It's hard to believe that it's been 20 years since I sat on the bed in my rented apartment, my hand shaking as I thumbed through my Rolodex, trying to decide who to call first. 

I had just left the ad agency where I worked for a little less than a year, deciding to trek out on my own to open an event planning company.  After a client had hired the ad agency to do their grand opening, I decided that event production might be a fledgling industry that Charlotte would embrace.
 
I was 24 with no business experience or education, having opted for art history over accounting at Wake Forest.  I had landed in Charlotte after a few years of doing research for a museum in Winston-Salem, knowing only a couple of people here my age.  No wealthy contacts, no family connections.
 
I got to the "G"s and saw a friendly name.  Jim Grainger, the vendor who supplied our specialty items at the agency.  I dialed the number and Jim answered.  "I've gone out on my own.  I'm opening up an event company."  I could barely find my voice, it was trembling so terribly.
 
Jim said all the appropriate things and encouraged me, said I was making a good move.  "But wait a little while before you talk to anyone else.  You sound too nervous-I barely recognized your voice."
 
I'm not sure who I called next; probably a few more friendly vendors.  I couldn't have called any clients; I didn't have any.  But as I dialed the numbers in the card file, every call got a bit easier, every conversation more self-assured.  By nature or nurture, I'm prone to shyness.  Many of you might argue that point, but it's the truth.  For me, it's more natural to retreat than confront, to cry in frustration than to shout out in righteous indignation.
 
So, a lot about starting this business had to do with finding my voice.  At first, in a literal sense, by practicing my phone calls often enough to clear my throat of fear and self-doubt.  Later, by being confident enough in my decisions and values to convince my clients that they should follow my advice.

Back in the mid-80's, that meant convincing my clients at Royal Insurance that their grand opening should feature this chic new food item called sushi.  Lately, it's meant things like convincing some CEOs that they should re-examine the way they do business in the world.

I'm not always right.  And I'm not always sure. (Those synchronized swimmers weren't the big hit I thought they'd be.)  But in the 20 years that I've been in business, I've found the importance of at least one thing: finding my voice.
 
So it's appropriate that one way I've decided to celebrate our 20th anniversary is to share my thoughts with you in a monthly letter.  The subject will vary; I may write about events we are planning, my incredible staff, current Charlotte happenings, or behind-the-scenes details from past events, like when Warren Buffett pretended to give me his wallet or Maya Angelou made me cry. 
 
Whatever I write about, I hope I'll share with you a little piece of Tribble Creative Group, from the past or the present.  And I hope you'll enjoy it.
 

The first event I planned while at the ad agency was the grand opening of an architectural firm called Clark Tribble Harris & Li. Mike Tribble was no relation, but I unabashedly threw my name around when I cold-called him. He referred me to his marketing director, whom I later married.