By Clara Elizabeth
As the cratered husk that is churned out by impermanence and latent greed.
You must taste the floral fringes of this already quickly blooming night
As if you are momentarily mired in enchanting desolation,
Having all but finished fiendishly draining the last lifeblood from the sickly greying dawn.
I will love you fingerlessly,
Swathe you in eremitic reverence,
Allow every precious bleeding stanza to fill me with your fervently impending absence.
It is my most beloved blessing that there is nothing I can hold.
Tag: Suspect Press
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How to touch something good
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Remember this: you’re always drunk at the wheel.
You need to turn the volume up.
There is no one else to give the wheel to.
You must wake yourself up.
Turn the volume up.
Please.
When the moon was halfway down
You didn’t take a fucking walk;
Because just as hard as it is to run with the weight of lead,
It is just as hard to think with gold inside your head.
Now the keys are in the ignition
And a few more glasses of that sweet rum gone.
You are drunk and you are driving;
With our entire aching humanity in your back seat.
Who is the Guru in this silver Audi?There is no one here.
You are almost asleep at the wheel.
The Guru reminds you that you know the way home by heart.
Wake up.
The Guru reminds you that you are drunk and we all could die at any moment.
Please, once again: wake up.
The Guru reminds you that all of humanity depends on your driving tonight.
Darling, again.
The Guru reminds you that we all get home safe as long as you
Wake up.
Now.
Now
NOW!
You must not stop waking up again until we are all home safe.
This may feel like a dream but this is very real.
Who is the Guru on this gauntlet drive?
Who put the keys in your hand?
You did.
We’ve been drunk our entire lives and just now realize we are driving the whole babe of
humanity home in the backseat of this silver Audi.
On two misaligned axels,
Three wheels flat out of four,
With the Guru in your head where
the gold used to be:
Tuning in and out to the melodious static
Ricocheting through mountains,
We make a home in the car that could be our coffin.
The sooner the scenery loses its novelty;
The sooner you realize we are already home,
The sooner we get to stop driving.
Please,
I supplicate:
Do not crash.
I am but a baby in the seat behind you.
Before you know it,
We have been home this whole time.
So again:
Wake up! -
If you are going to dance in the community ballroom
By Clara Elizabeth
If you are going to dance in the community ballroom
To a different tune than the others
Do so with eyes wide
Do not be blinded
While you swing with your known neuroses
Do not have only eyes locked with the delusion of your own
While you waltz
Do not listen solely for your cues and beats
While the orchestra brawls beneath
You must be able to hear the others’ whimpers
While they stumble and halt
Missing choruses entirely
Their dancing is not as gentle as yours
Yet you are still just but half way
Between their dramatic drunken fumbling
And your instructor’s spritely prance
You should not dance so openly in the community ballroom
With meditative abandon
In a clumsy, half-evolved step
Still entrained to old grooves
Unless you feel the function of their drunken funking so intimately
You can twist and swing their jive into yours
Lest others
In inebriation
Read your nimble ecstasy
In their signature of time
And believe your rhythmic ricocheting
To be a tribute to the junkie jump they are stoned on
It is for a similar reason
That it is not good to chant mantra in the washroom
The deafened in the stalls believe you make gossip
They become less likely to taste that they are trapped inside their own mouths
Supplicate to your instructor
Beg to feel their footsteps in the coarse carpet of your mind
Beg to feel their profoundly grooving rhythm by the pumping of your blood
Beg to feel their kind hands pull your waist back to balance after every nauseating,
off-beat spin
Since you seem to be held in the frozen claw of perpetual movement
There may be a chance
The beloved dancing yogi
Will teach out of sweet mercy for all beings
The ballroom mirror winks and smiles with a woeful jig
There is a message for you in your own shimmy
If you are taught to sashay to the beat of your own flighty, shifting breath
In a ballroom blasting booze-bombed loops
Aural Ouroboros anthems
In a key of asynchronously experienced thrills
You must dance with eyes so open and empty
The drunks see through the hollow handle of the soul
To the melodious and enchanting discotheque
Housed in the only warehouse:
The awakened mind of uncontrived open space -
![Lover, for the sake of being clear with you [In conversation with Alice Wirth Gray’s “On a Nineteenth Century Color Lithograph of Red Riding Hood by the Artist J.H.,” from What The Poor Eat (1993)]](https://suspectpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/10/Lover-for-the-sake-of-being-clear-with-you-picture.png)
Lover, for the sake of being clear with you [In conversation with Alice Wirth Gray’s “On a Nineteenth Century Color Lithograph of Red Riding Hood by the Artist J.H.,” from What The Poor Eat (1993)]
By Clara Elizabeth
If we are here constructing narratives
I’m a much better story-teller than you are.
