“I only have 60 followers”

It’s really difficult to build an audience for your work, right?

Often, I hear people bemoan how things were better in “the good old days.” When we didn’t have social media, when there wasn’t so much distraction. They felt that back before the internet, they could more easily get their book read, have their music heard, or build an audience for their art.

I disagree.

I think it was painfully difficult to find an audience before the internet. At least, it was for me. So today, I want to look at how pathetically I failed at finding an audience for my creative work in the 1990s.

And here is the crux. So many people will say things to me like “I only have 60 followers on Twitter,” bemoaning what feels like failure to attract an audience.

Well, in the 1990s, I dreamed of having 60 followers.

60 people to show up to an event.
60 people who cared about my art.
60 people who would share my music.

Maybe your experience was different before the internet. I would LOVE for you to share it. But first… here are my awkward art years. In the 1990s, I ran a music fanzine, had a band, did a lot of art, and managed a bookstore cafe that hosted live performances.

Let’s dig in….

My 1990s Music Zine

A zine (or fanzine) is a mostly handmade magazine created by a fan. In the 1990s I had a music zine that focused on mostly British pop and space rock.

This is me laying out an issue on my bed:
160415ofa

A friend and I published around a dozen issues, filled with original interviews and reviews. We published it ourselves, spending late nights at Kinkos, and hefty printing fees at a time when I earned minimum wage.

Publishing this zine left me thousands of dollars in debt when I was still in college.

We had a single advertiser. Our distribution consisted of hand delivering it to local music shops, and occasionally in NYC.

By any measure today, this zine would be an unbelievable failure. The audience was mostly the reviewers we roped in to write for us, and the guy behind the counter at the record shop as we tried to convince them to leave a stack by the door.

The funny thing about all of this? The record labels loved us. They sent us loads of free CDs and tapes, gave us free concert tickets, and I was able to interview all of my favorite bands. I was able to chat with Blur, Oasis, They Might Be Giants, and many others, all at the height of their success.

I had total access. Why? Because it was impossibly difficult for the record labels to promote these bands. Seeing a couple of guys from New Jersey spend so much time putting together a zine was enough indication that they should treat us really well.

Even though we had pretty much NO audience.

At the time, the idea of having 60 dedicated subscribers was a dream.

My 1990s Band

For years and years I was in a band and spent long nights constructing songs on my 4-track recorder. Here is the corner of my bedroom in the 1990s with my recording setup:
160415music

During the years my band and I made music, we never played a single live performance in front of real live people. We never released a single song.

Instead, we tried to figure out how to make music, enjoyed the nature of hanging out and exploring.

Did we dream of going further? YES. But in the 1990s, it seemed impossibly difficult to release music — a huge financial expense. To play a show required us to convince some kind of bar or performance space to take a huge risk on us — having zero fans or followers.

To have 60 people we could release songs to on Soundcloud? That would have been a dream for us back in the 1990s. And maybe the kind of validation that would have propelled us forward to be more public.

My 1990s Art

When I was a kid, I was the “artist” in my family and in school. My brother always had me draw the covers to his book reports, and I was allowed into special art programs at school.

In the 1990s, my life was filled with art project after art project. I did illustrations, paintings, pop-up books, sculpture, photography and so much else.

Here is one of those projects in progress during the mid ’90s:
160415art

The markers in this photo cost me hundreds of dollars — purchased on excursions to Pearl Paint on Canal Street in NYC.

Whenever anyone talked to me or visited, I likely told them about one of these projects. I remember having a grand plan to do oversize sculptures akin to those by Claes Oldenburg, one of my favorite artists.

My dreams were always bigger than my reality. I made art late into the night, while juggling three part-time jobs, most paying minimum wage, or close to it.

To get my work in front of an audience required skills I didn’t seem to have, and resources of energy and money that eluded me.

Sure, I would visit The Center for Book Arts in Manhattan, or the Printed Matter bookstore, but I was mostly a tourist. I spent weeks preparing a book that was submitted to Printed Matter, only to have it rejected. I moved on to another project after that, then another, then another.

Back then, it would have been amazing to open a shop on Etsy for my art; or to post images of my works in progress on Instagram. Having had 60 people validate this work would have made a huge difference to stop dabbling, and really try to share this work in a bigger way.

