The first time I had a webinar, I asked my nephew and one of my closest friends to come over to the house to “man the phones” during the Q&A. It was a sunny November afternoon in San Diego, and I was ON fire.
I got a meat-and-cheese platter and some salted nuts. For after. When we’d be tired and excited about the results.
I knew what the results would be, of course, because I’d done all the things:
I’d taken two online courses in webinars—one from Amy Porterfield, one from Russell Brunson. I’d learned how to “Launch” from Jeff Walker and been through B-School. I’d had a sales page built and a professional slide deck. I. DID. ALL. THE. THINGS.
I don’t remember the event, itself. At all.
But I do remember what happened when it came time for people to ask questions, or buy, or call for clarification.
Nothing.
Nothing happened.
Crickets.
It was, quite literally, a non-event.
I know there’s no crying in business, but the next morning, I went ahead and did. My coach said not to take it personally—to course-correct and act. And after I got over myself, I did. I sent personal emails to people who’d shown interest during the run-up, and made connections in comments on social media, and set up calls with people who’d opened the sales emails…and before the cart closed five days later, I’d sold some courses and made some new friends.
It was very hard work. And nothing like the glossy photos of “solopreneurs” making money while they water-skied.
I did that webinar regularly for a year. I did it at least 40 times. Sometimes I slayed, and people responded. Other times I sucked, and people didn’t. One week I’d take myself to lunch because I’d discovered the Holy Grail. The next week I’d lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling, asking why. The only thing that remained consistent was the nasty voice in my head that told me everyone could do this…but me.
And then one day I was at a mastermind group in Boise, in my “hot seat” on the stage. (If you’ve never been in a hot seat, you share something of value with the group, and then share a business issue you’re having to crowd-source advice from the group.) As you might guess, I was crowd-sourcing advice about the wildly irregular results of my consistently regular webinars.
And Russell Brunson said, “You should sell from stage.”
And as I let his suggestion wash over me, it felt totally right.
And so I did.
I got a speaking coach, I got some gigs, I wrote a talk and practiced my ass off, and I delivered it. I had a blast meeting incredible women, they loved the inspiration I provided. And at the end of every talk, I presented my programs. And in every single instance, women responded and asked to work with me. Enthusiastically and consistently.
I cried exactly zero times.
You see, the stage was a platform that worked for me. I needed to SEE the women. To watch their eyes to know if what I was saying was meaningful for them. To feel their energy and hear their laughs and be there with them as they realized things. I needed a crowd.
I could never get that on webinar. No matter how hard I tried.
I learned a valuable lesson that day: your platform strategy should be determined by your strengths. Not by what the “industry” tells you is the next great tactic or sales tool.
My platform is relatively limited. I speak from stage, I send emails, I show up on Facebook, I have a couple blogs, and I do Instagram now and again. I LOVE those tactics, because they’re about sharing my words, my way. They light me up. They play to my strengths, and they work in service of my goals.
I even do webinars now and again. But I’m careful now to build in ways to feel the audience, to get their feedback, and to see them realize things.
So, what’s your platform look like? Are you slaying it? Consistently? And loving it?
Or do you feel pressured to be everywhere at once? Or everywhere the cool kids hang out?
Hit reply, and tell me why.
