Just Keep Going

Ten years ago, I registered a domain name on impulse. I had no money, no plan, and two small kids. Here's what happened.

About ten years ago I did something quite silly.

I had just withdrawn from a master’s program in forensic psychology and, struck by an entrepreneurial seizure, I decided to create an online magazine. I searched for available domain names and stumbled across quillette.com. That’ll do, I thought, and I registered it.

That decision changed my life.

The magazine gained traction quickly. I had a network of interesting contacts through my psychology studies, and many of them were keen to write for me.

After we began publishing heterodox academics, bestselling authors like Richard Dawkins and Steven Pinker became readers and started sharing Quillette articles with their millions of followers. Not long after, I was interviewed by CNN in a New York studio and invited to founder retreats on secluded islands. One minute I was mashing pear for my toddler daughter; the next, I was on a plane to San Francisco or LA.

Within two years, Quillette was receiving 3 million pageviews a month. I had international investors knocking on my door. Politico ran a feature about me.

But success isn’t always what it seems.

Despite the traction, the pageviews, and the attention, I didn’t have a real company. I had product-market fit, but I didn’t yet know how to monetise it. I didn’t have a growth plan. On most days, I was drowning in the work I’d created for myself. I couldn’t step away because there was no one to step in.

I had built a job — not a business. And I was now a slave to that job.

At the time, my daughter Nora was still in nappies (diapers, for Americans). Eric had just started school. I was paralysed by conflict. When I was working, I felt guilty for not being with my kids. When I was with my kids, I felt guilty for not working. The tension was constant and exhausting.

From the outside, my business appeared “successful.” On the inside, it was chaos. I didn’t know how to manage staff or contractors. I didn’t know how to build systems, manage IP, or set a budget — let alone stick to one. Everything I did was intuitive. I had no playbook. No guidance.

Meanwhile, online abuse was constant. People called me a “Nazi” simply for publishing work by academics who questioned dominant orthodoxies. These days, The Atlantic and The New York Times publish articles scrutinising gender medicine or academic groupthink — but Quillette was exploring those issues half a decade earlier.

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As the years passed, my daughter started school. My son became more independent.

My children have always known that I’m “busy.” One of the first phrases they learned to say was “I busy” — their toddler version of leave me alone.

Because his mother was always busy, Eric came up with helpful ways to reduce my load. One year during Book Week, he said: “You don’t even have to worry about a costume, Mum. Just make me stinky.” He went as Mr. Stink.

As they grew older and things at home stabilised, I was able to refocus on the business.

I enrolled in a Foundations of Directorship course with the Australian Institute of Company Directors. It gave me the structure I needed to separate out my roles as director and manager. I devoured books and podcasts about business (How I Built This, in particular). I studied companies run by women. I studied companies that failed.

I gave up on chasing some abstract end point — and focused on simply getting better. “Progress not perfection” is a cliché, but it stuck with me. I stopped blaming myself for not knowing everything from the beginning. If I made more progress this year than last, I was moving in the right direction.

From the earliest days of Quillette’s (somewhat accidental) success, I felt out of my depth. And I was.

But when you’re out of your depth, all you can do is keep going.

I recently ran a half marathon without training — from Woy Woy to Gosford on the Central Coast of NSW. Another impulsive decision. I started regretting it at the 13km mark. But I kept going. I was slow. I lacked grace. But I made it to the finish line.

And nearly ten years since I registered that domain, I now run a real company.

Quillette makes over $1 million in annual revenue. We’re profitable. We’re cash flow positive. We remain founder-owned. I have a wonderful team. And I’ve built an operation that doesn’t collapse if I step away — which means I can take holidays, or start writing a book.

I’m no longer drowning. I’m no longer a slave to my own work.

To others thinking of starting something “silly” like I did ten years ago — take the risk. There were very few people less qualified to run a business than I was. But here we are.

There will be days when you feel like you’re failing at everything. You’re not. You’re learning. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going.