The Grasshopper #32: More Damn Numbers, Including Dollar Signs
This may be the end of trying to sell books
Given all the hoopla about Elon Musk and whatever it is he is doing with Twitter, I’ve been evaluating and speculating about platforms and media for publishing your own work. For the record, I have never understood the value of Twitter, nor have I spent much time looking at my account, which for some unknown reason shows 500-600 followers.
My guess is all of them might have read a Tweet a long time ago, followed me, and then promptly forgot about my existence, because I don’t Tweet. They are meaningless and valueless to me as a writer who tries to make a living of sorts from words and ideas.
Fortunately we have other platforms to get our stuff in front of people. But they present their own set of issues, mainly getting traction, which I define as readers who read more than one of your efforts; regular readers, in other words.
When I started The Grasshopper, I invited people on my Medium email list, which was and is small, and picked up about seventy subs. I remained stuck at seventy for four months until I tried inviting my Medium readers, many of whom are writers or aspire to be writers, to subscribe.
That simple tactic is bringing in a steady flow of new newsletter readers, for which I thank each of you. But what if you don’t have an email list or regular Followers from another writing platform?
Like everything else in life you have to plug away at it
Many writers make much of what a lonely life it is. But I contend that it does not have to be, at least not like that mythical writer in a cold garret with a sputtering candle scratching out words no one will read.
Side note, my first solo apartment was an actual garret, which is an attic apartment. I loved that place, mainly because it was my first time living alone. Maybe that is why I never found writing a lonely pursuit.
I think lonely is the wrong word here. It may be that writers who feel lonely are actually suffering from frustration at not getting read. That may explain the popularity of writer’s groups, those horrible things where writers critique each other’s work. It always seemed to me that writers endured that crap because of their desperate need to be acknowledged by someone, anyone.
I think this requires an attitude adjustment, which brings me back to that damn numbers thing. There is a notion called poverty mindset, the idea that you can’t achieve what others do all the time. In the case of writers, this means readers and money.
Medium did a thing earlier last year. They limited a writer’s ability to qualify for their Partner Program to writers who built up a following of at least 100 followers and who published a minimum number of articles monthly.
A lot of complaining ensued, mostly from writers who liked the idea of internet riches but expected them to be easy, likely after reading endless articles saying how easy it was to achieve. Then, faced with a requirement to perform, they got bent out of shape.
I agreed with those requirements. Paying people tiny amounts once or twice a year must have been a management nightmare. But I remembered hitting one hundred followers and how it felt. It felt good but I earned it. Now I have fifty times that and it still feels good, but I earned them too.
I did a lot of writing and publishing, which is what you have to do. And that might be lonely or frustrating at the beginning. The reality of writing as a skill is the reality of all skills- you must do the work, constantly learn from reading, and work at improving your writing and how you present your ideas.
There’s good news about this. We have public places to practice our craft, places that put it out there to be discovered, reader by reader.
I realize I have been harping on this topic here at The Grasshopper, but that’s because I find it so empowering.
In my early twenties I was in a garage band, in the sense that we were learning to play together, to perform and to write material. Our first gig was in an indie record store and there were a handful of friends and family there. And it was still a thrill, just as big a thrill as a few years later when we regularly played in front of hundreds of people.
The reality of that memory is that we probably were pretty terrible at the beginning. But we kept at it, got better, and built a following. And it was a blast. But it happened because we didn’t stay in the garage (in our case, the basement), we got out there with our little sound and amateur songs.
You have to get out there in the same way and the earlier you do it, the faster things will happen with your work. I think putting out solo work is harder than something like a band where you share the scary parts with others. But there are lots of other writers on platforms like Medium. You’ll gradually get to know them and understand that it is a community.
If you’re in a community, it’s a lot harder to be lonely as a creator.
It’s a holiday week here in the States so I may not be publishing my Sunday Edition, which is a little irregular by definition. I have not decided yet, but my commitment to myself here is that there will always be the Wednesday newsletter. Setting deadlines for publishing is really important for short form nonfiction. I love me a deadline- they keep me honest.
If you’re American, eat a lot of turkey and get catatonic and I’ll see you next Wednesday, if not earlier. If you’re international, likewise but maybe without the turkey!
Martin
1008 words
Buy me a coffee and I’ll pass it on.