July 2016.

The sun, almost directly overhead, was beating down hard. I could feel the sweat gathering on my forehead, and I hadn’t even hit the stage yet. My black button-down and dark jeans weren’t helping.

My bandmates and I stood backstage — if you could call it that — it was a white tent tucked stage right. Security and staff buzzed around, focused on their tasks. At least we had cold water.

After about 30 minutes, the signal came. The five of us climbed the stairs and stepped onto the main stage. As we took our positions, I scanned the scene. Thankfully, the sun was no longer an issue. A large canopy stretched over the stage, and a slight breeze found its way in.

Overhead, rows of lights glared down. Massive speakers hung from large trusses on either side of the stage.

I turned to check on the band. Our drummer was perched on a riser, the others fiddling with their guitars. I caught my wife’s eye. She smiled. I smiled back. We were ready.

The Sound Was Ours

A voice called out: “You guys good to go?”

Two monitor engineers sat in the back of a semi-trailer hooked to the stage, surrounded by consoles, amplifiers, and processors. I nodded. Then I stepped to my keyboard.

The opening chords of our first song rang out. I leaned into the mic.

The sound was immediate. The synth pad rose, warm as the afternoon sun, and the electric guitar began to ring out as we made our way to the chorus. I could feel the bass in my chest, punctuated by the slam of the kick drum. It felt like a punch to the gut. A pleasant one. The sound was ours, and it filled a city block.

Summer music festivals. Thousands of people, big lights, big sound. We had played a similar venue only a week before.

But somehow, this was the moment I fully understood the power of collaboration.

I’d been writing songs for years. Recording them quietly in my basement, never really sharing them. I told myself I was “just a songwriter,” not a real musician. The truth was, I was afraid of letting others in. Fearful they’d mess with my ideas.

But eventually, I realized that if I wanted the songs to reach people, I couldn’t do it alone.

So I formed a band with my closest friends.

We recorded the songs in my basement studio, then hired a Grammy-nominated mixing engineer. We also got help with album art, live sound, production — the works.

Within two years, our band, Onelife, released an album, played shows, received radio airplay, and garnered thousands of streams on Spotify and Apple Music. One of our songs even made it to the semi-finals of the world’s largest songwriting competition.

All because I stopped trying to do it all myself.

That same lesson — don’t go it alone — became the foundation for how I built my business. I started asking for help, leaning on mentors, and surrounding myself with people who had skills I didn’t, and that’s what ultimately gave me the clarity and confidence to leave the 9-5 for good.

Here’s what I learned:

You don’t need to be an expert at everything to do something big. You don’t need to do it all on your own.

And there are people who want to help you, but you’ve got to ask.

Whether you're starting a side hustle or dreaming of quitting the 9-5, don’t underestimate the power of collaboration.

Your idea doesn’t have to be perfect. You just need to get started. Then bring in the right people to help you build.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is let go.

___

✋ Want help building your roadmap out of the 9-5?

I offer 1:1 coaching to help you:
✅ Get clear on your 5-year vision
✅ Figure out the income you're going to need to walk away
✅ Identify a realistic side hustle you can scale
✅ Build momentum with weekly check-ins and monthly calls

Reply to this email with the word “Roadmap” and I’ll send you the details.

Let’s build it together.

Colin

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