My grandmother was a poet, taught by Langston Hughes.
It was more like this:
I was Little Red Riding-hood
And you the hungry wolf
Except I’m Little Red whose grandmother hung a lithograph of a wolf over the head of
her bed when she was a girl.
So I know all about you and your kind.
See, I knew you would be about
Just by the smell of you:
Sweet, cloying desperation
Starved lust for any skimpy morsel of Purity
Your thrashing greed to be the Animal on top.
I didn’t have to see all the way into those dark, beckoning woods to know that you were
lurking there.
I’m no longer that type of fool.
I lead you all the way to sweet blanketed granny.
Waited for you to mount the bed
And begin moaning with pleasure —
Devouring your sleeping prey
To press the knives of my fingertips into the fragrant blushing skin of your tender,
muscled back.
(If you want to finish someone
By playing into powerlessness, All the power lies in your timing.)
Lover, for the sake of being clear with you,
I will ask you for your response:
Who really is Little Red,
And,
Who is The Teeth?
For you are now little and red against my teeth
In my lipstick
Smeared
And on granny’s now splatter-paint linen sheets
Lush,
Before me
In a funeral bed of your-own-heart soaked quilt.
What you may not know, lover:
The knives on my fingers
(The ones you licked honey off of when I secretly shared my basket of goodies with
you)
Cut both ways.
See, sweet granny’s long been dead
(As, now are you)
And I hardly have the karmic merit in the bank to pay my ferocious bail.
Yet, I hope your getaway in Hell isn’t too much of a drag;
For prison won’t bother me.
Sweet granny was staunch to teach me when I was a girl
That anywhere you go
Is just
A place to go
From the place you are. -
Orpheus,
By Clara Elizabeth
Orpheus,
Why do you move to smoke your cigarette away from me?
I breathe your air regardless–
Every time you touch me it hurts.
The way you move death between your teeth,
I, under your lips and breath and tongue.
If I, your fantasy girl, color the walls of your world, then love, what is it to be me other
than an empty, painted thought?
I will not be extinguished, I swear I exist;
I am your perfect girl,
Sweet fool, that is what I want.
Perfect, is what I want!
It is the I, I want.
It is the I in you that I want.
There,
Your fantasy is mine!
I don’t want you, I want me.
You are me.
You are mine.
I am selfish, I am alive.
Now you have become the empty thought.
I will fight you, my Orphic opponent
Which one of us will win out?
We each claw — not be the figment of the other’s mind.
Lest I remind you: only one of us, sweet dear, can live.
But if I were to die, I would do so happily
Your twisted notion of Platonic form.
You did tell me, I’d look beautiful as a dead girl.
And I smiled when I replied that I would. -
A Scale of Wisdom
By Clara Elizabeth
My Beloved Keeper,
You work early mornings
Return late at night
You are gone for days at a time.
I have created an entire world for myself, in this empty house of Yours.
I have gilded the plaster walls with the ornament and leaf of my thinking mind.
I’ve strung up thoughts like streamers with which I bat and play.
Every time You return to feed me, Holy Light, I yelp and yowl in delighted angst
And climb Your legs in order to be held.
But You arrive to find I have torn up the embroidered chairs in Your absence
And in my manic boredom.
