Contracts.

Most people start by reading the contract.

I don’t.

I’m trying to understand the relationship before I worry about the language.

Who does this agreement favor?

Is it balanced?

If it isn’t, why?

Sometimes it’s because someone’s using a generic template. Sometimes it’s because a lawyer started with their strongest possible position knowing there would be a negotiation. Sometimes the business realities actually justify one side carrying more risk than the other.

The overall balance and tone tell me most of what I need to know.

The next question is about you.

How important is this deal?

More specifically, how much are you willing to give up to make it happen?

That answer changes everything.

Some clients would rather walk away than accept certain risks.

For others, the opportunity matters enough that they’re prepared to compromise.

But before I start negotiating a contract, I need to understand what success actually looks like for you.

My job isn’t to eliminate risk. That’s impossible. Every business decision carries some.

My job is to make sure every meaningful risk is a conscious choice and that nothing important catches you by surprise.

Sometimes there isn’t a contract yet.

You’re bringing on a business partner. Hiring a key employee. Working with a consultant. Licensing your intellectual property.

Those conversations are different because everyone is still working toward the same goal.

The hard conversations are easier when they’re still hypothetical than when they’re happening.

I’m not asking whether every clause is perfect.

I’m asking what happens if this relationship stops working six months from now.

How do you get out?

If the other side doesn’t perform, what can you actually do about it?

If something goes wrong, who pays?

What obligations continue after the deal is over?

Who owns what you’ve created together?

Those questions rarely feel urgent when everyone is excited about doing business. But they’re often the most important ones once the excitement is gone.

People naturally focus on the deal itself.

How much they’re getting paid.

What they’re buying.

When the work starts.

Those just aren’t usually the terms that keep me up at night.

I’m paying closer attention to the provisions that only become important when something unexpected happens.

Termination.

Remedies.

Indemnification.

Intellectual property.

Unlimited obligations that continue long after the relationship should have ended.

One-sided rights that only become visible once someone tries to exercise them.

Those provisions shape the future of the relationship.

Once we’ve worked through the agreement, we usually have a pretty good sense of what our ideal contract looks like.

That’s where we start.

Then we decide, deliberately, where we’re willing to compromise if we need to.

Some provisions become non-negotiable because the consequences of getting them wrong are too significant.

Some provisions deserve a hard conversation.

Others just deserve context.

We’re not going to win every revision.

We don’t need to.

By the time the contract is signed, you will know exactly which risks you’re accepting, why you’re accepting them, and what they could mean if the relationship doesn’t unfold the way everyone hopes it will.