Thoughts on Self Promotion

When it comes to freelancing or being an entrepreneur, whether you're an artist or selling vacuum's, I have found that not many people are going to promote you better than you.

And if you're like me, this can be difficult.

Being no stranger to the task of self-promotion, I decided to quit pulling my hair out and outline some guidelines.

3 ways to self promote:

1.  Be Subtle.
No one likes an overbearing goodwill sucking in your face louder than life agenda driven loud mouth.  Stay Classy.

When to Start

The more I confess my desire to write a book, the more peers I come across who say they feel too young to start.

I feel too young to start, too.  My life experience is laughable in the presence of most, but I know there's so much more to becoming a good writer than the number of items you've checked off your bucket list. And I couldn't imagine how whimsically treacherous my life would be if I always only followed my feelings.

I believe like any art, or sport... or thing, you've got to start somewhere.  So why not now?

Anyone who has mastered anything started working towards it long ago.

Many respectable writers I have come across published their first books as young adults, or even as teens.  And they published, and published, and published.  They didn't wait until they felt qualified to release a single swan song at the end of their lives.  They seized the pen, the day, their idea, and they started.

If I had a dollar for every time I waited to do something when I was older, I certainly wouldn't be any richer.

Those Lines

I love those lines... 

The lines that wake you up when you didn't even know you were sleeping.

The ones that you instantly re-read; 

giving them a mental double-take, as if they were a mirage too good to be true. 

Those lines that stand out, like a single sun beam on a grey day.

They suddenly become illuminated right there on the page.

The ones that just don't feel right for the whole world to not know.

The ones that leave a circle on your mind like that of a tree line.

How to be Extremely Angry with Good Form

         My mischievous printer reminded me all too well today of how much I love (and sometimes envy) the scene from the movie "Office Space."  The irate office workers take their copy machine out to a field and teach it a lesson by completely annihilating it with a baseball bat.  My inner tranquility would typically give Ghandi a run for his money.  On the rare occasion my inner peace does get breached, though, I do try to leave baseball bats out of the equation.  Getting angry is easy, but controlling anger can be a bit trickier.  Here's a few ways I have found to healthily handle moments of extreme outrage:

1.  Punch things that can't break.  Have you ever broken a kleenex?  Of course not.  I would know, because I've been trying for years.  Kleenex, paper, napkins and the like, are some of my favorite things to take my anger out on.  They also make for a nice slow moving target when you throw them up in the air and give them a good right hook as they're slowly falling... just make sure no one is standing nearby that may fall victim to your impassioned Rocky impression.

Car Wash Rhythm

Thin blue ballerinas surround me, swooshing back and forth in perfect rhythm.

I am at peace.

I feel safe as the soap storm drowns my vessel.  

I do nothing, but somehow, so much is happening all around me.

So much is being accomplished.

Leaning back in my leather seat meditating on the sounds of soapy clockwork, somehow, I myself feel a sense of accomplishment.  A fulfilling peace.  I feel a glimpse of my futures aspirations, where effectiveness and results dance around me in synchronicity.  I do nothing, but somehow, everything is happening because of me.

As the monsoon ensues, washing my soapy thoughts away, I see the flashing "ready" light approaching.  The readiness asks me more questions than I know answers.

They say the most common regret among those on their death bed is not living a life that was true to themselves.  Will I share such regret?  The flashing "ready" light asks me more questions than I know answers.  The light flashes green with the word "go".  I rejoice.  Not because I have answers, but because at the end of it all, the cleansing has happened regardless.

The Internet is like Outer Space in Inner Earth

Words are like war.
They give life, cleanse, and kill.
Letters are the warriors of the front line.
Whose ammo stains unquestionably from orders of the pen.

Words are like art.
They give life, cleanse, and kill.
The pages are the canvas,
unintentionally altered for other purposes.

Words are like water.
They give life, cleanse, and kill.
The binding is the rain clouds,
who have never met non-judgement.

Saturday Morning

He stood there in a dazed stupor.  Wearing his Plush robe black as his last sip of coffee.  Covered in lint from laying in bed with his robe on again; he had told himself he was going to stop doing that.  Robes are like permanently attached giant blankets, though, as if one were already curled up in the large covers of a cozy bed.  Sometimes he just liked to make that transition seamless, jumping right under the covers still robed.  He regretted it every time, though.  It is quite difficult to roll over in bed when your lying on something loosely wrapped around your entire body; not to mention you'll be sweating uncomfortably in no time.  So inevitably, every time, the robe would be awkwardly wiggled out of from under the covers, like a magician escaping from a straight jacket.

It was Saturday.  The day with no expectations for work, but every expectation for himself.  If you're going to develop yourself, explore the world, become an astronaut, or do anything fancy in your free time, Saturday is the day to do it.  What pressure.

A Dream Renewed

They told him it was good to have dreams, like Martin Luther King.  He believed them, and he was chosen in front of the whole school to read his speech.  He felt really special, and saw something great, he was never the same after the 2nd grade.

First it was the toys he played with, then a sports star, no matter what his dream was, he always believed it with all his heart.  So it's no surprise by the time he was a teen, he had the rest of his life figured out, he found his ultimate dream.  For years he worked, he worked real hard, before he knew it, he'd grown into a young man living for the same charge.