Managing a Cafe & Event Space in the 1990s

In the 1990s I was also the manager of a local bookstore cafe that hosted performances.

Week after week, I watched people share their poems, share their art, share their music. Sure, some nights were grand — people flowing out the door. But many were a mixed bag, including nights of nothing but crickets as a response to someone’s song. Polite applause from the barista.

This was the storefront:
160415cafe

This is one corner of the world, one that had a limited advertising budget as well. Actually, I can’t even recall if there was an advertising budget beyond posting a flyer on the bulletin board listing the events for the month.

To have had an email list of 60 subscribers, or been able to connect with our customers on Facebook would have been wildly more effective than what we were capable of at the time.

The Attic

Where does most of this art and music now reside? In cardboard boxes in my attic. Remember that final scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark? That sums up the way my creative work from the 1990s reached an audience:
raiders-of-the-lost-ark-matte-painting

Did I gain valuable and enjoyable experience creating all of this work? Of course. The journey is the destination — I understand that.

But still, I would have loved to have had 60 followers for this work. To look out onto an audience of 60 people who cared. To have had 60 people waiting for my next painting.

If you have 60 followers, treat them like the most special people in the world.

Thank you.
-Dan

I’m helping to organize a festival for storytellers

I’m part of a team that is putting together a local festival about storytelling. Today, I want to show you what that looks like behind the scenes: both the unbridled excitement, and the terror around expectations.

This is a brand new event — something that started with one conversation, and then kept growing momentum little by little as others were pulled in to the mix.

That is a fun narrative, right? The other side of that story though is basically the thought in the back of my mind: “Let’s not mess this up.”

Because we are at the point where people are counting on us, investing in us, and believing in us.

Which is amazing, right?! Like, the best thing ever.

And I suppose I just want to do right by those folks. Okay, let’s dig in:

Collaboration is everything

The event is called the Madison Storytellers Festival, a one day event on June 11 in Madison, New Jersey.

The seed of this event began — as far as I remember — with a conversation between my friends Barb Short and Dan Cafaro. Barb runs the indie bookstore in town, and Dan runs a small indie press in town.

Now, the thing to realize here is that Barb is a force of nature. She has a full time job as an executive working with CEOs, owns the bookstore, raises two kids, and in her spare time, commits to things like birthing this festival. She is involved in many local organizations, and probably about 1,000 other things I don’t even know about.

The next thing that Barb and Dan C. did was to seek feedback from a small group of local folks who were in the arts. This was that meeting:

Madison Storytellers Festival

The folks pictured are, left to right:

One person not in the photo is Melanie Tomaszewski, who runs two businesses in town: Madison Mud Clay Studio and Tivoli Creative Design Studio. Mel is amazing — she seems to know everyone and is the catalyst for helping so many creative folks in town.

We have also been chatting with the good folks at The Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey, about ensuring they are involved.

Now, I want to make a big point here, it’s a bit of a digression, so I will italicize this: I see so many people talk about “reaching influencers” online. Like, there are thousands of people vying for the attention of the same bloggers, hoping for a retweet.

The folks in this photo are all from the town I live in. They are AMAZING, doing important work for creative folks, for the community, and are clearly “influential.”

Why do I say this? Because folks like this exist where you live. Instead of being the millionth person to reach out to some “online influencer” who received 1,000 pitches per day, why not tap into the amazing people right around you?

Okay, end of digression

The next thing that happened: the folks in the photo started talking to others; Groups that support the arts in our community, including:

Now, let me just say: this is HUGE. These groups — day in and day out for decades — have supported the community in this town. Sure, there are amazing highlights, but they also shoulder the grunt work that is often unseen or forgotten about.

For us to come in with our idea for a Festival, it REQUIRES us to honor the work that these (and other) organizations have created in town.

The icing on the cake: these organizations have been wonderfully open and supportive of the festival!

Be open to change

As I mentioned, this event started with a conversation between Dan and Barb. They discussed a literary festival, and a program that exclusively features local indie presses.

At the group meeting in the photo above, we expanded the goal of the event to include all of the arts — broadly defining ‘storytellers’ as the key term.

I could feel in that discussion that Dan’s original idea was morphing quickly, focusing less and less on indie presses. What was incredible to see was how the evolution was natural. Dan went with it, and the idea kept evolving. No one clung to a single idea, or bristled at as the creative process unfolded.

That moment may seem insignificant, but it’s not. That is what makes great collaboration, and that type of thing isn’t easy.

The basics matter

Lots of lofty ideas have been floated around about what this Festival will be. But one thing that is critical: the basics. Getting space in town, having tables, designing materials, and all of the elements of what it means to invite the public to an event.

I’m already thinking about first aid kits, how to guide people, lost and found, and how to support the local police, fire, and first aid squads to ensure they can do their jobs if needed.

What is the communication plan on the day of the event, in the 24 hours prior? What is the clean up plan? Where is accessible parking?

And perhaps most importantly: where are the public bathrooms and the accompanying signage to let people know?

This is where details can make or break an event. The earlier you begin losing sleep over them, the better. (Kidding. Okay, not really)

What excites me and what terrifies me

What excites me about the event is living up to our mission:

Storytelling is the expression of who we are, who we were, and who we hope to be. It encompasses both experience and identity, and is what brings us together as a culture.

It is critical that each of us is empowered to tell our stories — to express our vision of who we as individuals, and how we fit together as a whole.

The Madison Storytellers Festival celebrates the storytellers in our community, and empowers everyone to find new inspiration and skills to tell their own stories.

If we can pull this off with a great range of speakers and hands on workshops, that would be a-maz-ing. I love the idea of helping people of all ages better tell the stories they see in their lives.

What terrifies me? Not living up to that goal. To not do right by the folks who attend, by the speakers, by the collaborators, and by all of the wonderful folks who support this effort.

I think about it this way: if a police officer has to spend part of their day helping direct traffic because of our event, I want it to be for a good reason. I want to justify it by knowing that a child was inspired to delve into the arts; or that an 80 year old found practical ways to share her story.

That is basically my measure of success for this event.

Oh, the other terrifying part? We are two months from the event and have SO MUCH TO DO. One thing that is missing from this page — any description of the programming — the actual things you would come to this event for.

Working on it… more soon!

Oh, and if you are in the New York metro area and want to get involved, please let me know! Two things in particular we are looking for:

  • If you know if any amazing speakers who fit the bill — especially if her name is Elizabeth Gilbert — please let me know!
  • If you are local and want to volunteer to help out.

(Oh, and of course, if you want to sponsor the event, we would love to chat.)

I’ll share more updates as this comes together. In the meantime, let me know about your own experiences supporting the arts in your local community.

Thanks!
-Dan

Why we create

Today, I want to talk about why we create. Against all odds, through much discomfort, with zero validation, what drives us to create.

And I want to honor someone that I worked with who recently passed away.

On March 2nd, P.J. Horoszko died at age 27. He was an editor at Picador, who was working on the book of one of my clients.

In the shock of hearing of P.J.’s death, I did a Google search to get more of a glimpse into his life, and found this photograph:

P.J. Horoszko
Photo by Stephen Tompkins.

This was taken back in 2009 when P.J. was 21 years old, trying to make money to pay the rent by singing in the street.

I was taken aback by his resemblance to a young Bob Dylan:

PJ and Dylan

Clearly, it is sad to consider how much potential is now gone with his death. His creative verve for poetry, music, for editing is now silenced.

But there was another photo of P.J. that I thought reflected on the struggle that we all face in our creative work. In the image above, we see a youthful P.J. in a classic pose as a busker. It is a timeless and romantic image.

This is what happens when you turn the camera around though:

P.J. Horoszko
Image by Image by Stephen Tompkins

This is the reality of the struggle we all go through with our creative work. Of the 12 people seen in the “audience,” 3 are walking away, and 5 have their backs to P.J., engrossed in other conversations.

The only two people paying attention to P.J. is the woman in a wheelchair and her caregiver.

This is how P.J. shared his art. How he hoped to pay rent. A creative spirit finding his way, finding his voice.

This is the reality for how we all begin. The realities of how we confront silence as we share creative work that spent years to craft.

And a milestone that is looked back on fondly years later, when you truly do make your mark.

Yesterday I met with P.J.’s colleagues at Picador in the Flatiron building. Sitting in that office overlooking Manhattan, brainstorming about how to get the book that P.J. edited into the hands of readers — this is the culmination of one aspect of P.J.’s creative work.

One that lives on without him, hoping to affect the world one reader at a time.

And I won’t lie: I hope that this post lights a bit of a spark in some of you… to connect that image of P.J. to Bob Dylan to your own work. To remember what is possible, and what is at stake.

You have a vision that is alive within you. Sure, you have many challenges in sharing that with the world. But you are here today, reading this. Here today able to make your mark.

And that is a gift that we each get to choose what we make of it.

Thank you.
-Dan

Behind the Scenes of a Bestselling Launch

My most recent guest post on WriterUnboxed.com delves into a behind the scenes look of a bestselling book launch. It also covers seven tips for your own launches, including:

  • You Need a Team
  • You Need Time for Your Launch
  • Worry About Who Will Share Your Message as Early as Possible
  • Overdeliver
  • Fear of Missing Out is the Crux of Good Marketing
  • Marketing Means Being Strategic
  • “Luck” is the Elephant in the Room

You can read the full post here.

Thanks!
-Dan

“I feel stuck”

This is the phrase I hear often from people who are trying to make progress with their creative work: “I feel stuck.”

Sure, they have a strong vision, but they are also swamped with daily responsibilities. They can’t seem to find a clear path forward.

As we head into spring, something you may already be asking yourself is, “Am I making progress?” Do you feel a sense of momentum in your creative work?

I’m going to ask you to make a choice right now:

  • Option 1: Below, I’m going to tell you about a small group coaching program I am opening up a handful of slots for: my private mastermind group. Here, we work together to create progress with your work. It is genuinely one of the most special things I have ever offered.
  • Option 2: If that doesn’t interest you, stop reading. Close this window, and get back to work. I don’t want to get in your way. (Heads up: I’m working on a massive post next week that I think you will LOVE.)

Okay, if you are still with me, let’s dig in…

What Creates Momentum?

My mastermind group is basically a small group coaching program, with lots of collaboration and personal feedback. Recently, I have talked about collaboration being the secret to success. You will be part of a group of 15 people (plus me!), who become your team to help you brainstorm, get focused, create a plan, and stay accountable.

Working on creative projects is often a lonely endeavor filled with overwhelm and doubt. The mastermind setting removes both of those things, creating clarity and support.

I don’t open the doors to this group very often, and I want to make note of this up front: nearly half the slots are already filled, meaning if you are interested, please take action soon. Slots go on a first come, first served basis.

What the Mastermind Gives You

The mastermind is for writers, crafters, designers, artists, entrepreneurs, and others whose work is not just about earning money, but about creating something special that will enrich the lives of others.

The focus of the mastermind is two-fold:

  1. To act as a feedback and support group to help you gain clarity in your goals, and focus in working towards them every single day. We assist you in establishing the right habits, and are there to keep you accountable.
  2. In this mastermind session, I am also adding the theme of “audience engagement.” I will provide insights, worksheets, and prompts to help you focus on ways to identify, grow, and engage your audience.

This program has had profound results for previous participants. After teaching years of courses, I am now focusing more on the mastermind because the effects are simply off the charts.

Members of past mastermind sessions have found incredible clarity on what they should be doing; they have made leaps in their careers; they have become healthier; they have felt better about doing the work that they love.

How the Mastermind Works

The mastermind happens virtually — wherever you are.

You are given access to our private Slack group, which is basically a 24/7 instant messaging system for small teams. This is where you can brainstorm ideas, share insights, cry for help, and feel a sense of collaboration in what can be an otherwise lonely process.

I am in there every day providing feedback.

I post a private video each day discussing topics from the group. These videos provide an inside look into how to truly make progress. I will not talk in theory, but in terms of practical steps, sharing with you how I am doing this myself. Each video is in direct reaction to what the group is talking about, nothing is prerecorded. I am in the trenches with you, finding clarity and momentum.

Take Action

If the mastermind sounds like it may be fore you, full details are here. It costs $250 per month to join, and it’s a 3-month commitment.

If the mastermind is not right for you for any reason, I completely understand. As I mentioned above, I’m working on a big post for next week, and between now and then, I hope you are able to pursue the work that matters most to you.

Thanks!
-Dan