Maple syrup and marzipan...or, life in the sweet lane
What, you think I'm going to complain about life?? As long as we're not talking politics, I'm golden. I just need a hand up, if you know what I mean.
If you were raised like me, you were taught early on that lying was a bad thing and usually came with terrible consequences. Liars were not good people; they couldn’t be trusted…and you didn’t want to be one of those people, did you?
No, of course, I didn’t. I wasn’t going to enter politics or anything, so honesty and integrity were important to me. Perhaps it was the way I was raised. Or maybe it was having had the importance of honor drilled into me when I was an Army Reserve officer. Or it could have been that I liked knowing that people trusted me. Most likely, it was a combination of all of the above.
So, when I started blogging on September 3, 2001, I promised myself that I’d be honest with myself and with whatever audience I could develop. Whatever I wrote, I wanted to be honest. I wanted to feel good about what I was doing, and I wanted to know that it was true and accurate. I wanted people to know that when they read my work, it was as factual and real as I could make it.
That was, of course, unless I specified that it was satirical, which I’ve been known to do on occasion. Yes, I’ve skewered a few folks in my time.
In the 22+ years I’ve been doing this, I’ve cleared maybe somewhere just north of $1000. At some point, I’d hoped that perhaps I might be able to make some money, and then the blog advertising market collapsed in the mid-2000s. So, the dream went the way of the buffalo and I never really lost much sleep over it. I never expected to make a lot of money, so I resigned myself to regaining my amateur status.
Yes, it was back to doing it for the exposure….
I’m not good at self-promotion, nor at attracting attention, so I’ve toiled away in relative obscurity here in my dark corner of da Interwebz. I like it here; all the voices know my name. I’m trying to grow this site on Substack, but it’s been a slow process, so this is where I come to you, hat in hand, humbly asking for your kind assistance.
Money would be nice, and if you’re inclined to throw some my way, I’ll never say no. Even more than that, though, I want to grow my subscriber base, which, after three years on Substack, is still much smaller than I expected at this point. With that in mind, I need help getting the word out.
I can’t afford to hire an airplane with a banner or a woman to run naked through Times Square screaming my URL, so perhaps I could ask my faithful readers to do what feels comfortable? Tell your friends. Scream my URL over a bullhorn at church or perhaps a funeral. Maybe stop traffic during rush hour with a placard with North Stars & Cowboy Bars and the site’s URL on it. Or perhaps hang a banner on an overpass over a busy freeway.
I’m just spitballing ideas, but you could be creative if the spirit moves you. Or you could just tell your friends or send links of my work to people you think might enjoy it (or Trump supporters it might piss off; either one works).
Before I moved my blog to Substack, I developed a reputation for having the occasional existential crisis. Every now and again, I’d get caught up in wondering if my writing mattered, if I was having any sort of impact, if anyone was paying attention, that sort of thing.
I still wonder about that, but I write for myself first and foremost, and so I write, post it, and it goes out into the void, where it takes on a life I no longer have control over. The fact that people read my work still astounds and flatters me. I’m truly grateful that ANYONE believes that what I have to say is worth reading, and I would never take that for granted. I used to go through my referral logs and marvel at where my readers were coming from- literally from all over the world.
How is that even possible? Here I am, sitting in front of a laptop in my basement office in Portland, Oregon, and someone in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, or Tallinn, Estonia is reading my writing. Yeah, that’s pretty fucking amazing. Things like that remind me how small this world can be and how even seemingly small things can make an impact.
I still wonder sometimes if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m doing it right, what I could be doing better, and/or if anyone actually gives a shit. I suppose the answers are maybe, maybe, probably, and at least a few folks. Regardless, I’ll keep writing, but I could use some help getting the word out.
I don’t need to be bigger than Steven King, but it would be nice to reach a bigger audience. I’m working harder on trying to grow it, but I figure it couldn’t hurt to ask for help, right?
If any of y’all know a site looking for a contributor, I’m open to that. I don’t want to close off any potential opportunities; I just want to figure out how I can reach as many people as possible. If that turns out to be what you could fit into a bowling alley in Paducah, KY, that’s what I’ll work with. Delusions of grandeur aren’t my thing…I like to dream big, but I’ll live with what the universe has in store for me.
I grew up dreaming of being an NBA point guard. In college, my dream was to play goalkeeper professionally in Europe. The problem, sadly, was that I was far more legendary in my mind than I was in reality. I also had to face the fact that physical skills fade as you approach and pass 30…and then what?
Once I discovered I could write gooder than most mortals, I realized I had a gift that, if I worked to develop it, would only improve with time. And that’s precisely what’s happened. Of course, as with any creative pursuit in this world, talent and skill alone will get you precisely nowhere. And I still have a ways to go to perfect my craft.
People love work produced by creative types…they just don’t want to pay for it. (How many Substacks do you read for free? Precisely. I’m guilty of it myself.) That’s not me bitching and moaning; that’s just the current state of affairs. Writing is a great way to starve. Our society loves art and creativity; it just doesn’t support it.
I’m not whining about anything, but those are the facts as I’ve experienced them. If you get into writing to become rich and famous…well, good luck with that, Kimosabe. You’ll starve LONG before you sign a book deal.
Art and creativity are historically not commercially viable without a patron, and since this isn’t the Renaissance, finding a patron is tough these days. This is why I like the Substack model so much. Good writers with interesting things to say can end up with many patrons, or a few, depending on how well they’re able to create awareness of their work.
Me? I suck at attracting attention, mostly because I never want to be at the center of anything. I’m still learning how to attract eyeballs, but it doesn’t come naturally…and so I’m going to try to get by with a little help from my friends.
Can you help a brother out?? ;-)
All of my posts are public at this time. Any reader financial support will be greatly appreciated. There’s no paywall blocking access to my work (except for a few newsletters), but that remains an option down the road. I’ll trust my readers to determine if my work is worthy of their financial support and at what level. To those who do offer their support, thank you. It means more than you know.