If you don't agree with this next statement, Reader ...

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I'm not sure we can be friends.

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Halloween is a STINKY holiday.

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I haven't been inside a Spirit in nearly a decade, but ohhhh boy the smell is an instant recall.

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That inhale of infected latex as you try on the werewolf mask for your mom...

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The whole experience is very Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I mean ... I always felt like I was putting someone's face on mine. Except the masks smelled *worse* than an actual peeled face. (I assume ...)

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So that's the smell I equate with Halloween.

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And the feeling of Halloween?

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Dreadfully dreadful dread.

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I hated to trick-or-treat. I'm sorry — you want me to trespass on someone's property and knock on their door? And then REPEAT THAT ALL NIGHT LONG?

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No amount of fun-size Snickers ever made it easier.

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Or more fun.

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Or less kill-me-I-don't-want-to-do-this.

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I think it was the impending interactions I hated most.

(Moment of silence for the households who just put a bowl out and stay inside with their martinis and Hocus Pocus reruns.)

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Because ... I don't know who's going to open that door.

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I don't know what they're going to say, or what kind of energy they're going to bring, or how uncomfortable I'll feel as they "appreciate" my Jasmine costume for a few beats too long.

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I hated two specific things the most, though:

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1. Not knowing the right level of small talk (surely "trick or treat" wasn't the right way to go about things?!)

2. How to exit post-haul

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I was always anxious about the exit. I needed to be grateful and kind, but quick about it, so as not to inconvenience them into thinking that what they handed me was not enough. I needed to be one of the kids that made them think, "well that was a nice kid."

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(Hi, I'm Kelsey. I overthink things.)

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Halloween was too much pressure.

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And, thus, I remember only the anxiety exhaustion of the night, and stealing candy from my little brother.

(He would end up thriving in door-to-door sales for a time, so ... yeah, Halloween was a thrill for him.)

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Thus, it follows ...

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... that one of my favorite things about having an online business is that it's NOT HALLOWEEN.

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I'm not forced into a one-size-fits-all, do-this-weird-activity, act-like-you-like-it ritual.

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Because there are so many ways to run a business.

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All personality types are welcome. All levels of anxiety can thrive. You can build a business being YOU.

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You can dance in a reel that you'll spend an hour editing OR you can just toss some cheeky subject lines into the free version of Canva and call it a day.

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You don't have to film yourself at a cute coffee shop because that other lady always does it. And you don't have to show yourself on a yoga mat every day because the other "successful" entrepreneurs do.

(Side note: I can tell you — from experience — that she did not actually do yoga.)

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You can be whomever you are, whatever you want to be, and whatever sounds fun in the moment.

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Yes, I'm telling you to be authentic.

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To be yourself. To show it all off in your writing.

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And if you don't know how to do that yet ...

If you don't know what makes you unique ...

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Talk to me about The Copy Audit.

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Because there's no sense in looking and sounding and writing like everyone else.

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When you're not.

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I have 10 spots open for November.

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Oh, and there's a treat! 🍭

​Book before Nov 1 and save $101. Happy Halloween.​

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Speaking of, that's later this week. So I've got to run the store now because ... the people I blessed earlier? The ones who just put a bowl out and get drunk on martinis watching Hocus Pocus? That's me.

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Much love ✌️Kelsey

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PS Halloween circa 1999 ... introverts are Zorro. Future door-to-door-ers are Hercules. It checks out.