You are peeved,
For You seem like God,
And all I do is Want From You:
Your kitchen is filled with glittering fish,
Their Gem eyes deep enough to take Refuge in.
I whimper and slither dangerously
around Your feet.
If You are generous You drop a scrap,
When You are Loving You drop a whole cut.
Yet, any time I catch so much as a scale from You,
I am so ecstatic to be invited to the feast,
That I dash wildly like the beast I am Kill in jaws,
To gnaw and slobber;
Play with Your gift,
Tinker,
Mull it over,
Display and admire it,
In my graveyard of rotting trophies.
So in my absence You incorrectly believe I am at peace.
When the bones are clean,
Only the proof is left.
You have closed the Door
To my beam and dry-wall Cage.
My God, You are Gone,
I just wanted You,
But only my Toys remain. -
Orpheus and Eurydice
What would you give to be loved like she loves her?
The music surrounded her; it lived in her, desperate and heartbroken.
Ada sang of her love; she sang of every trial, every bad night, every good morning.
And before her eyes, the demons of Hades bowed their heads with emotion.
Satan was seen shedding tears; Anubis sobbed into his hands. Hel herself hid her face in her chest.
And so the gods gave Ada a choice; they fashioned a cruel deal, a losing bet.
Escape the realms of Hell with Laurel behind you and you are free. Free to live out the life they had always wanted.
But if you look back, if your eyes stray to Laurel as you brave the path through the realms of the underworld, Laurel will be lost to you, lost to Hell and Hades and Mictlan and Niflheim and Duat. Lost to all the realms of Death itself.
Ada remembered the way it felt to watch the world fall out from under her, the way it felt to feel the light leave her life as Laurel grimaced in pain, as the venom coursed through her veins and took hold of her heart. They had to pull Ada away, had to drag her, kicking and screaming, from Laurel’s lifeless body.
But Ada wouldn’t let that happen this time. Her gaze was steely, angry but determined. She would not look back. She would fulfill her end of the bargain.
What else was there to do? Ada agreed.
They traveled through the murky tunnels; she kept her head down so as not to look behind her, even though every instinct told her to do so.
The gates of Hell seemed so far away. How was Ada supposed to make it all the way there? How was she supposed to ignore the pulsing thoughts that begged her to turn around, to look at Laurel’s face and run as fast as she could out of this wretched place?
The realms of death passed slowly. Heads turned; demons marveled at them; sinners and tortured souls halted their screams. The unquenched fires burned a little lower; the crushing darkness felt a little less crushing, distracted in its shadows. The gnashing of teeth turned to grimacing, and the world seemed to shift, a mirror image turned on its side.
Sisiphus halted his trek, and the realm of Hades seemed to hold its breath. Cerberus stood unnaturally still; Tantalus abandoned his pursuits. The Furies watched with their leathery wings for signs of Ada’s weakness. Persephone observed, her head tilted in interest as the world shifted, the mirror turning on its side again.
The shores were littered with the dead, the walls seemed to slither and writhe, mist and shadows, and relentless cold bore down on her as poison dripped from the walls. Ada held her head firm, putting one foot in front of the other, her heart calling for Laurel, a deep relentless ache. A dragon’s footfalls echoed in her head, the blood of the guilty warm on its mouth. The rivers of the world seemed to flow through her fingers, the mirror twisting again, flitting through her hands like water.
An empty chasm opened up before her, the darkness thick and unrelenting; light is nonexistent here. The fleshless, the bones of the dead taunt her, they whisper of their trials, their challenges. The soul-crushing mountains, the winds with knives for gusts. They whisper to Ada of their world, of their journey, the valley of snakes, the bloodthirsty beasts that crave the taste of the heart. But Ada would not give them her heart, it already belonged to Laurel. She forced her way out, forced herself not to look back, to check that Laurel stood behind her.
Ada stifled a sob, she was weak and broken and there was nothing to be done for it, nothing to stop the way she needed Laurel like she needed her own heartbeat.
There must be an end to this; there must be an end to this suffering and horror, but the mirror twisted again; it twisted again. And then there was burning, burning burning burning, as the lake of fire spread out in front of her, as the caverns burned with darkness, as the serpents hissed their warnings and the evil spirits whipped the world to dust. Ada watched as a scale weighed the hearts of the dead, as the sun god made his way through the realm of death, on his way to rising in the East. She watched the enemies of the sun wait for him, she saw the gates open for him, one by one.
And just as Ada thought she might fall apart, the mirror twisted again, it folded in on itself and it seemed as if the world was opening up in front of her. It was so close.
She looked back. She looked back she looked back she looked back.
Just to see the awe on Laurel’s face, just to see the way her eyes would be shining, to see the way her mouth would be blooming into a smile.
And it was, for one stunning moment, Ada glimpsed Laurel again, like the shining sun, like the way it feels to find your way home.
And then Laurel disappeared into the dark, snatched away by the realms of death, by the cruel hand of the gods.
So, what would you give to be loved like she loves her?
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In and Of Nature
The roots and herbs we just picked are now floating in the rain puddle that has overcome her satchel. I start to run, and she chases. She laughs like a madwoman, hopping over roots, dodging branches. Her bag slaps against her thigh as she runs, sloshing water out as more rain pours in.
Suddenly she stops. She searches, scanning the forest for a recently taken path or the sound of feet against the mud to follow.
I grab her from behind and she shrieks. She shrieks with a pitch so high I fear baby birds may fall from flooded nests, but I can only lose myself to laughter as water splashes from her fists, slapping against my chest in playful aggression.
She settles into me, her baggy jacket a burdensome barrier between us. We begin to dry beneath sheltering leaves as it turns from downpour to drizzle. Sunshine streams in as the clouds move on, and although it is warming, she still shivers.
I lift her eyes to mind, and I kiss her lips still. The forest emerges from the fog surrounding us.
Limbs intertwine like vines, impossible to follow where one begins and one ends.
We are just another pair of plants among the trees, reaching our necks toward the sun. -
It Would Only Take A Minute
It would only take one minute.
You are sitting alone. Alone at the lunch table like you always are. But she is so alive, fire and the bright lightning of a storm.
You could introduce yourself. It would only take a minute.
You could walk over.
A step for each second.
One. Fifty-nine.
Two. Fifty-eight.
Three. Fifty-seven.
Would your feet stutter? Would your hands shake?
Four. Fifty-six.
Five. Fifty-five.
Six. Fifty-four.
Would you trip over your own feet? Would someone bump into you?
Seven. Fifty-three.
Eight. Fifty-two.
Nine. Fifty-one.
Would you lose your nerve and scramble back, hoping nobody saw you?
Ten. Fifty.
You would tap her on the shoulder. You could make a funny joke about the lousy dining hall food, right?
Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven.
She would laugh, god, you hope she would laugh.
Forty-six, forty-five, forty-four.
What would you say next? You would start to panic
Forty-three, forty-two, forty-one.
God, she is beautiful.
Forty.
Dark hair and bronze skin, deep black eyes and a sharp jaw.
Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven.
But then she would ask you your name, and you would be surprised, because nobody has ever wanted to know before.
Thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four.
Luna, you would say, trying to project some confidence into your voice.
Thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one.
You would almost forget to ask her name, even though you already know it.
Thirty.
And what’s your name? You’d say, almost too late.
Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven.
Ava, she would say.
Twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four.
And it is so beautiful, coming from her mouth.
Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one.
What else is there to say?
Twenty.
Do you invite her to eat with you? Do you ask her out? Here and now?
Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen.
The thought makes you cower in your own head.
Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen.
But she makes sure you don’t have to worry about that.
Thirteen, twelve, eleven.
Can I join you? She says, looking back at the table you abandoned.
Ten.
Yes. You would say. Yes, of course.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
It would only take one minute.
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Meow Wolf at Fan Expo!
NORM of Meow Wolf and Andrew Moyes, VP of FAN EXPO joint press conference On a brisk Thursday morning outside of Meow Wolf Denver, NORM, the intergalactic alien life form (think if Jim Henson and Basquiat collaborated to make a puppet) who travels between Meow Wolf’s quantum realms gave a press conference in the sci-fi, cyberpunk, trash-future aesthetic newsstand named Convergence Station. The newsstand is filled with space art postcards and comics (based on dreams of local Denverite writers) from artists around the world. NORM and Andrew Moyes, VP of FAN EXPO have good weird fun to celebrate their partnership for this weekend’s comic convention. Formally Denver Pop Culture Con and before that, and more simply named, Denver Comic Con, will now be going through its third transformation, and the first after the COVID pandemic shut everything down. Originally cancelled from it’s regular summer time event, FanExpo similar to New York Comic Con will be testing the waters under a post-vaccinated world of fandom.
Two of the comics available at the Meow Wolf booth at Fan Expo Charlie LaGreca and others first conceived of Denver Comic Con eight years ago and brought a comic book convention to downtown Denver. The success of that first year was larger than anything expected and continued to grow with each passing year. The nerd force runs strong in Denver. The weight of the Con’s success also contributed to its behind the scenes implosion. A huge dispute broke out between LaGreca and the other founders. LaGreca would later create the independent comic convention, DINK while the remaining founders would continue the convention as Denver Pop Culture Con.
The aftermath left many of the local and independent comic creators feeling alienated and unwanted. There were constant grumblings of mismanagement of the convention, and seemingly abruptly before the pandemic, the announcement was that Fan Expo had taken over the reigns. So far, the word on the street has been favorable; actually paid interns and Pop Culture Classroom thriving since the new management. Oh, and they were able to book the likes of William Shatner fresh off his space trip. Like Meow Wolf, Fan Expo is looking to bridge both the big and small, the universal and esoteric. Time will tell if they are successful, but with the efforts of so many talented artists contributing to both endeavors there is more than ample reason to satiate one’s curiosity by checking out Fan Expo this weekend.
Fan Expo is happening October 29th-31st, 2021 at the Denver Convention Center
Meow Wolf has been a Suspect Press sponsor in the past. -
How to Get Paid: Tools You Can Use Today
By Paul Bindel
Art by Lonnie MF Allen For centuries, creative people have often wondered—mostly in their own minds— “Am I really an artist? A writer? A musician? Or merely someone who makes art, writes, or plays music?”
We can easily settle this debate. You know you’ve really made it if anyone has ever asked you to create for “exposure” or if you’ve ever had a patron ignore your notices about late payment for creative work you’ve already completed. Congrats!
Is that a sadistic way to define an artist? Only if it weren’t true. As many an artist can attest, tens of thousands of clients, patrons and publishers are ready and willing to undervalue your work. (Cue the #notallpatrons crowd.) It’s so common that Jessica Hische has made a playful infographic, which you can find at shouldiworkforfree.com. Spoiler alert: no, you shouldn’t.
While there are many aspects to a healthy client/artist relationship—efficiency, scope of work, collaboration, meeting client goals—payment and the agreements around it should remain a top priority. It’s your bottom line. Here are offensive, defensive and preventative tactics to ensure that you take home what you’ve earned.
Nonfiction writer Scott Carney has seen both tricky and terrible when it comes to publishers. He recently pulled out of a six-figure book deal with Random House when his publishers didn’t respect his creative process. “A lot of freelancers feel like they don’t have any options,” he says. “You have to use whatever tool you can.”
After publishing several best-selling books and countless magazine articles with Wired, Mother Jones, and Playboy, Carney has developed effective—if sometimes curt—tactics in dealing with clients who pay late, or for less than the agreed-upon price.
Carney underscores that slighted creatives shouldn’t hesitate to take action. “Always be escalating,” he says. “Many freelancers feel like their relationships with the client is sacred, and if the client is treating them badly, they need to do better in some way and they’ll never have a client again. My take is that if you have a shitty client, you don’t want to work with them. You need to return the energy they give you.”
When dealing with a late-paying client, the first step is the infamous reminder email: short and dispassionate usually does the trick. When gentle reminders don’t work, however, Carney adds a daily late fee of $100 to the invoice balance to escalate the process. No publication has yet to pay the late fees, but each of them have, finally, paid the invoice.
To add external pressure, you may consider hiring a lawyer or debt collector. While many creatives might believe that hiring a lawyer is out of reach, sometimes all it takes is a sternly worded letter from an attorney for your clients to take action. Additionally, some lawyers are willing to work on contingency, meaning they won’t be paid until after your case wins. A debt collector may be a suitable choice if a client owes you a large amount, but be aware that they will take a cut.
Local musician Jesse Mathews remembers negotiating one of his first gigs at The Aggie in Fort Collins. Over a text the promoter had promised “a cut of ALL ticket sales from the concert on top of a small guarantee,” Mathews recalls. This arrangement motivated the band to sell 50 tickets just on their own. When it was time to pay up, the band earned a measly $300—a cut of only the tickets they had sold, not all the tickets. Mathews now knows this arrangement to be a common industry practice, but that didn’t help him then, after the promoter’s texts had led him to believe otherwise. “I had to give my cut plus more out of my pocket to our trombone player,” he says, “and a few bucks each to the rest of my band, who were visibly disappointed after I had been led to hype them up about our profit for the evening.”
Many stories like Jesse’s start with fuzzy agreements: “I didn’t get it in writing,” “I thought we were friends,” “I understood I would be paid.” While we want to give clients, patrons and publishers the benefit of the doubt, the first step toward clarity is laying out who will do what, by when, and spelling out what happens if any of those fail to happen.
Painter and owner of Afro Triangle Designs, Adri Norris, swears by Tad Crawford’s “Business and Legal Forms” series. “Ever since getting that book and always making sure to do a contract, I’ve gotten paid every time.” In addition to contracts, Norris uses a range of payment processes—half payment up front, accepting online payments and milestone payments—to build trust and protect her work. Even the final payment may need protective measures, Norris explains. “Especially with products, whether physical or digital, I don’t deliver until I get paid.”
But what if your defense against the dark arts isn’t strong enough? Even with a contract, my copywriting clients have gotten behind on payments and in one instance, ended our agreement prematurely due to cashflow issues. Not getting paid can feel annoying, infuriating and even hopeless.
Ultimately, having positive, healthy client relationships requires careful evaluation from the jump. Lincoln Young hasn’t had any significant payment issues in 12+ years as a graphic designer and owner of Swell Creative. He credits that in part to avoiding red flags in the discovery phase.
For instance, Young is very careful to avoid clients who micromanage: “Clients who allow me to do what I’m good at and, in turn, spend their time doing what they’re good at end up with the best results. And, of course, if their teenage neighbor has ‘insight’, we’re probably not a good match.” Young also uses up-front billing in order to protect himself, and he’s only had late payments a few times in his twelve-year career. “Once I’ve worked with a client for a while and there’s mutual trust,” he says, “we can move into a more regular monthly billing process.”
Client relationships characterized by mutual respect, understanding and trust take time to build. And walking away from prospective clients who might not be a good fit isn’t always easy—especially if you need to make money quickly. If you’re feeling stuck, remember to account for the total costs of a client relationship—not just a one-time chance to make money. Every client relationship also involves your energy, your time and your emotions, and it’s as important to protect those as it is to bring home a paycheck.
Originally from rural New Mexico, Paul Bindel spent five years teaching writing before transitioning full time into marketing at Doghead Creative, a digital marketing firm that specializes in content writing, strategy and social media.
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Business Resources for Creative Entrepreneurs
By Paul Bindel
Love or hate resolutions, now is the time most of the Western world pauses to plan and reflect. What will your next step be?
Whether you need peers to push you deeper into your craft or you want to finally write a business plan, use this list as a springboard for action. Think of the people you know who put off doing that one thing that could take their creative work to the next level. Do you want to be them? Then do your thing!Get Inspired & Connected
Denver Metro has many networking groups and masterminds. What sets the list below apart from your everyday mixer is that each of them feature a skills-based workshop or inspirational talk to help you learn new things-in this case, with other people!
