Exactly 14 years ago this month I started my own business. Like most things in my small universe, it wasn’t a very graceful transition. This was before the term “entrepreneur” made it onto the collective radar. Most people just thought I was nuts. “What about health insurance? How are you going to get clients? What happens if all the work dries up?” I could see I needed to add “hire new cheerleading squad” to my list of things to do—right behind “buy computer” and “research bean recipes.” Those first few years were equal parts exhilaration and terror. The great unknown had taken a fast train to the pit of my stomach and remained parked in that gastric rail station until about 2003. They say the five year mark is an important waypoint along the road to recovery from disease, addiction, and heartbreak. It’s no wonder then, that my dedication to the business had become a sick obsession that occasionally brought me to tears. Eventually though, I found my stride, and around year five things began to change. Before I knew it, I had morphed into a creature who could sit in silence for 16 hours a day—although unlike a monk,…