Everyone is Taylor Swift

“People often greatly underestimate me on how much I’ll inconvenience myself to prove a point.” – Taylor Swift

Have you heard that Taylor Swift is self-publishing? A coffee table book about her almost two-year-long Eras Tour is coming out next Friday, available exclusively at Target. Why would she self-publish? Certainly, a large publishing company would pay her tens of millions of dollars, which would seem so much easier. Ms. Swift has been burned before and knows the value of owning her intellectual property. 

I know what you’re thinking – “But she has a built-in audience.” Yes, and that’s why any media company would want to piggyback on the millions of fans she has. She didn’t want to do that. Because (and I can’t say this enough) she didn’t want to build her house on rented property.

Do you know the story of how Taylor Swift’s career got started? Scott Swift, her father, would make endless phone calls, and his main topic of conversation was his daughter Taylor. He caught up with her past teachers, business associates, and friends, giving them a detailed update on her success. I know we all wish we had a father like that, but the truth is we all have to do it for ourselves. And that’s okay. We’re grown people. We have words and we can do it ourselves. 

Your worth is not determined by your number of followers. If you're feeling overwhelmed by the idea of reaching out to a large audience, start by focusing on just one person. Imagine that you're talking to a friend and telling them about your book.

Ultimately, your intellectual property gives you a competitive edge and distinguishes you from others. Your IP rights and your work reflect the values and identity of you and your audience, whether that’s through your unique point of view, innovative ideas, or the quality and value of your work.

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Pickle Passion: another installment of Betty is Broke

By Liz Dubelman

Betty spent hours perfecting her pickle recipes, experimenting with different flavors and brine combinations in her apartment’s small kitchen. The familiar aroma of dill, garlic, and vinegar filled the air as she chopped cucumbers and packed them into mason jars.

Pickles were her passion - the crunch, the tang, the satisfaction they brought. Betty poured her heart and soul into each jar, infusing them with a little bitterness that her need for love, companionship, and human touch had gotten her into this situation.

The day of the farmer’s market finally arrived, and Betty set up her pickle palace. Jars of all shapes and sizes filled the table, each one labeled. She had samples for potential customers to try, along with her smile and friendly banter.

But business was slow. People would glance at her pickle paradise with curiosity, but then move on without making a purchase. Betty watched as other vendors thrived and her own creations remained untouched, her heart sinking lower with every passing hour. 

Betty was not a religious woman. But she felt like she was being punished for sleeping with a man half her age. Since she had no customers, she had a long time to stew on this thought. 

In an effort to pull herself out of her self-flagellation funk, she struck up a conversation with the woman in the booth next door selling kale chips.  The woman's name was Mary. She drove down every week from central California to sell her chips that were made from her neighbor’s leftover crops. Betty told Mary the entire story about Tony and how she traded in her savings for a love affair, and all the different ways she tried to make money. She told her about her apartment and how teaching 3 classes a week at USC was just enough to make rent.

Mary's kale chips were a hit with the health-conscious crowd, and customers flocked to her booth, eagerly grabbing bags of the crispy snacks. Betty couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy as she watched Mary effortlessly make sale after sale.

"Here, try some. They're on the house," Mary said with a warm smile.

Betty hesitantly took a chip and bit into it. The crunch was satisfying, the seasoning just right. Inspiration hit her mid-chew. “Mary. I have idea.”

Betty put a tray of samples together and customers started to stop by the adjoining booths. Crowds of customers sampled the unique pairing and were surprised by how well the flavors complemented each other. The tangy pickles paired perfectly with the savory kale chips, creating a burst of deliciousness in every bite. Word quickly spread through the market about Betty's innovative combo deal, and soon there was a line forming at their booth.

Jars of pickles and bags of kale chips flew off the table. By the end of the day, Betty and Mary had sold out all of their pickles and kale chips. She counted their earnings with a wide grin.

As she packed up her booth, a young man approached her. "Excuse me, are you Betty, the pickle lady?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, that's me," Betty replied, a curious look on her face.

"I represent a bar downtown, and we are always on the lookout for unique and delicious products to feature. Your pickles and kale chips combination was a huge hit at the farmer’s market today. We would love to offer them as a bar snack.”

They exchanged contact information. As she watched the young man walk away, she thought, “He’s quite good looking.” Mary noticed the puppy lust look on Betty’s face.

“Girl,” she said. “We need to talk.”

She and Mary sat down for a chat after the market had closed. Mary looked at her with a knowing smile, her eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and understanding.

"Betty, I can see that spark in your eyes. That man definitely caught your attention," Mary said, sipping on a bottle of water.

Betty blushed slightly, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. "He was just so charming, and the opportunity he presented us with... It’s incredible."

Mary chuckled softly. "I think it's more than just the opportunity that has you so intrigued, girlfriend. I saw the way you looked at him. You're still a woman with desires, no matter what life has thrown your way."

Betty shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling exposed yet oddly liberated by Mary's candid words. She had devoted so much of her time and energy to her pickles, burying her own needs and wants beneath layers of brine and vinegar. But now, as she sat across from Mary, she realized how much she yearned for something more. The bar offer was just the beginning - a hint of the possibilities beyond her cramped apartment kitchen and lonely nights.

"Life is too short to spend it all alone with just your pickles and classes, Betty. Embrace the new possibilities that come your way, whether it's in business or... pleasure."

As they finished packing up, the taste of success lingered on her tongue, mingling with the flavors of dill and kale. She knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter.