The Simple Rule I Forgot That Ruined My Summer

by Lindsay Schlick, Founder, Content Strategist & Producer

I’ve always loved the slow days of summer. The easy mornings. The longer evenings. The gentle invitation to breathe a little deeper, sit a little longer, and not rush so damn much.

But this summer? It nearly broke me.

It happened right after our vacation in early July. Brian and I came home recharged and hopeful—until we opened the calendar.

Crickets.

No shoots. No meetings. Just wide-open white space… and not the peaceful kind.

At first, I shrugged. It’s summer. Everyone’s traveling. It’s fine—it’s FINE.

Then came the doomscroll: a curated minefield of friends with booked calendars, lavish vacations, successful marketing campaigns. I wasn’t just envious of the ones who were busy; I was envious of the ones who were free.

Everyone seemed to be doing summer right, while I was quietly unraveling in my office, obsessively refreshing my inbox like a slot machine that never pays out.

I had to get out of there. 

Shutting down my computer—still without a new booking—I decided to get a drink with some friends. That’s when Jen started sharing her summer update. 

She had prepped her clients in advance, mapped out her workload, hit her numbers and still had time to actually enjoy herself. She radiated balance. She glowed.

And I couldn’t hear a single word she said.

Because while she was describing success, I was sinking in shame.

I wasn’t mad at Jen. I was mad at myself—for knowing better, for teaching better, and for still ending up here.

That night, when I went home, I finally admitted it: the problem wasn’t summer. The problem definitely wasn’t Jen.

Hi, I’m the problem. It’s me.

Somewhere along the way, I’d abandoned the one rule that has carried me through every hard season before. 

The Rule I Forgot

Look for people, not money.

When you’re focused on people, you’re looking for ways to help, support, or simply show up. You reach out to a colleague. You check in with a client. You walk into a networking event not thinking What can I sell? but Who can I serve?

But when you’re focused on money, everything shifts. You obsess over numbers. You panic about sales. You start treating relationships like transactions. And the work feels colder, more robotic—and less effective.

The shift is simple, but powerful:

• Start with your monthly revenue goal.
  
• Divide it by your average sale.
  
• That’s how many people you need to find this month.
  

For us, it works out to five sessions a week. That’s it. Five opportunities to serve. 

Not five sales. Not five dollar signs. Just five people who need what we do.

When I forgot that? I got stuck in fear.

When I remembered it? I got back to service.

Coming Back to Service

When I remembered the rule, I knew I had to live it. And for me, that always starts in the same place: service.

When I’m struggling—life throws curveballs, imposter syndrome takes hold, revenue drops—I return to one simple question:

Who can I serve today?

It’s the only thing that brings me back to center. The minute I shift my focus toward someone else, the noise quiets. The panic fades. Gratitude creeps in where anxiety used to live.

It’s like something in my soul starts to recalibrate.

Helping someone else—in whatever small way I can—heals me. Every single time.

So I started small. A kind text. A handwritten note. A quiet check-in. A thoughtful introduction. The tiniest moments of connection became little lifelines—for me and the people on the other end.

I stopped chasing. I started caring. And from that space, the work returned.

✨ A client who had chosen someone else came back for a reshoot.
✨ A family returned from vacation ready to market again.
✨ A lead abroad asked me to follow up when she got home.

One connection at a time, momentum started to build.

I even found clarity in the no’s—because I wasn’t grasping anymore. I was moving with purpose. And I was doing the one thing that has always worked:

Consistent, intentional service.

The Quiet Grind That Saves Me

Running a business is like running on a wheel that never stops spinning. You’re constantly searching for the next customer. The moment you step off—without a plan—you feel it.

I had stepped off. And it cost me my summer.

So I got back to the grind. Not from panic, but from love for the people I serve.

I combed through leads with care. I reached out with heart. I dedicated one focused hour every morning to reconnecting with people, not prospects.

And almost immediately, I felt the shift.

Headshots started coming in again. Small shoots filled the calendar. But most importantly—I stopped treating the work like survival and started treating it like the craft I love.

I poured myself into every session. I let creativity lead. I reminded myself that every single booking is an honor, not a given.

And slowly, passion replaced panic.

The Way Forward

The next time Jen asked how I was doing, I didn’t sugarcoat it.

I was still in the thick of it—working every single day to fill my calendar, hustling harder than I had in years. But I was so much happier.

Because this time, I was in control.

And I realized I’m not the only one who faces these seasons. We’re all human. Life happens. Business dips. Mindsets spiral.

Usually, I give myself a couple of days to lick my wounds and come back stronger. But this time, I took a month. And at what cost?

If I had returned to the simple rules I know—the ones I teach—I could’ve spent just one hour a day nurturing leads all summer long. Then I could’ve gone home each night, sat in our back garden with a glass of wine, and said: “I did my best today. Whatever the outcome is, I did what I could.”

I would’ve had a balanced summer, full of work and reward. It still wouldn’t have been perfect, but it would have felt purposeful—a season I could feel proud of.

I never want to give myself permission to have a bad season, but when it happens, I do want to give myself grace. And had I followed my own rules from the start, that grace would’ve come a whole lot easier.

At the end of the day, I am in control of this ship—even when the waters are rough.

We don’t control the weather.

We don’t control who climbs aboard.

But we do get to choose to stay at the wheel, hands steady, until we’re through the storm.

And yes—that’s a hard truth to accept sometimes.

But the longer we resist it, the more chances we lose to change direction. 

About SchlickArt 

SchlickArt, a luxury visual marketing company based in Santa Clarita, started in March 2012 with the simple idea that empowerment creates a kind of authenticity that shines through every camera lens. Built on a philosophy–rather than a product, service or person–SchlickArt has rapidly evolved, meeting fractional CMO, business and strategy planning, professional portraiture, business photo and business video needs as diverse as the community we capture. It’s the desire to take care of you, the client, that drives us at SchlickArt.

Kirsten Quinn

A lover of strong coffee and yellowed pages, Kirsten Quinn-Smith is a professional content writer and owner of WordSmith Content Marketing here in Santa Clarita. She believes great content can forge a loyal, authentic and beneficial relationship between you and your audience – and grow your business. With each piece of writing, Kirsten's goal is to position you in the content spotlight through audience-centered, strategy-based writing that actually sounds like you. Why? Everyone has a story, and every story deserves to be heard.

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