I have removed some difficult nails during the last 20 years, including a lot of manufactured cut nails and blacksmith-made wrought nails. Both of these styles of nails always hold much better than modern wire nails, which hold about as well as hot-melt glue or nails made of spaghetti.
But today I had to pull out one of the French die-forged nails from Rivierre Nail Factory. If I had to write a song about it, I’d call it “I Fought the Nail and the Nail Won” by Nine Inch Nails.
Here’s how it began. I was attaching 1/2”-thick poplar backboards to a white oak carcase using the 40mm nails. First I drilled a 1/8”-diameter pilot hole for the nail that was about half the length of the nail. Then I hammered the nail home.
As soon as I finished, I saw my error. The backboard had shifted about 3/16” from where it was supposed to be.
First I grabbed my 3 lb. lump hammer and a beater block and tried to knock the backboard free. After all, it was just one nail holding the backboard in place.
The nail didn’t budge.
I tried to slip a thin cabinetmakers’ pry bar between the backboard and the case to lift the back board.
No dice.
I tried to knock a small crowbar between the back and case with a hammer and some gentle taps so I didn’t destroy the backboards.
No joy.
Then I reluctantly took my Japanese cat’s paw and dug under the nail’s head to pull the nail out by its head. This is always my last resort.
But I couldn’t pull the head up. Even with the 90° leverage of the cat’s paw.
After five minutes of digging around under the head I finally abused the poplar enough that I could lift the backboard enough to get a serious crowbar between the case and backboard.
And with a mighty groan, the nail gave up. But not without cracking the backboard and cracking the shiplap on the adjoining backboard.
I considered replacing this backboard with a new one to hide the evidence of the scuffle. But I decided that showed a lack of respect to the nail. So I fastened the backboard in place, leaving the splits (which are cosmetically minor).
If you haven’t tried these nails, do. They are awesome and inexpensive, even with the international shipping. I’m afraid I do not know of any North American supplier of these nails. If you do, speak up!
Three things I avoid: debt, overhead and employees.
That’s the mantra Lucy, John and I follow. And I probably should just end this blog entry right there. The practical side of running a small business like Lost Art Press plus my personal household is complex enough to write a book about – thank goodness I have John as the other half of the business and Lucy here at home. Partnerships are tricky. I am extremely fortunate to have people who view money and work through the same lens.
So with that said, let’s start with debt.
When my wife, Lucy, and I were 23 we made a solemn vow while sitting on the washing machines in our apartment complex: We would avoid debt at every turn.
Within a couple months we paid off a few thousand dollars of debt we had on our credit cards and since then have – with the exception of buying a house – never carried debt on credit cards or consumer loans or anything.
I know there are people who will convince you that debt is good, but I’m too stupid to buy that argument. And so we buy only what we can afford and we save whatever we can. We live in an inexpensive city outside Cincinnati, Ohio, which allows two low-paid writers to raise a family and live fairly well. I cannot image making this life work in New York or Chicago.
Once you get rid of debt, the rest of the bills are easy to manage, even with a inconsistent salary like mine. The following are some of the things we do to make the numbers balance every month. But before I delve into this, it’s important to say that money does not occupy the center of our lives. We think of it as water from the faucet: It is there when you need it, but for Pete’s sake don’t waste it.
Utilities and Other ‘Fixed’ Costs Costs are like fingernails. They have to be constantly tended to or you’ll end up looking like that creepy guy in the Guinness Book of World Records. So every spring Lucy and I review our household costs.
The review isn’t about figuring out which TV channels we can live without on cable. It’s about checking in on the utilities themselves. Years ago we discovered our phone bill was creeping up every year even though we weren’t using the phone much. After 10 minutes of digging we discovered that the phone company had long ago discontinued the “package” of services we were using and offered packages with more services at half the cost.
We felt like suckers.
Now we check the websites of our cable company, phone company, internet provider and insurers each spring to make sure we’re getting the best published price. We’re not trying to whine and get an artificially lower rate; we just want the best rate they offer to anyone.
