When I started my branding studio, Colin Is My Name, I was still a newbie to Los Angeles. I had lived there for a year, but in that time I had worked a 9-to-7 job, and most of the people I knew through work had become off-limits to me professionally due to a noncompete agreement I had signed when I took the job. It was an uncomfortable moment when I woke up to my alarm on my first day of freedom, only to realize I had no idea where I was going to find clients in a city that I hadn't yet explored. To make matters worse, I had about a month's worth of rent money in the bank, leaving me clientless and broke in a city full of people I didn't know and who—as far as I could tell—didn't want to know me.

After putting in my two-week notice at my prior job, I started building the platform from which I was planning to launch a stellar branding career, starting with my own brand. I built a snazzy website. I had some beautiful (and expensive) business cards letter-pressed. I updated my LinkedIn profile and took some new photos.

But even with all the garnish in place, I was still missing a main course, and I wouldn't have the full plate I wanted until I snagged myself some clients. I couldn't understand why all of my tweeting and Craigslist-posting was bringing in nothing but dregs—armchair businesspeople wanting to pay $25 for a logo and crafty marketers hoping to trick young designers into doing free work for them in exchange for a glowing recommendation.

I was underwhelmed and overwrought—not to mention broke and dejected—so I did what anyone would do in my place: I went out for a drink.

Now, understand that getting a drink in L.A. isn't the cheapest activity in the world, so this was a big investment. I had been nearly starving myself for a few weeks, trying to save my pennies and wait out the clock until that golden moment when the social-media seeds I had planted would bloom and bear fruit, but I had reached the point where my nerves were frayed and my back was aching from all the time I was clocking in front of my computer.

So I took my girlfriend out to a little wine bar down the street. I could only afford one glass each, but it was more about having an excuse to get dressed up and go out than drinking. We nursed our Malbecs and enjoyed the ambiance before picking up our jackets and heading toward the door.

On the way out, my girlfriend was stopped by a friend who was sitting in a small cluster of people. While she hugged and caught up with her friend, I chatted with the other members of the group. As usual in Los Angeles, one of the first things people wanted to know is what I did for a living.

The question came from a woman looking to upgrade her jazz label’s brand, and she had been having a terrible time trying to find someone who she could rely on. When she saw my card, she was sold. She gave me her number and asked me to call her in the morning. With that, I had my first client.

Then, a remarkable thing happened: The more I went out—to wine bars, gallery openings, theatrical premiers—the longer my client list grew.

I realized that, although I had talent and a well-developed platform through which to show my work and capabilities, I hadn't been getting that information in front of the right people. It was as if I had constructed a five-star hotel and decided to advertise exclusively in the penny-saver classifieds: My product was good, but I wasn't looking for my audience in the right place.

I decided to make socializing and networking in person a huge part of my business model, and it has been paying off. Approximately 80 percent of my new clients came to me through in-person chats at social events, not through social media as I had anticipated. I shot from zero clients to dozens within four months. I also enjoyed my lifestyle a whole lot more after I realized that I could reshape it into something more appealing to me while increasing my revenue as a result.

If you aren't meeting the right kinds of customers or clients, try fishing further upstream, in another river, or hunting quail instead. There's no shame in changing course, and you may find that a very small change can pay very large dividends—for your business and your lifestyle.

The Young Entrepreneur Council (YEC) is an invite-only nonprofit organization comprised of the country's most promising young entrepreneurs. The YEC promotes entrepreneurship as a solution to youth unemployment and underemployment and provides its members with access to tools, mentorship, and resources that support each stage of a business's development and growth.