At 55 years of age, I dove off a career cliff.
I left Alaska, where I had worked in journalism, broadcasting, and politics my entire life—and where I had a reputation and knew everyone—and I went to New York, where the reverse was true.
My success here six years later began with a single piece of insight from an exceptional advisor. I’ve passed it on many times since to friends seeking another chapter.
Before leaving Anchorage, I could see I had reached the limit of that small ecosystem. Did I want to spend my next 15 to 20 years doing the same thing? Not really.
But I shouldn’t make myself sound too brave. I also had the beautiful Sarah Rowland waiting for me in New Jersey. Moving in together in your 50s isn’t easy, but we weathered the pandemic and eventually got married.
What I didn’t count on was how hard it would be to re-establish myself as a writer, given my many national awards and well-reviewed books from major publishers. To say the journalistic world was uninterested would be an understatement. I was invisible.
Starting over in your 50s or 60s is brutal in most industries. There are lots of reasons, many of them unfair. But there’s no point worrying about fairness—that’s just how the world is.
I met Ken Banta through classic networking. Every day I would meet with new people and ask them for the names of other new people to meet. Ken had no reason to help me—he was a couple of links down the chain of introductions—but we hit it off. I realized I was in the presence of a remarkable talent.
Ken is the founder and CEO of the Vanguard Network, which works with senior corporate executives to develop their leadership abilities, and helps them connect with others who share their challenges. (He’s just published a new book with some of the insights gained in those encounters.)
He recruited me to help lead sessions at Vanguard’s fascinating seminars. I learned a lot and met famous and powerful people, some of whom I ended up working with on books.
The key piece of advice Ken gave me was this: stop trying to sell your time or your content. Sell your skill, your experience and your wisdom.
He was right. When I presented myself to the world as an independent writer, a writing collaborator and a coach, good things started to happen. It turned out I was worth a lot more than I realized.
The commodity of time is deeply discounted for those over 50, but the economy needs our knowledge and expertise. Companies will eagerly pay extra for advice from a gray-haired consultant who they would never hire as a team member.
And, as a writer, that role fits. It’s always about having the confidence to properly value your ideas. Ken Banta reminded me of that, and that simple mental reorientation was all I needed.
My dive off the cliff ended up taking me much higher.
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