When I launched my book publishing business around 11 years ago, I’ll never forget the delicious thrill of signing our very first client. It felt like Christmas morning when you’re a kid, combined with your first crush as a teenager and the first time you hear “I love you” as an adult. I was just sooooo excited that someone actually wanted to hire my services (they like me, they really like me!) that I didn’t think about the practicalities – like charging them appropriately. I was so amazed that my dream was happening, that my commercial mindset (what little there was at the time) went out the window. I would have happily done the project for free. Hell, I would have paid them to hire me.

      And so for a project that took 13 months to complete, I charged just AU$4000, which definitely wasn’t nothing, but was it profitable? I could have earned more selling homemade lemonade from a crate outside my office. At an average of 20 hours of manpower per week, the project would have taken a total of 1040 hours, which meant our hourly rate was about AU$3.85. Meanwhile, the client made about AU$195,000 in revenue – and he was still late in paying me.

      Yet, I can’t blame the client (although I’m gritting my teeth writing this) because he didn’t ask for such a low fee – I naively offered it! If I had to sum up the first three years of my business in two words they would be, ‘overservicing’ and ‘undercharging’. I was working around the clock to offer the best service at the lowest possible cost, totally underestimating my own worth and that of my company. Most start-ups struggle because they can’t get attention or find clients, yet people were falling over themselves to work with us (and I’m so grateful, as I look back on that time). But in the end, it was more than just because of what we did: we represented a phenomenal bargain and as a result, people utterly loved us.

      In those early days we didn’t charge any mark-up on costs. Not a cent! When it came to production of the books, we handed the invoice totals straight from the manufacturers to our clients. We didn’t even charge an administration fee. Because I inherited my grandfather’s stoic work ethic (he was an Australian politician and was up working before sunrise and still going well after dark every day, actively involved in charity, on the board of many prominent organisations and playing tennis until nearly the day he died), I went over and beyond on every project and also wanted to treat all of our clients like VIPs no matter what they could offer us. This is exactly why, on one memorable occasion, I ended up being held to ransom on a trampoline at a client’s launch party. After already losing money on the job, I should have said no when she asked me to MC her launch party for free (I didn’t). I should have also walked away when she got extremely drunk at the party and expected me to spend three hours on her son’s trampoline with her (again, I didn’t). It was a lesson in boundaries – and a lack of them.

      This brings me to this chapter’s topic: hurdles and hang-ups. Because even the most eager and experienced entrepreneur can get caught out, hung-up and held back by money memories, imprints and scars from their past, like those we discussed in chapter one.

      There is a reason that so many financial planners are teaming up with life coaches, psychologists and counsellors – because helping a person become financially prosperous isn’t simply about teaching them how to calculate profit margins. I recently read an article where financial planners estimated they spent 25 per cent of their time with clients talking about non-financial issues, such as family dysfunction, illness, divorce, depression or spirituality. They really should think about putting therapist’s couches in bank manager’s offices (I’m only half joking) because of the layer upon layer of emotional barriers, roadblocks and hurdles that affect whether a person can balance a bottom line. Have you ever said the sentence, “I’m not good with money”? What does that really mean? What is at the crux of that statement? Do you mean you’re not good at maths, multiplying and square-rooting or does the problem run much deeper? I’d hedge a guess that it’s not simply a matter of not understanding taxable income.

      Do you suffer from low financial self-esteem? I certainly did. At this early stage of my entrepreneurial journey, I didn’t have the insight to see how my childhood memories and my subconscious belief that money could cause trouble, upset and envy, were affecting how I handled my business in adulthood. When it came to my assets, I was blinkered to my real worth and I was afraid to ask for what I deserved because I didn’t want to admit that money does actually matter. With the wisdom of experience, I should have sat down with that first client and laid out exactly how much manpower the project would take, how much to-and-fro we would do with the production team, and the discounts I would be able to pass on because I’d nurtured relationships with suppliers. I should have explained that this is what he was paying for – the abstract skills that aren’t always visible – our intellectual property, our connections and relationships, our experience, as well as the manpower and the materials. I only had myself to blame because I bit my lip and blocked my own profit. I didn’t feel worthy. Clearly, I didn’t yet value myself.