Sassy Frass and the Little Gigs That Could

As the saying goes, “She believed she could, so she did.”

I started this story with a cup of ambition. It may have been coffee, it may have been tea, and it definitely came with a little “Lord, please let me know what I’m doing” energy. Leaving my corporate job wasn’t a tiny “let’s see what happens” decision. It was a stomach-flipping leap into the unknown.

Corporate work came with a familiar routine and plenty of reasons to stay put. But someone encouraged me to consider building a business of my own. I looked at what they were doing and thought, I can see how this could work. And I think I can do it better and more efficiently in my own way.

That thought stayed with me. It was bold, maybe a little cheeky, and it helped me see a possibility I wanted to take seriously. I already had skills I could bring with me. I knew how to communicate, create, share ideas, connect with people, and keep showing up for work that mattered to me. I had built those abilities through my work, advocacy, speaking, writing, and other projects. I didn’t suddenly become capable when I left corporate. I had been learning and practicing for years.

I didn’t need somebody else to announce that I was ready, and I didn’t need to know every answer before I began. I needed to trust what I already knew how to do, stay open to learning, and take the next sensible step. Believing in myself didn’t mean expecting every choice to work perfectly. It meant knowing I could adjust, learn from a mistake, and keep going. Confidence grew each time I followed through and saw that I could handle what came next.

Taking a risk didn’t mean closing my eyes, jumping off a cliff, and hoping I’d learn to fly on the way down. I wanted the idea to have a real foundation: a clear purpose, a practical way to keep the work going, and room for my skills to grow. I wasn’t trying to gamble everything on one lucky break. I was looking for a sturdy path I could build step by step. A good risk can still feel scary, but it needs something solid underneath it.

So I took my few connections, my blog, and a cup of ambition, gathered up my nerve, and there I went. I didn’t have every detail figured out or a magical business fairy waiting to hand me a tidy plan. I had experience, ideas, determination, and a stubborn streak that said, “I’ve come this far. Let’s see what I can make of it.”

At first, the work came in bits and pieces. A project here. A speaking gig there. A panel opportunity when the timing worked out. I said yes to some projects and no to others, learning as I went which work fit my skills, my goals, and my actual life.

It took about eighteen months to build steady, consistent work with organizations. That’s a long time to keep being patient and keep putting yourself out there. Some days, the pieces probably looked small on their own. But I kept showing up, doing good work, making connections, and finding the next opportunity. Eventually, those pieces began to form a more dependable picture.

Some projects are close to my heart. Others are a practical fit for the business at that moment. Both can have a place. Paid projects help me keep my business moving and support the advocacy work I care about. I get to choose a mix of work that makes sense for my goals.

I saw that mix matter when one of my panel gigs ended. I felt the loss in my plans for the year, but then I remembered a course with rewards that I had sat through back in March. At the time, it was simply an extra opportunity I decided to take. Months later, the rewards from that course helped make up for what I lost when the panel work ended.

That was the moment the little gigs clicked for me. I hadn’t taken the course knowing it would come in handy later. I had taken it because it made sense at the time. Then, when one source of work ended, something I’d done months earlier helped steady things. One small choice had quietly become part of the foundation I was building. It reminded me that extra opportunities can matter long after the day you take them.

That doesn’t mean I have to say yes to everything. I’ve learned that it’s okay to say no. Before I take on a project, I can think about the time, energy, expectations, and whether it fits my plans. Saying no doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful or unwilling to work. It means I’m taking my own limits seriously and making room for the work that suits me.

My time and energy count. My body has limits, and I respect them. I can be ambitious without pretending I’m a machine with a cute logo. I choose work that makes sense for me and helps me keep doing this over time.

I didn’t begin with a perfect master plan. I figured out the next step, then the one after that. My business grew through persistence, flexibility, and a whole lot of figuring it out as I went. Now I’m doing work that fits me better than corporate ever did. I’m happier, I have more say in what I take on, and I’m building a work life around the person I actually am.

So, to the little gigs that showed up along the way: thank you for your service. You filled gaps, opened doors, and helped make the bigger plan possible. Progress didn’t arrive in one big, sparkly package. It came one project, one connection, and one “sure, I can do that” at a time.

So if a little gig comes along and it fits your life, your limits, and your goals, pick it up, darn it. It may not look like much in the moment, but by the end of the year, those little projects can add up and make a real difference. Sometimes the little gigs are what keep the whole dream going.

Dolly Parton said, “Find out who you are and do it on purpose.” I’m still figuring things out, but I know I’m building a work life that feels like mine, one thoughtful yes, one well-timed no, and one little gig at a time.