week is not going to be fun for all 40 hours. Taking the longest possible view, I try to see myself at the end of my career (or careers). I can't believe I'm going to look back at the thousands and thousands of hours of woodworking and wish I had done something else. I'm not sure why I wrote this to you. I've read it back a couple of times, and I still can't summarize a point, but I felt the need to share this with you. As I said, I think what you are saying is true and valid, I don't really even disagree, but I wanted to add this.

Thanks for reading - Jim

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