Hint: Try this with a magazine subscription. When they call you to renew at $36.95 per year, simply ask for the best price they can offer. Most magazines will immediately give you the introductory price with no arm twisting. This can save you 50 percent.
With our insurance carriers, we ask for a “rate review” every year. It’s a quick 10-minute phone call that usually results in them saying: Hmmm. You pay your bills on time so we’d like to offer you a discount to stay with us. Another good tactic with insurers: Ask them what you could do to save money on your rates. You might be surprised. We saved more than $1,000 a year by agreeing to have a dumb monitoring device installed on our cars for 90 days. Yeah, it’s creepy Big Brother stuff, but I’ll play along if that means I have an extra $1,000 for lumber and good food.
With Lost Art Press, John does similar reviews of our expenses and does them quite regularly. This has saved us thousands on on our phones, credit card processing fees and the like.
On Overhead Have none or almost none. Use your house as long as you can for your business. At one point we had boxes of books packed under every bed in the house. All of us – both my family and John’s – packed parcels for customers until we could afford a warehouse service.
Even when things seem stable, try to trim overhead. Lucy and I recently bought a building in Covington, Ky., which might seem like we’re doing a dumb thing and increasing overhead. But we’re actually reducing it – we’re going to sell our current home and move into the Covington building, which is worth about half of our current house and is smaller with less maintenance. This is a multi-year plan, but it will pay.
Don’t buy equipment thinking it will help you get work. Buy equipment because you absolutely have to purchase it in order to complete some work you have on hand. But when you buy, buy the best you can afford.
Don’t go into debt for equipment. If you don’t have the money to buy it, then you can’t afford it. You might have to turn down work as a result, but growing slow is better than having to be a slave to a machine and its monthly debt service.
When you do buy equipment, keep your accountant in the loop (see below) so you can amortize it. When you get rid of equipment, let your accountant know, especially if you live in a state that taxes personal property (I do).
Considering Incorporating Get an accountant who specializes in small businesses. Ask to talk to him or her about your situation and assist with tax planning – if you make this phone call right before you quit your corporate job it will help you sleep at night.
Our society isn’t set up to encourage small businesses. So you need to deduct everything allowable and legal. You can make your vacations deductible if you are smart. Learn to track all your expenses and mileage to reduce your tax burden. I know this sounds tedious and antithetical to living free of “the man,” but we are never free of “the man.” Once you set up a few spreadsheets and manila folders for receipts, you’ll do it automatically, like brushing your teeth. It makes a difference.
You might ask your accountant about incorporating as a limited liability corporation (LLC), which has some tax advantages once you start to make money.
Making Money & Marketing Unlike every other generation before, we have a huge advantage when it comes to marketing a tiny business: the Internet. Every person on the planet has access to free tools that allow them to communicate anywhere in the world that has an Internet connection.
If you aren’t using free social media tools – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and old-school blogs – then you are making life more difficult.
Using these services is like learning good hygiene. The first time you floss your teeth, it sucks. Eventually, you feel weird if you don’t do it.
Document your work with the camera on your phone and put one thing out there every day on some channel – even if it’s just a photo with a caption. (Warning: Putting 20 things up in a day could hurt you. Instead, think about the best thing you did that day – it could be an image, an idea or a dumb/clever joke. Post that on the channel it is best suited for. Then get on with the rest of your day.)
As you get started in social media, the best way to grow your presence is to interact with others. Add meaningful comments on their channels. Contribute. Be thoughtful and honest. You will generate a gravitational field and people will find you.
How does this make you money? It doesn’t. But if you are a talented, consistent and reasonable voice in your community – whatever community that is – eventually people will want to hire you. This is where it gets sticky. People will ask you to work for free or almost nothing. It’s tempting to do this a few times for “exposure.”
Here’s a typical example: Last year a guy in our town asked me to build a custom garden bench to put in front of his yard for runners and walkers to rest. He said I could put my company’s name on it and I would benefit from the exposure. Other people would see my work and want me to build furniture for them. Bullcrap.
