How to talk about what you do in a way that others want to know more (and buy)?
How to talk about what you do in a way that others want to know more (and buy)?
And three emotions you want to avoid for your reader
Hi there,
Welcome to Follow Your Gut, a publication about the artist life and business. A large part of this essay is free to read, the end is behind a paywall. I just wanted to give a heads up in advance. Now it’s your choice 📖 💖🥰 love, Elin
How to talk about what you do in a way that others want to know more?
This is a question that I believe every artist (should) ask themselves at one point or another. But what usually happens is a sort of ostrich dance of putting the head in the sand, occasionally peaking up, before hiding again (ps. Ostriches don’t actually put their head in the sand, but neither do artists…).
I do it too, the hiding from the problem dance.
Not so much when it comes to selling though, as I’ve come to see the joy and art in that type of writing too. But definitely when it comes to other things. Especially things that I know I need to do but can’t make myself do just yet.
For instance, it took me two years before I dared to peak my head above ground long enough to realize that to sell my work is not a bad thing. To sell your work doesn’t make you less of a writer or artist. In fact, the very opposite IS true, because the more work you sell, the more you can afford to produce and hopefully there will be a continuous exponential curve of demand and supply until you reach the point of an existential crisis when you realize; oh shit, I’m actually an artist for real now.
It’s a pretty cool place to get to.
But scary.
Lots of additional layers of imposter and pressure reveal themselves day by day, work by work. A bit like characters in a story get more complex as events progress and we get to know them better, so too, does artistry get more complex in our minds when our livelihood suddenly depends on it.
It’s relatively easy to create when we’re “nobody”. When there’s zero perceived pressure on how our making will turn out, whether we’ll be able to sell it or not (and within a reasonable timeframe) so that we can pay your bills on time.
We all have bills to pay. In some countries there’s even tax to pay regardless of whether you make money or not… I know, it’s soul crushing. Like someone decided to take the creative joy and crush it into a million pieces like a mirror that falls off the wall before it’s been hung up.
This is probably why there are equally many self-proclaimed artist-life critics as there are aspiring artists. The artist-life critics are those who’ve given it a go, didn’t enjoy the discomfort in having to continuously promote their work or not knowing when (or how) the next paycheck will come, decided that art is better when freed from financial pressure, and retreat to a hobbyist.
The aspiring artist is the one who profoundly refuses to let go of the dream and keep fighting. It’s the one who may very well become an overnight success in ten years or so.
There’s nothing bad in the artist-life-critic route by the way.
But where I have a problem is when it becomes a projection onto those who keep fighting, refusing to let go, (because yes, once you reach a certain stage it truly feels like there’s no turning back and that you’ve actually got no choice but to keep going), when they say YUK to self-promotion, deeming it as a less-than-pursuit instead of saluting the creative ways in which it can take place.
I’ve always wondered why the F** it should be any different to sell your art than some other product.
It’s not like entrepreneurs create a product and tell nobody about it. So why in earth should we make art and stay silent?
The idea that “if it’s good, they will come”, feels to me the same as giving up on our own autonomy and responsibility for making art happen in the first place. Of course, we can have more or less luck on the way, like who we meet, when and where. But it’s ultimately still us who need to put ourselves out there at some point or another (whether we like it or not).
To put yourself out there is a triggering concept, I get that.
It easily translates to the need (or urge) to share personal juicy details as a means to drive curiosity and interest in readers to hopefully sell more. But what if we look at it from the readers/buyer’s perspective?
Do we really care to know the insides of someone else’s skin? Or are we just curious to see how knowing someone else’s story may make us feel less alone in our own?
Personally, and maybe this is partly due to my upbringing in Sweden with a heavy weight on the law of Jante, I never think of myself as a unique case. I just assume that I’m most likely not alone in my boat (even if I certainly feel alone at times).
I’m just me.
I avoid to contemplate too much on all the things that make me unique and how to hone in on that, because ultimately I find perceived uniqueness to add more pressure than anything else. This doesn’t mean that I’m not unique. Maybe I am. I probably am, just like you. I’ve received comments about being an original more than once, more than thrice in fact.
But the point is, I don’t ponder on it. I have dreams like everybody. I also have struggles like everybody. It’s not like I see myself as more than just because I’ve managed to figure out something when it comes to running my own art business.
Complex, remember.
It’s cliché to say “it’s not the destination that counts, it’s the journey”, but cliches exist for a reason. In this case, the destination doesn’t even exist. I wrongfully thought, when I was still a student at university living in a tiny rooftop studio in Paris, that if I could just become a full time artist I had made it.
Ironically, once I arrived I had to figure out how to stay there. It’s like many with money will tell you, that money problems don’t go away just because you have loads. Having loads of something usually means an increased risk of more things going wrong.
When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. Everything, literally, is a win. You get 10 likes on an essay; AMAZING. But if it’s your bread and butter, 10 likes won’t do a great lot of difference.
Traffic, followers or subscribers doesn’t mean income, it just means an increased potential for income.
When I reached 100k, then 200k followers on Instagram some years back, it was as if some people automatically added a dollar sign after the respective number. Same goes for email subscribers - you have gurus who’ll tell you that you should make an average or 1$/subscriber/month. Well, would that mean that writers on here with lists in the hundreds of thousands; automatically makes hundreds of thousands/month? NO.
It’s a stupid made up metric, designed by marketers and copywriters to make you feel like you’re still in lack, and therefore more likely to buy and unblock the hidden secrets to monetary success.
I don’t mean to sound bitter, though I probably am a bit bitter about all the generic advice thrown in the face of artists as if we don’t know better. Just because you’re an artist doesn’t mean you’re less intelligent and failed at everything else - many times it’s the absolute opposite. You had the guts to make the jump, despite the odds being against you.