It’s a Helluva Community

Basking in the afterglow of Epicurrence three, I once again find myself humbled, inspired and bursting with gratitude. There’s a particular kind of exhausted smile I can’t wipe off my face that comes with the late nights and early mornings, every second packed with some combination of honest conversations, opposing perspectives and pee jokes. All aspects of it unquantifiable — the inspiration, the learning, the friendships, the laughter — you’d be hard pressed to find someone who can tell you exactly what makes Epicurrence so special. Certainly not one who can attempt it in 50 words or less.

A word that comes up a lot is conversation. The conversations at Epicurrence are unlike those at other conferences, or meetups, or networking, or code-and-coffee bullshit. There is no bullshit. Pairing up two-by-two, then four-by-four for the chair lift each day, insured everyone had a chance to get to know one another, and effortlessly led to the kind of intimacy that fosters real and raw conversations (and set the stage for those deep chats you only find when you slide into a hot tub after a long day on the mountain). Fears, anxieties, mistakes and lessons were all shared openly and discussed honestly. It’s the kind of conversation that makes you do a hair-pin turn, and re-think everything you’ve been doing up to now.

One such conversation has stuck with me. As a freelancer—working by myself, figuring things out by myself, and screwing up by myself all-the-freakin-time—I have, on occasion, stomped my feet and declared it just. not. fair. Everyone else gets teachers. Everyone else has a mentor. How am I supposed to get any better if no one will help me? Just because I’m not working at an agency, I can’t have a mentor too? What if I stop growing? What if I can’t figure anything else on my own? What if I make a colossal mistake and no one is there to stop me? WHY WON’T SOMEONE MENTOR ME?

At the first Epicurrence, I was somewhere in the middle of my tantrum, anticipating the attention of my soon-to-be mentor, and asking all my new Epicurrence friends how I can expedite our match-making. Over the past year, I’ve continued to ask them other questions when I’m feeling stuck. I’ve asked them to help me with quotes and contracts, or how to word difficult conversations. I’ve asked for .ai files when I have a deadline I can’t meet. I’ve called when I have exciting news. I’ve complained until I ran out of words. I’ve encouraged them to do the same.

..So.. exactly the kind of questions that made me yearn for a mentor.

Without fail, they were met with exactly the kind of answers you’d get from a mentor too. These articulate, thoughtful, thought-provoking answers that one only receives when someone believes in you more than you believe in yourself, and relishes in your successes as if they were their own, were exactly what I was missing. And it occurred to me; maybe I do have a mentor, or at least, I have mentorship. The only difference is mine’s not all in one person.

I’ve been waiting for someone to take my hand and lead me to the next step of my career. Hoping and wishing that someone will stop and notice me; decide they want to take responsibility for my success. So stuck on the teacher-student mould, I missed what I already had: mentorship can be mutual. I realized any relationship that starts with honesty and mutual respect is one I can learn from. It’s one I can teach from. The line between teacher and student can be so blurred it’s imperceivable. Rather, it’s peers working together for everyone’s combined success, and revelling together in that bursting feeling of pride when any one of us pulls something off.

So I can’t promise you’ll find your mentor at the next one. Instead, you’ll make friends. A lot of friends. The really good kind that only come along once in a while, but once you find ’em, you know they’re for keeps. They just happen to work in your field. They just happen to be some of your heroes. You’ll feel the warmth of the design community. You’ll see the fears and the failures of the design community. You’ll build something lasting, and continue to reap the benefits for a lifetime. You’ll find where you fit in from person-to-person, from strength-to-weakness on the student-teacher scale. You’ll find mentorship, in a thousand hey-man-you-got-a-second’s, from a thousand* people who will always make the time. You’ll be face to face with community we’ve built, and guys, it’s a helluva community.

Plus, you’ll get to ride with me, which is pretty fun. I think..

*okay like 600 I think, but it sounded better, okay?