I’m Seth. And this is not a standard “about” page. Even though I’ve been building websites and developing online strategies for over half my life, emphasizing uniqueness and creativity in every project I’ve worked on, when it came to my first draft of this page, it was wholeheartedly average. And boring.

So I’m going to do something different.

I’m starting with a blank page. I’m going to tell my story, my real story. Because when you build your website, I want you to do the same thing. Let’s all tell the story that matters. Let’s all build something that matters.

My story has some successes. It also has some failures. But that’s the whole story, the real story, the story that makes me who I am and puts me here in front of you today.

Our stories are not perfect, and our websites are not perfect. Since they are a reflection of us, they are human. And since they connect us to a greater world, they absolutely should be. Web technology allows us to do amazing things, but we so rarely take full advantage of that opportunity by doing the simple things that truly matter, like sharing a bit of ourselves.

Here’s how my about page used to read:

For over 15 years, Seth has been building online presence for small businesses, start-ups, non-profits, corporations, and individuals. His accomplishments include creating a social network website from scratch (sold in 2006) and building a social media strategy that grew an organization’s Facebook fans from a few hundred to over 30,000 and Twitter followers from zero to over 12,000. Seth previously managed the design, architecture, and growth strategy for a website that attracted over 200,000 visitors a month. He has been featured in the book Setting Up An Internet Site For Dummies. Seth lives in Berkeley, CA with his wife, cat, and dog.

The only thing on that page that anyone ever commented on was the picture of my dog, which people loved. So I kept it. And that’s exactly why this page needs to be different. You’re here for something different.

Let’s mix it up.

Here are some of my less impressive characteristics:

• I’m a serial failed hobbyist. I try new hobbies regularly, and almost always end up getting bored and moving on. I’ve hobbied in music, film, writing, poetry, woodworking, electronics, robot-building, rock climbing, rollerblading, and more. The only hobby I have kept up with my entire life is working with computers.
• I don’t have any techie friends. Despite spending over a decade and a half in the field of web development, I can’t pretend to have interest in discussing the details of web programming functionality or when the next version of HTML is coming out. I’m a terrible nerd networker.
• I have a very difficult time working at a 9 to 5 job. I’ve tried it a number of times, working with some amazing people doing great work, but it’s not for me. I like to make my own schedule, and let inspiration be my guide. That just doesn’t seem to work in an office setting.
• I have a hard time letting go of ideas. This might seem like one of those “my biggest weakness is really a strength” things, but I’m sure my wife would disagree with that. Especially when I asked her thoughts on a new concept for my website while we were kayaking on our anniversary.
• Despite working with some very friendly and talented people, my dog is the best co-worker I’ve ever had. He lets me work in a t-shirt, doesn’t talk much, forces me to take breaks, and gets me to exercise at least three times a day.

Even with these particulars, I’m lucky to have a wonderful family, fantastic friends, and a business that allows me to spend my days taking on new projects and doing work that I love. For my personal life, I give credit to those around me. For my professional success, I give credit to the continual act of learning.

How I learned to learn (and do it right)

My dad is a funny guy. He agrees to take on projects that he has no idea how to complete. He once fixed our car after an accident, despite never having done any autobody work before. He built my brother and I a bedroom in our uneven basement without ever having laid floors. He built a telescope on our roof. When my wife and I bought our house, he agreed to put a hole in the kitchen wall so it would open to the dining room, without knowing what was in the wall or what it was supporting.

(Here’s a picture of my dad and I staring at the hole we just made.
We did figure it out and it’s now our favorite feature in the house.)

My dad saved us a lot of money growing up. I can’t remember any contractors ever coming by to work on anything. But I’m pretty sure that’s not the only reason he did it. He loves to make things work. He loves to take an idea and make it reality. He loves to smile at a job well done.

What amazes me about my dad is that he doesn’t necessarily set out to learn. Instead, he sets out with something he wants to accomplish. Then he figures out how to make it happen. He doesn’t get intimidated by something he doesn’t know how to do. He can only see those things he wants to make happen, then he gets to work actually making them happen. He enjoys the process as much–if not more–than the result.

The most valuable lesson my dad ever taught me came when my mom asked me to clean something up in the kitchen. I did so, rather hastily, and moved on. My dad saw me and asked:

“Did you do a good job?”

I responded: “Good enough for Mom.” To which he replied:

“Don’t do it for your mother. Do it for you. Take pride in what you do, even if it’s just cleaning the kitchen sink.”

My dad taught me a lot of things, but that one sticks with me until this day. He believed in learning what you need to do, then doing it extremely well. He taught me that I shouldn’t let laziness or inexperience stop me from doing something that matters.

And it all matters.

I don’t think I realized as a kid watching my father what path I would choose for myself. And I still don’t think I realized it when I was 19, after moving out-of-state and starting my own company. But I had begun a process of learning how to succeed on my own terms that still pushes me in everything I do.

My first efforts online were probably like most beginners. Maybe worse. I didn’t understand the concept or techniques of a multi-page website, so I just put everything I had on one really, really long page. There seemed to be so many things I didn’t know. But I learned a bit, tried a lot, and eventually built a decent website.

Each skill I learned pushed me to learn something more, to get better. With a little time, I learned to create web applications that I then shared with others, complete with guides on how to make it work on their websites.

Looking back, that was a fantastic start. And I really wish I could say that there was a straight line from that beginning to where I am today: mastering new web technologies and guiding others to implement it for themselves.

But it was not a straight line.

The dot-com boom started and I got a job at a fast-growing company. That didn’t last long (my decision, luckily), but after that I spent years bouncing back and forth between working 9 to 5 jobs and building my own projects. I was a developer, a consultant, and a manager. I was my own boss, a boss to others, and I had multiple bosses at once.

I learned how to build websites and online presence under every possible situation, for different clients and different purposes. But in the end I found that there was one element to everything I did that really mattered to me: simply learning how to make things work, and work well.

That’s what I focus on, now.

I keep digging to find better and better ways to build websites that work. And I keep improving the process by which I guide others to do the same, simply and on their terms.

I’m not just building websites, I’m building a collection of stories. Stories of people who have learned to create something that matters online.

That is the lesson my dad taught me: to know what I want to manifest, then take the steps to make it happen. All while enjoying the process and putting myself into everything I do.

That’s my story. It is fundamentally our story. We all want to grow. We all want to contribute. We all want to do something that matters.

So, please, do something that matters. Tell your story in everything you do. Learn to share the unique piece of this world that is you.

Here’s what I would like you to do right now.

Add a comment below. Tell me a bit of your story. Tell me what you’ve learned in your life that shapes you. Tell me what you want to learn next.

I’m glad to have shared my story with you. I look forward to hearing yours.

Until next time,
Seth

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