To the woman who supports my first event ever…
You must have a serious appetite for adventure if you’re willing to fly to Austin to f*ck around and find out with me if a business carnival is the future of conferences.
Even though the concept is experimental, the vision is crystal clear. So clear that you’re about to read a letter that I’m writing for the woman who I built The Proximity Marketplace for. Maybe it’s you. If it’s not, you’ll know pretty quickly and you can pass this on to someone who might fall in love with the future through this 500(ish) word letter.
It’s the inside thoughts thoughts we’re scared to say. I’m tired of sitting and listening to speakers. I didn’t learn that much from hearing her talk about Instagram for 45 minutes. I’m overwhelmed by how many new strategies I need to try. I’m tired of visualizing and activating my highest self because I’ve done it 6 times today. I need a snack. Maybe no one will notice if I do some yoga in the back of the room. Oh man, there are 4 more speakers before the keynote. I’m feeling antsy and I want to go implement. Or talk to her. Or take a walk. Just something that lets me crawl out of this seat. I can feel my butt pancaking with each passing second.
You might have ADHD. Or not. Most humans aren’t meant to sustain focus for hours on end. And our bodies definitely aren’t supposed to sit for that many hours either. You probably have the most energy in your friend group. The one who can’t relate to people’s exhaustion when you’re the toddler of the household, packing your days with audacity and logging off at 2 am when the genius idea is fully fleshed out.
It sometimes feels like conferences aren’t built for you. I don’t feel like the typical events model is built for me. I love speaking. I love working a room. I love a sponsored latte. But often times I find myself tuning out education when it’s too general, too monotone, or too basic. I’m a bit of a diva when it comes to my attention. Because discernment and tending to my brain have been the reason I’m able to scale things so quickly. At the same time, I don’t think I know everything. Far from it. I’m an Ops idiot and constantly need to get limiting beliefs slapped out of me. I love tapping into experts. I love collaborating. And I sure as hell love when someone sees one of my strategic blindspots, sits me down, and doms me into what to do next.
But to stay engaged, educational inputs need to feel like they’re for me. Not 100 people who are similar to me.
If you’re still reading this, I take it you’re someone who likes action. If something resonates, you’ll do it. You’re not someone who sits and stews in generations of fear. You’re not someone who proudly wears ‘did this all by myself’ like its some entrepreneurial badge of honor. You’re probably quick to make the ask. And you find yourself getting annoyed when people are posting Threads like ‘anyone else think this entrepreneurship stuff is hard?’ Maybe you don’t even join masterminds because you move too fast to sift through other people’s hot seats. Or maybe I just took it too far. Or maybe you love me a little more for saying that.
I’ve always been weird. Not neon tank tops, pigtails, falsified accents, and drunk uncle at a wedding weird. But weird in that I feel like I don’t follow scripts. I saw the event industry equating programming to hours of speakers and started asking ‘why?’ Why have we all collectively decided that some of the most action-oriented, brilliant women on the planet want to spend 2 full days bathing in passivity? Sometimes I want to bring back my inner college student and soak up someone’s strategic story. But that mode is the minority of how I like to do business.
My most successful months have always come from a season of play. Creating offers because I thought of something whimsical in the shower. Saying the thing that gets people talking. Treating business like this giant experiment where the person who does the most cool stuff gets their paper published. Running my business is where my competitive spirit and zest for life intersects, so why don’t I do more of want breathes momentum instead of trying to stop it with formalities and frameworks?
So I did. After roughly 25 conferences, parading around as a professional socialite (and speaker), I sat in my hotel room and actually activated my highest self. Let me stop b*tching about my sore kneecaps and actually create the first conference with zero speakers.
The first idea that popped into my head was a tradeshow. But then I thought of men and polos and spinners and people trying to avoid eye contact because the founders are too eager with their Canva brochures. But the idea is there. The information exchange is efficient, direct, and active.
What about a carnival? It’s the kind of question that makes you laugh at yourself because it’s so outlandish you think even your MacBook Air is judging you. But give a copywriter an idea and she’ll write out a landing page for sh*ts and giggles. So I told my laptop to mind its own business and started typing away.
The vision is simultaneously simple and unnecessarily complicated. First, we remove the stage. Then we have a space for people to set up carnival booths. But instead of kissing a stranger or dunking a poor victim, each booth gives the attendee 1:1 attention for their business.
You go to Hannah’s haunted house table because you want to create a personalized story structure so good it lets you post and ghost. You go to Tini’s ‘shut up my show it on’ lounge because you need to tap into her brain to create a viral IG series concept ahead of the Meta Episodes roll out. You go to Julianna’s Sip + Set because you’re craving a cotton candy mocktail and you’d like her to automate your biggest headache while she bartends for you.
Then, once you interact with the table holder, you go to the implementation lounge to build it. Test out the story idea. Record the first video. Click ‘publish’ on the automation. Then bring it back to the table holder. Ask hyper-specific questions they’d usually charge $1000+ to answer.
And then, if you need a brain break, you can hop into the moon bounce, clear your head, and see who you meet in there. After all, this event isn’t very newbie friendly, so even though the vibes are fun, the ticket holders are in their growing + scaling era. And because I love ensuring people meet the right people, I’ll be hand-intro-ing you to people you need to meet based on a pre-event questionnaire.
The Proximity Marketplace. A cheeky nod to our industry’s obsession with paying for proximity. Something my ideal audience of online business owners, service providers, personal brands, and creative entrepreneurs will get.
To you, if you’re still here and thinking, ‘this girl is crazy and I agree with every word she just said’ I think your travel budget might need to include a trip to Austin, TX on November 12th to come to the world’s first business carnival.
Love,
Lucy
(p.s. even though this is a letter, it feels like a good time to CTA with ‘get your ticket’)