Don’t work for free. If someone asks you to work for free, ask them to do something of equal value for you. That’s as close as I get to working for free.
Getting paid is the hardest part of living apart from a corporation. A regular paycheck is a seductive thing. But after a few years away from corporate life, you will have this epiphany: The regular paycheck is like a drug that can be snatched away at any moment. You can be fired and have the rug pulled out from under you, leaving you to scramble and make bad decisions.
If you are a freelancer, you never depend on one source of income. When one source dries up, another one can take its place. Eventually you’ll understand that this makes you far more resilient than someone with a regular paycheck that can disappear with a pink slip.
Do Your Own Work Lost Art Press now makes enough money to have an employee or two. And some days it is tempting. I’d love to offload some administrative work on hired help. But we won’t do it. When you hire people, you have to manage them instead of doing what you are good at.
And, I hate to say this, but most people who are looking for a job are not the right sort of person to work with an independent entrepreneur. What you really need to do is to clone yourself. You can’t do that (yet), so don’t assume you can find someone who cares as much about your work as you do. As a former manager, I can say this is a rare quality.
John and I know we could expand the business if we hired people. But then we’d just be managing people all day. And that’s not what I love, like or even tolerate.
When we need help at Lost Art Press, we hire contract work and use other independent artisans.
There are about 10,000 things I could add to this entry, but the above points are the most important ones to me. And there are areas in which I have gotten lucky. Lucy has health insurance through her business, so that’s not been something we’ve had to wrestle with, such as utilities or overhead.
If this all sounds daunting, it’s not. If you have the passion and work ethic then the administrative part of life will fall in line.
During the last five years, a lot of students, readers and friends have asked for advice on how to leave the corporate world – and avoid starvation in the process. When I get asked this question, I take a deep breath. I hate to give advice because what worked for me might not work for you.
But after five years of this, I have learned a few little things that might help you if you ever dare to step to the edge and look down. I’m going to start with the philosophical stuff first and move into the practical stuff in a future post.
Focus on One Thing, But Not Really I have a variety of semi-useful semi-developed skills – writing, editing, graphic design, teaching, photography, website building – that I’ve honed during my 47 years. And when I left my job in 2011 I decided to do all of those things to make money, but to make woodworking part of all of them.
So I write and edit freelance stories, but only about woodworking. All my website efforts are on woodworking sites only – no dog groomers or moss enthusiast sites. By tying all my skills up with a long wooden shaving, the work I do in one area (writing a woodworking book) helps feed the other areas (writing woodworking articles and teaching woodworking classes).
I’ve had lots of offers to work outside of woodworking – editing fiction novels, writing for encyclopedias, editing home-improvement websites – but I’ve always said “no” to those offers. Not because I am rich (I can always use the work) but because it’s not a good idea long-term.
Stools Need Three Legs The corollary to the item above is that life is easier if you have more than one leg to stand on. If I only built custom furniture, I’d struggle a lot more. If I only wrote articles or just taught classes, ditto and ditto.
When I stopped teaching last year I had built up enough work that I’m surviving on writing, editing and building furniture. I do miss the income from teaching – don’t get me wrong – but because I had a lot of options, I didn’t need to take a job at Rockler to make ends meet.
Always Work; Never Work This isn’t the first time I left a corporate job. In 1993 I left a cozy editing job to start my own political newspaper with a partner. I threw in the towel on that newspaper after a few years because my heart wasn’t in it, though my body was. I worked seven days a week. I slept under my desk at the newspaper. And I was miserable because politics was not (and still is not) my thing.
Today I work seven days a week. While my eyes are open, I am pretty much working on something. But I love what I do so much that my only regret is that I have to sleep at night.
It’s still work. Staring at the screen gives me a headache. Humping hundreds of pounds of wood my myself makes me sore at night. Dealing with manufacturing books and posters gives me a stomach ache.
But – and this is important – I’d do this even if it weren’t my job.
Lots of hobbyist woodworkers who have turned pro have told me that going pro ruined their woodworking hobby. My answer to this common statement is that woodworking isn’t a hobby. It should be an all-consuming obsession that frames your identity and existence (and has for many years). I started woodworking in earnest in 1993 and haven’t quit. I love it even more than when I started.