1 Million Cups,
Enterprise Coworking, 3000 Lawrence St.
Each Wednesday morning, entrepreneurs gather and listen to 6-min pitches from the local community. Aside from the ever-flowing coffee, the best part is the 20-min Q&A that follows each pitch.Creative Mornings Denver, Location varies
This monthly caffeine-fueled happy hour features networking and an inspiring speaker, by and for creatives. Grab your tickets early because these free events usually sell out. Be on the lookout for evening happy hours as well.Consultants For Good, Location varies
Part networking, part put-it-into-practice, this monthly a.m. series hosted by Lauren Andraski is essentially a free professional development session for freelancers or business owners with a vision for social change. Do you work for arts nonprofits or social enterprises? This is your jam!Ladies, Wine & Design, Location varies
Once a month, badass women in design gather and connect. This multi-city event, originally started by Jessica Walsh, seeks to increase the number of women who spearhead design agencies, so find your people, whether you work in fashion design, product design, graphic design or architecture.Denver Metro Small Business Development Center, 445 Market St.
If you’ve never been to an SBDC office, now is the time to get over that fear. You already pay for this service through your taxes—why not take advantage of their courses, free consulting and pitch competitions? With an approachable culture and offices next door to the Denver Metro Chamber of Commerce, you can meet or get an introduction to pretty much anyone you need to meet in the local business community.RiNoMade Salons
Converge Denver, 3327 Brighton Blvd.
The Denver Public Library and RiNo Art District have teamed up for monthly workshops for creative entrepreneurs. Learn how to introduce your business or how to set up a business budget or other lessons they didn’t teach you in school.Level Up
Most of us didn’t get an MBA, so these business and leadership courses could provide essential information so that you can earn more money, find new customers or finally understand a balance sheet. If you feel uncomfortable at the thought of a business course, that might be all the more reason to step towards it. Embracing discomfort is how you grow!
Rocky Mountain MicroFinance Institute, Re/Launch $150-400 (sliding scale)
Plenty of businesses have made money without a business plan, but writing one ensures that you understand every part of your business and how to keep it running healthy. This 12-week bootcamp, designed for early stage entrepreneurs, includes one-on-one mentorship and culminates in the option of a microloan to help you grow.Denver Metro SBDC, Leading Edge for Entrepreneurs
$550-695 (scholarships available)
This 10-week course will help you write a business plan, and it will connect you in a huge way to all of the resources of the Small Business Development Center. (Psst—Arts & Venues offers a 50% scholarship to creative businesses. Also, if you attend an info session, you might even score a discount on tuition!)The Commons on Champa, CO. Starters $250
Testing an idea? Ready to launch? The Commons hosts events every day—many of them free, so take a moment to explore their calendar and pathways. The CO.Starters program is a 9-week program designed to help you grow, but you could also benefit from their two-day Business Bootcamp ($200, scholarships available) or even the Resource Navigator, a free online resource.Creative Startups, Accelerator $895
The business accelerator that launched Meow Wolf also had two Denver alumni in 2018—GoodCinema and Futures United Network (FUN). Everything about this 10-week program is specifically calibrated for artists and creatives. Each cohort kicks off with five days in Albuquerque, NM (lodging and food included) and features a yearlong mentorship program.Colorado Business Community for the Arts, Leadership Arts $1,500-2,200 (scholarships available)
The only Denver Metro leadership academy focused specifically on arts and culture, this 9-month program (Sept-May) promises to equip its 50 participants with the skills they need to serve on nonprofit boards. While it’s easy to balk at the price, you can write tuition off, and the networking aspect of this program could ultimately lead to sales much greater than the fee.
Originally from rural New Mexico, Paul Bindel spent five years teaching writing before transitioning full time into marketing at Doghead Creative, a digital marketing firm that specializes in content writing, strategy and social media.