Making things is what I do. In elementary school and then at retail jobs, I shaped paperclips and trash into sculptures and figurines, almost unconscious of the action. I doodle. I scratch. I shape. I make. It never stops, only changes form from time to time. Everything is storytelling though.
When I step back to breathe for a moment, I wonder if the 2nd half of a work’s lifecycle needs to slow down. That is the sharing of it. I am at the top of my game creatively and I want to keep my focus there, but inevitably, I’ll click those metrics and be confronted with the flatlined sales.
But don’t we all ultimately make art and writing for ourselves? Isn’t the process enough? I might compulsively create, but I don’t have to share. As I try to accept the reality of the economy and of my own niche work, I feel wind falling out of my sail. It hurts. It makes me question my vision and quality. There’s no place to vent about it without being perceived as an ingrate because, yes, a friend bought some $1 stickers once. I AM grateful for every sale and every “like” on social media, but it is not nearly enough.
I’ve received too much advice on SEO, expanding reach, building a platform, and blah blah marketing. I get it. I make mistakes and I’m lazy about it, but there are two problems that I can not solve.
- I don’t have the time or money to invest in marketing at the scale required to make any meaningful ROI.
- I don’t create much market friendly work. I just don’t.
I don’t mean to whinge about here. This newsletter is an attempt at more disclosure. More vulnerability. Perhaps I’m trying to show you my inner workings a bit. You’re my friends and I do want you to know me though I hide myself away all the time.
I miss getting together with you for coffee and talk. This feels so one sided. What is going on for you?