We get slammed silly with requests for money, don’t we? Whether it’s that hilarious e-mail from Nnandia in Nigeria who has forgotten the password to his bank account and lost his puppy to civil war, or the salvos from the predictable PTA moms or the “Buy this product and be instantly fixed forever,” someone is always asking for something. We get “buy now, get one free” or “BOGOed” to death. It becomes just white noise sometimes. I’ll confess to a range of emotions myself when anyone asks me for anything, and most of these emotions are ugly. Icky. BOGO makes me finger itch. Makes me start reaching for my credit card. Charity campaigns make me irritable, guilty, frustrated, compassionate, sympathetic, or (gah!) often bored. The letters from total strangers who can’t find their passwords? I sneer, sniffle and snicker at these folks. PTA moms? Well, for a couple years, before I went back to work, I was a PTA Mom. I sent out those notes asking parents to send in money for parties, class gifts, raffles, fundraisers, and pancake breakfasts. It was a lot of work, but I loved my kid and wanted to help. Someone had to keep the lights on. I’m no longer a PTA Mom. And now, after several years of chipping in 10 dollars here, 20 dollars there, I’m not even responding to most requests I receive from PTA Moms. I got overwhelmed. I’d receive these e-mails, often a few a day, since I have three elementary school age children, and store them in my in-box, intending to take care of them later. It strikes me now that there are at least 50 of those e-mails, still waiting for action on my part. And the school year’s ended! Gah! Bleh! I feel kind of awful about that, especially now. Why? Now, I’m the one who is trying to raise money. And I don’t want to beg, badger, barter or bazooka (I call new usage, bazooka as verb) folks with my campaign. Really. I don’t. I could, you know, try the bazooka method, which is kind of like pulling on my big girl panties. I could say to myself, “Ask 100 people, and if 1 or 2 people contribute, you’ve scored big.” The truth is, I get annoyed when total strangers, or bare acquaintances hit me with project requests. I get annoyed, and yet, I am that poor sap who often taps down her credit card number, usually holding my breath and hoping my husband doesn’t ask me what charity I’m helping or unnecessary product I’m buying. The other bit of truth? I can’t handle the rejection that comes when you raise money via bazooka. It eats away at me. Is there another way? How about bartering? Offering my books and services? Sure. That’s fine, it feels good, like giving something of value and receiving reasonable remuneration in return. Like so many others, I’m placing my products and services into that universal, massive shopping mall that is the Internet, and holding my breath, hoping enough people browse in my window to enable me to keep the lights on for a little longer. In other words, I’m waiting. It’s probably the hardest thing a creator can do. We labor over our creations. Heart, mind, soul, spirit—thrown into this vast mental vat, stirred, re-stirred, packaged, priced, and now waiting for buyers. There’s no magical prince coming, no rich patron who will buy up the entire store with a single scrawled signature. No. Like every other entrepreneur, I gotta make my own magic. I need to hustle. Work hard. Knock on doors and remind myself to smile. Be myself, and believe in my product. Ask politely, ask gently, and no matter what, keep on writing. After all, it’s the words, the products, the goods we create, wherein the magic resides. If we build it, they will come. If I write it, you will read it. I hope. Please, if you can, help me keep the lights on a little longer. indiegogo/projects/i-run-a-novel/x/3261119
Posted on: Thu, 27 Jun 2013 00:19:43 +0000
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