You Don’t Have to Be Easy to Reach to Be Worth Finding

I’m writing this from Seldovia, Alaska.

Getting here takes a little effort.

There’s no highway connecting Seldovia to the rest of Alaska’s road system. You arrive by boat or plane. Depending on the weather and the day, getting here requires planning.

And yet, people come.

That caught my attention.

We live in a world obsessed with making everything easier, faster and more convenient. One-click purchases. Same-day delivery. Instant answers. Businesses spend millions trying to remove every possible second of friction.

There’s obviously value in convenience.

But Seldovia reminded me of the other side of that equation:

Some things are worth the journey.

And I think that's an important lesson for business, and life.

We Spend a Lot of Time Trying to Be Easier to Choose

In business, we're constantly told to remove friction.

Make the price lower.

Make the commitment smaller.

Respond faster.

Offer more.

Make it easier for the customer to say yes.

I've spent more than a decade in marketing, and I've given versions of that advice myself.

But there comes a point where continually making yourself easier to choose can turn into making yourself easier to replace.

That's the part we don't talk about enough.

There are restaurants people will drive two hours to visit.

Hotels people will cross an ocean to experience.

Companies with waiting lists.

Professionals whose calendars stay full.

People will tolerate inconvenience when they believe what waits on the other side is worth it.

So maybe the goal isn't always to become easier to reach.

Maybe the goal is to become worth reaching.

Seldovia Didn't Chase Me

That's what I liked about this place.

Seldovia didn't need to convince me every five minutes that it was special.

It didn't need a giant billboard.

It didn't need to manufacture urgency.

It simply was what it was.

Quiet.

Remote.

Beautiful.

Different.

And because it wasn't trying so hard to be everything, it had an identity.

Businesses lose that sometimes.

So do people.

We become so concerned about being accepted that we slowly start sanding down everything distinctive about ourselves.

We look at competitors and copy what they're doing.

We change our pricing because someone else is cheaper.

We change our message because somebody else is louder.

We say yes to things we don't want because we're afraid the opportunity won't come back.

Eventually, you can become so adaptable that nobody knows what you actually stand for.

Being available to everyone is not the same as being valuable to someone.

That lesson extends far beyond marketing.

Not Every Season Is Supposed to Look Busy

There is another thing you notice in Alaska.

Everything has seasons.

There are times of enormous activity and times when things become incredibly quiet.

Nature doesn't seem embarrassed by either one.

Business owners are different.

We panic when things get quiet.

If the phone isn't ringing enough, something must be wrong.

If everyone else seems to be announcing wins and we're rebuilding internally, we feel behind.

If somebody our age appears further along, we start questioning our own progress.

I've done it.

Most ambitious people have.

But I've learned that some of the most important periods of my life didn't look impressive while I was living through them.

There were seasons of building.

Seasons of learning.

Seasons where things didn't work.

Seasons where relationships changed.

Seasons where I had to rethink what I was doing entirely.

You don't usually post those moments.

But sometimes those are the moments actually preparing you for what's next.

Distance Changes Your Perspective

That's one of the reasons I love traveling.

Physical distance has a strange way of creating mental distance.

Problems that seemed enormous back home suddenly look different when you're standing thousands of miles away.

You start asking better questions.

Do I actually need to be worried about this?

Does this opportunity really matter?

Am I building something I want, or something I feel obligated to keep building?

Who deserves more of my time?

What am I carrying that I should have put down a long time ago?

And maybe the biggest one:

If I keep going exactly the way I'm going, do I actually like where I'll end up?

That's a question worth asking occasionally.

Not because something has to be wrong.

Because direction matters.

You can work incredibly hard and still be headed somewhere you don't want to go.

You Don't Need Everyone to Understand the Journey

Seldovia isn't for everybody.

That's part of what makes it Seldovia.

And your path won't make sense to everybody either.

Some people will think you're moving too slowly.

Others will think you're taking too much risk.

Some will understand your decisions only after they work.

Others may never understand them at all.

That's okay.

One of the freedoms that comes with experience is realizing you don't need unanimous approval to build a meaningful life.

You need conviction.

You need people around you who will tell you the truth.

You need the humility to change direction when you're wrong.

And then you need enough courage to keep moving when you know you're right.

Those things are much more valuable than applause.

Build Something Worth the Trip

That's what I'm taking home from Seldovia.

Don't spend your entire life trying to make the journey easier.

Make the destination better.

Become better at your craft.

Keep your word.

Take care of people.

Build a reputation slowly enough that it's real.

Create work you're proud to attach your name to.

Say no when saying yes would move you away from the person or company you're trying to become.

And when things get quiet, don't immediately assume you've stopped progressing.

Sometimes you're simply between destinations.

I'm still ambitious. I still believe in growing, winning, building big things and taking opportunities when they come.

But the older I get, the more I realize that success isn't only about how far you can go.

It's also about becoming someone, and building something - worth going the distance for.

Seldovia takes a little more effort to reach.

Maybe that's exactly why being here means something.

Writing from Seldovia, Alaska.

— Corey Flores
Founder, Flores Marketing Firm