Try Not to Be a Hypocrite During the last 20 years, I’ve talked business with a lot of professional woodworkers all over the world. A common gripe goes like this: People just don’t buy bespoke, quality furniture anymore.
And they are saying this while dressed entirely in imported clothes made in questionable manufacturing conditions, with a shop full of Harbor Freight Tools and a house filled with plastic disposable junk.
While none of us is perfect and pure, I try to use local small businesses for everything I can – such as printing, design, T-shirts and scanning. It costs a bit more, but it has opened up opportunities that have greatly expanded my business and what I’m capable of.
I wear clothes and shoes that are made domestically and designed to last. They don’t cost that much more, but you won’t find them at a Wal-Mart. And I buy my food from the local butcher and green-grocer – it’s actually cheaper and better.
And I like good tools.
If you aren’t willing to embrace a world of custom, well-made objects, then maybe you shouldn’t peddle them.
If the above is obvious and not-at-all helpful, I apologize. The second installment will deal with nitty-gritty stuff: utilities, insurance, marketing, taxes and getting paid.
The discovery of a pattern seems to me to be an inherent feature of the human experience of making. Whether he or she thinks about it or not, or is even aware of it, a person who makes something implicitly assumes existence of an order or standard of rightness that transcends all recipes and rules of composition: a standard, a pattern, or – to use the Greek word – a paradeigma which both measures the work and is measured by it.
This pattern can be thought of as a single, immutable template to be traced or copied, which appears to be how Plato understood it, or it can be thought of as a mutable rhythm governing a pattern of movement, like the figure of a dance: a rhythm or order (kosmos) that is rediscovered with each new tracing of the figure.
Artists – and by “artists” I mean all people who make things: not just novelists, poets, composers, and painters, but also cooks, gardeners, and seamstresses, insofar as they are not assembly line workers – are an infinitesimal and powerless minority in the Western world, but this was not always the case. The civilization of archaic Greece, which is to say Western civilization at its very roots, has been called a civilization of the artisan….
It is my contention that, with the dawn of Greek thought, the pattern discovered, or allowed to appear, through making was universalized to become the pattern that eventually came to be understood as the one embodied in the cosmos as we understand the word.
— Indra Kagis McEwen “Socrates’ Ancestor” (The MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass.)
When a design idea gets stuck in my head, I need to build it so it doesn’t interfere with other (sometimes better) ideas knocking around in my skull.
This is one such crazy idea.
It came to me one morning this week as I was thinking about the Crisscross mechanism on my leg vise. I love how the Crisscross applies forces in predictable but still surprising ways. In fact, I still get letters about this mechanism, which I featured in my 2007 book on workbenches, from people who claim it’s a hoax and doesn’t work.
This table looks unstable to my eye. Like it would tip over if you merely pressed on a corner of the tabletop. But if you think about it (and then try it) it’s remarkably stable. There’s a foot below every corner, which is what you need to prevent it from tipping over.
Aesthetically, I have work to do. This isn’t bad for a rough draft, but the whole thing is chunkier than it needs to be.
What I like about it is how it changes constantly as you move around it. The legs can look like Xs. The top can look like it’s cantilevered over nothing. Two of the legs can look dead vertical.
Oh, and it’s simple to make. This one took less than a day and was made from maple scraps leftover from the worktable in “The Anarchist’s Design Book.”
Because the forces exerted by the tenons mortised into the top, I don’t think I’d use this as the undercarriage of a chair. The seat might split. But for an occasional table? I think it has potential.
FYI, The top is 3” x 14-1/2” x 14-1/2”. The legs are 1-5/8” x 1-5/8” x 22”. The legs are at a 60° angle to the underside of the top and taper to an inch square at the floor.
When I dry-assembled the table I sent a snapshot to a friend.
“Look what I made this morning.”
His response: “By accident?”
Designing furniture is not a profession for the thin-skinned.
