The Sovereign Solopreneur

Why Staying Small Is a Power Move (Not a Limitation)

The Sovereign Solopreneur

Why Staying Small Is a Power Move (Not a Limitation)

When I was a child, I thought success meant heading off to work in a suit. A briefcase. A tie. Shined shoes. An expensive car pulling out of the driveway before breakfast. The image was so clear in my mind you’d think I had seen it every day — but I hadn’t. My dad owned only one suit, for formal occasions. He wore jeans, work boots, and a tool belt. He was an electrician — a one-man shop, a solo practice.

And I remember thinking: If only he had a few employees… maybe then we’d live up the hill like my friend’s family. Their dad was also an electrician, but he ran a team — trucks, gear, uniforms, the whole operation. They had the bigger house, the view, and the newer car. In my child’s mind, it seemed so simple: bigger must be better.

My mother ran her own operation, too. A hair stylist who worked for herself. No salon with a staff of ten. No drive to expand, but a need to survive by doing something that she enjoyed. Now 80, she still shows up, quietly content, helping people look their best.

And here I am — third generation — repeating a pattern it took me a long time to understand. I’m what some call a Renaissance soul with a variety of interests and passions. My interests span making and creating to strategic analysis and planning— a diverse background. But always a business of one.

For years, I thought this was a failure of focus—a lack of determination. Whatever the business books call the secret ingredient to “real” success, I believed I lacked that attribute. I thought I just needed to scale. But I resisted this. I wondered what was wrong with me. Why wasn’t I interested in growing a business? Why did I keep pursuing things that increased my learning and fed my interests instead of staying focused on developing the business? Why was I moving away from more clients and toward just enough?

But now I know better.

The Myth of Scale

Michael Gerber’s E-Myth Revisited insists that if you are both the worker and the owner, you haven’t built a real business — you’ve simply hired yourself. In his world, a successful business runs without you — systems, employees, structure replacing your hands, your mind, your presence.

There is nothing wrong with that if your brain is wired for management, coordination, and leading groups. There is truth there for many people.

But for the introvert, the deep thinker, the neurodivergent mind that thrives in focus, rhythm, and autonomy, Gerber’s model can feel less like liberation and more like exile. Because to scale in the way he suggests, you must become a manager. And some of us were not born to manage — we were born to make. To think. To synthesize. To distill. To create.

Managing people isn’t freedom.
It’s friction.

The further we get from the work itself, the further we get from the part of ourselves that is awake.

Gerber writes, “Your business is nothing more than a distinct reflection of who you are.” He means it as a warning. If you are disorganized, your business will be chaotic. If you are sloppy, your business will be a mess.

But what if we are internal thinkers, not collaborators?
What if deep thinking and solitude are what drive a cognitive revolution every day?
What if the business is me, the introverted, quiet thinker?

How do we work with that as the baseline?

By honoring the inherent drive to grow internally — to become more grounded, more capable, more whole than the version of ourselves from the day before.

Instead of using the “why” to rally the organization, we use it to stay true to ourselves. Our reason for doing the work must support two things at once: our internal compass and our contribution to others—a dual allegiance — self and service.

This is the shape of our nervous systems.
This is how we stay alive in our work.
This is how we stay ourselves.

This path is not about avoiding growth.
It’s about choosing the type of growth that expands your life rather than consumes it.

Spacious mornings.
Steady afternoons.
A reasonable heart rate.
The ability to think your own thoughts.

In this model, “success” is measured in clarity, not scale.
In depth, not speed.
In presence, not productivity.

The question becomes: Why fix your nature to meet the demands of business culture when you can build a business that matches your nature?

The sovereign solopreneur chooses alignment over expansion.
Not because they are afraid of success —
But because they refuse to trade their nervous system to get it.

The Hidden Costs of Growth

I once worked for a company with over two million in annual revenue and a payroll register that was quickly approaching 30 employees. Every payroll was a struggle. From the outside, they appeared “successful.” In reality, they were living off debt and hope — just like the many overextended individuals and families our financial systems quietly deplete.

The truth no one likes to print in business books is this:

Many businesses would be more profitable if they were smaller.

Less overhead.
Less complexity.
Fewer moving parts.

This is because there would be:
More focus.
More depth of service.
More of you in the work.

But our culture worships scale like it worships materialism — loudly and without examination. We set our sights on wildly ambitious goals, ready to trade our peace of mind for what we think will make us happy.

The aspirational target has shifted dramatically. We are sold a fantasy of reaching the financial level of wealth that 1% of Americans have achieved. They control about 30-31% of the nation’s wealth. We believe that this American dream is not only within reach but also desirable—the island paradise, Yachts sailing around the world, the lavish retreats. We work endless hours and days so that one day the business will run itself. This is a draining process of endurance, persistence, and discipline—especially when it runs counter to your nature. This is the hustle, both figuratively and literally.

But for those of us whose craft is our mind, the moment we step away from the work, the work stops being ours.

The Sovereign Choice

If your compass points toward sovereignty —
If your body relaxes at the thought of quiet mornings, a slow cup of Earl Grey, deep work, and uninterrupted focus —
If you crave autonomy more than applause —

Then staying small is not failure.
It is wisdom.

It is how you keep your life on purpose.

This is the solopreneurship of the outlier.
The thinker.
The walker.
The one who had to learn to live from the inside outward.

There is another way to succeed.
It is quieter.
Less visible.
But infinitely more alive.

You can build a business that is a well-designed life, not a machine you get trapped inside.

You can stay small.
You can stay sovereign.
You can stay close to the work you love.

And maybe the measure of success was never about going “up the hill” at all — but staying close to where our lives actually feel authentic, safe, and within our realm of control.

Journal Invitation

Where does my work feel most like me, and what would it look like to build my business around that?

Further Reading

• Company of One by Paul Jarvis

• Deep Work by Cal Newport

• Quiet by Susan Cain