As a kid, I’d do anything I could to avoid being on stage. In elementary school, I ran the lights and curtain for the school play. In high school, I avoided any class or activity that might involve making a speech. I put off my single public-speaking class in college until my senior year. In my early career, I much preferred spending time in the engineering lab to going to trade shows and talking to customers; in my later career, I enjoyed being the lone creative guy who went away, locked the door, and came back a few days later with brilliant concepts–hopefully that the accounts people would present for me.
But a funny thing happened on the way to the present. During the first dot-com explosion, I was invited to speak in front of a group of students at Loyola Marymount University, on the subject of the then-emerging “search engine optimization and internet marketing” phenomenon. I figured, hey, I was in this with our creative director, who was a very polished, well-spoken fellow, so how bad could it be? And I discovered something pretty amazing: not only was I good at presenting, but I was better than our creative director! I still remember him looking at me in amazement and saying, “Where the hell did that come from? You were good!”
Since then, I’ve become something of a sought-after speaker in the emerging marketing space. I’ve given presentations on social media and virtual worlds in front CEOs and CMOs and executive vice-presidents of Fortune 500 companies. I’ve stood in front of crowds of a couple of thousand people. And, you know what? Not only isn’t it that bad, it’s actually a lot of fun.
“Cool, now I know more about Stoddard than I ever really wanted to,” you’re probably saying. “How does this help me sell my novel/market my crap/enjoy my life?”
Well, you could look at it as a metaphor for today’s author. The old model of the author as the lone creative worked well in the past. If you were a pulp writer, the more you could produce the better you would do; even if you were a public name, your marketing was handled by your publisher, and you only had to perform at some carefully-orchestrated signings. You were expected to be a little unapproachable.
But today it’s different. Your chance of writing enough to make a living at the pulp market is exactly zero. Your publisher may not be able to do any marketing for you, and, even if they do, they may not be capable of understanding how to best use the rapidly-evolving online marketing ecosystem. Which means: the better you are at engaging with people, the better your chance of success. And there are so many ways to engage: post your status on Twitter, Facebook, or MySpace, and tens to tens of thousands of people will know. Blog and people will hear. Participate in forums and popular sites, and people will notice. And, if you’re comfortable speaking, either one-on-one or in groups, you can get interviewed on podcasts and radio and online video and TV, and people will hear and see you. There are almost unlimited opportunities out there, if you’re willing to take them.
“But I’m a brilliant old-school writer, crafting some of the finest prose in the known universe! The publishing industry must discover me and bring me in front of the world!” someone might be saying.
Well, yeah, life is not fair. And I’m sure we will lose some great voices in this new world. But I invite you to go back to the beginning of this post and read where I came from. Until a few short years ago, I’d be sitting in the windowless room with you, waiting for someone to slide a pizza under the door.
And maybe that’s the real point. Never say never. Always be open to change. Don’t be afraid to surprise yourself. And, above all–keep trying.
October 12th, 2008 / Comments Off