Category: Author platform

What was, is. But is not as it was.

I think a lot about the past. About what came before.

What is left.

What holds on.

What we can hold in our hands, still, after decades. And what we cannot.

About what these things represent. And that which is gone, which still lives in our minds and actions.

As I work with writers, I am reminded. That your platform is what exists in people’s minds. Not just in the manifestations of what you create: a twitter feed; a blog; or even (dare I say) a book.

When you strip a person of everything they own. Everything they are. Everyone they know. Everywhere that is comfortable. What is left is what is in their mind/heart/soul, and what they choose to do with it. (hat tip: Victor Frankl)

For some reason, we tend to seek immediate popularity. Validation. Recognition. And sure, that is interesting. Merely interesting.

But what lasts is what is intriguing to me. What lives beyond us after we leave a room; after someone puts down your book; after they no longer follow you on Twitter.

What ideas. Inspiration. Information. Character. Which of these stays with them. Morphs. Changes. Effects their actions in small ways, even years later. Decades later. And how do their actions and attitudes affect those around them. From generation to generation.

Your legacy. At once hidden in tiny actions. But profound in how it has shaped people’s lives.

What you are is not what I see. It is what lies below the surface.

I have been obsessed with old Hollywood. How it started. Who started it. Do you remember the Keystone Cops? Charlie Chaplin’s character “the tramp?” These were some of the most popular comedy brands of the silent era of film.

They were groomed into being by a man you have likely never heard of: Mack Sennett. He had a very successful film studio in the silent era called Keystone Studios.

Do you know what now stands on the ground where those things were created? A fast food restaurant.

And 100 feet behind it was Hollywood’s first indoor sound stage – the very first place designed for shooting films with sound. That building is now a self-storage facility. All of these things were a part of Mack’s Keystone Studios.

This is what you see driving down Glendale Boulevard today: the Jack in the Box is where the open air stages used to be, where Charlie Chaplin made his first films as The Tramp, and Keystone Cops were filmed; the large building in the background was the first indoor sound stage:

Here is another look:

And that same photo overlayed with Keystone Studios as it looked in the early 20th century. The structures in the foreground were open air stages where things were filmed before sound:

Driving by these places today, you would never know. Because their legacy is not represented in that place. It is elsewhere, moved on from where it was created. In a way, that is shame. But that is how time works.

What will your legacy look like, decades from now? A century from now? If you think it will be a physical book or something else that can be held, you are likely mistaken. If you think it may be a place with a plaque with your name on it, you may be surprised to learn that it becomes a fast food restaurant.

The effect of your work is often a little below the surface. People who love your books or whatever else you create will rarely send you a message telling you. Instead, your legacy is forged in silence, often unknown to you, the creator. You inspire someone in a small way, help shape their worldview, and down the road, these things affect an action they take.

Even if you have a physical book in a store, an artifact, this thing is not your legacy. It is a delivery mechanism for the potential of your legacy. People may not honor the artifact, just as the birthplace of one of movie’s most beloved characters is now where you can pickup a burger and fries via drive thru.

But I do get sentimental about artifacts. They are reminders of what came before. They aid in discovery of what was. And I can’t help but imagine how they helped breathe life into what will be.

So what became of Mack Sennet? You can read about him on Wikipedia. But mostly, for generations to come, people will experience his work, but never know his name.

Here are the Keystone Cops:

The first film Chaplin appears in as The Tramp:

Thanks.
-Dan

Images courtesy of Jerre Smith.

Do you sometimes feel scared to write? To create something – anything?! Are you sometimes a bit terrified to engage with others on social media, or even at an in-person event? Do you find yourself wanting to hide away, not sharing, not connecting, and certain not promoting anything? You are not alone.

Let’s talk about fear. Terror. Panic… and the creative process. That feeling when you – the writer – stare at the blank page with a big hole in the gut of your stomach.

We don’t talk about this very often, fear. Even the depression that comes and sinks in and grabs hold for days, weeks or months.

I want to share an interesting video that was posted to YouTube by a vlogger named Charlie. He has more than 1.5 MILLION subscribers to his YouTube channel, and this is what he posted:

Now, what is especially interesting about the video is the response to it. How it started a conversation about how this type of fear is not unusual at all, it is hidden just below the surface for many people. His video has not only received 700,000 views so far, but 38,000 comments and nearly 400 video responses. And so many of them say this: “I’m scared too.”

Just look at these faces, all talking openly to the world about fear and the creative process:

One response offers a deep look into what a creator can go through:

His advice: “get small.” Focus on creating something for just one person, not for 100 or 100,000 or 1.5 million.

This reminds me of a website I became aware of recently: HumansOfNewYork.com
What it shares is simple: a photo of people on the streets of New York, and a short quote from that person.

Something about these photos is so simple – focusing on just one person – and yet so huge. And what is more amazing is how a community has formed around this set. They recently launched a relief effort for victims of Hurricane Sandy, and have raised more than $180,000 so far.

Here is a great video about Humans of New York:

The photographer behind the site explains some of his motivation as this: “I’m always very sensitive to whether or not I am getting jaded.” His solution: when he notices something incredible on the street and takes a photo of it, he knows he still has the capacity for being open.

Where do you find fear in the creative process? And more importantly: where do you find hope?
Thanks.
-Dan

I have been obsessed with this photo taken in 1939 in Gordonton, NC.:

What are these people laughing about, discussing, worrying about? What were they doing 2 hours after this photo was taken? Over 70 years later, what is left of this scene? Well, I’ll show you. Watch this 11 second video:

This is a photo taken in 2010. What is missing? Everything.

Sure, some things remain: the exact stones that precariously support the porch are there doing their job for more than 7 decades, as are the rough hewn posts:

I work with writers, and my particular focus is on developing a long-term writing career. Sure, I focus on marketing tactics that people can use today, and on book launches, social media, audience growth, etc. But what will people remember of your writing 70 years from now?

People talk about an author platform in funny ways. They talk about blogs. And Twitter. And marketing funnels. And email lists. They talk about 99 cent ebooks. And Goodreads.

And while these things are elements that support the platform, they are not the platform itself, just as this porch is not the meaning within the photo. The effect you have on others is the platform. The meaning and purpose behind your work is the platform. The information you share that reshapes someone’s understanding is the platform. The story that inspires and opens new doors – that is the platform.

This empty porch, this is not a platform, just as a well-designed website is not a platform:

The platform is the moment of connection that you can hardly put your finger on, and lasts in our memories, unconscious and worldview long after we experience it:

How does your work affect the world? Not because it was on some best seller list; not because you have 20,000 Twitter followers; not because your blog post got 50 comments; not because your book trailer went viral.

What is the legacy of your work 70 years from now? What is the deeper meaning that you can’t capture in a photograph?

What lasts?

What remains through relationships, through the impact you have in sharing ideas, information, or stories?

Thanks.
-Dan

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Photo credits:
1939 photo: 4×5 nitrate negative by Dorothea Lange for the Farm Security Administration. Image now a part of Shorpy.com.
2010 photo: Taken by Cole Rodgers.

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I am so excited to announce the guest experts who will be a part of the next session of my online course: Build Your Author Platform.

This 6-week course runs from October 31st through December 18th, where we work together to establish and engage an audience for your writing. But what’s more, is that you get to chat with leading experts in book publishing, marketing, and publicity.

Here is the incredible lineup of guest experts for this session of the course:

These folks have a wealth of information to share for writers of all types.

For more information on the 6-week Build Your Author Platform course, click here.

Thank you so much to Jane, Joanna, Jeff, Colleen, and Kathleen for your continued generosity to writers!
-Dan