I am in "business" mode this week. What does that mean? I am thinking about marketing and web design and "brand" and head shots and more.
Why? I think it is important to have the bones of my marketing world in place before I get "the call." And here's why. I know it will happen one day and when it does, I don't want to get bogged down in all of this heavy thinking when I need to concentrate on what is important: THE WRITING. I have a bit of time now. I have some wiggle room to work in all of these other elements. And it's okay if my brain isn't fully focused on the development of my stories 100% of the time.
When I get "the call" I won't have that luxury. And believe me this time and wiggle room is a luxury. I've been slowly building my base, not in a crass way, but in my usual way: be friendly and kind and the world will return the favor. I don't push hard for followers or facebook friends or twitter peeps. I think I just need to be myself and eventually my base will grow as a result.
I don't want to be that hamster on a wheel running and running and running in circles singing "look at me and look at what I can do!" when I get "the call." I believe my books will speak for themselves and my readers will love them. I want to have time to connect with them in an authentic and real way. That's why I am "branding" myself now. That's why I am building my network and my web pages now.
Yesterday I spent about two hours talking with a wonderful person who runs THINK FLOW DESIGN. Florina Craven knows how to design pages. She knows how to connect all these marketing dots. This is what she breathes for air. Me? Uh, not so much. But I don't have to know everything. I just have to know enough to get her started and she'll run with my brand and my ideas and my story themes and build me a beautiful and spicy website with 4 pages to start.
And for a fee I can have her design a logo which I can use for all my future marketing needs. Wow. Really? That's awesome. That beats me taking the time to do it because if I spend all my time trying to make something half way pretty for a design guess what I won't be doing? Right. The writing.
I love to write stories. I love to get to know my characters and build their worlds. I love cutting out pictures from magazines and storyboarding. I love revising and reshaping my stories. I love the craft of writing. I love learning about it and talking about it. It energizes me.
Talking about passwords and overlaying codes and widgets is something I have to do now so I won't have to do it much later. And I am so glad I found Florina and her company. It helps that she knows me and we have connected at conferences on a personal level. She understands me and knows my personality. In fact she knows my personality so well that when she suggested the colors for my website I was floored. They're all over my house!!
I am embarking on a journey. One that will be fun and a bit scary for me. But I am not embarking on this journey alone. I have a professional with me. One who has my best interests at heart. One who understands writers. One who will bring my worlds to the web far better than I could possibly imagine.
As I embark on this journey I want to know what kind of questions or experiences you have had in marketing. Do you have web pages? Are you intimidated by trying to "brand" yourself? Do you know where to start looking for designers, photographers, marketing tools?
Post your questions here. I plan to interview Florina and would love to incorporate your ideas and questions.
And for one lucky commentator, I have a fun prize. A book called WE ARE NOT ALONE by Kristen Lamb. If you haven't got this book and you're dedicated to building a writing career, this is the book for you. It gives you a great place to start building your career one step at a time!
Showing posts with label brand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brand. Show all posts
Friday, February 10, 2012
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Birthday Wishes and Memories of My Dad
My dad, Robert Alexander Doorenbos, was born in Alexandria, Egypt November 17, 1928. He passed away August 20, 2002 in Winnipeg, Canada. It's been a little over 8 years since he died, but I still miss him. He wasn't a perfect man, nor a perfect father, but he was a good man who loved me. He loved my husband, and he loved my daughter. There are days when I think to myself, wow, I wish Dad was here because he'd really enjoy this movie, this book, this drive, this scenery, this weather, this meal, this celebration.
I haven't written too much about him because how do I encapsulate his life? I missed a lot of years from the time I was 16 until I married at 22. Those years were lost for many reasons. Reasons that I don't discuss publicly. Suffice to say that he contributed to the reasons as much, if not more, than I did. I understand why and I have forgiven him, too. And in the forgiveness, I bought back a lot of years. Years filled with good memories, fellowship, love. Years where I shared my grown up life with him. Years where he became a friend, a father-in-law, an Opa.
One paragraph in my dad's memoir, written in 1991, describes his personality really well. He'd just been released from a Japanese concentration camp and was finally able to reunite with his mother and sister. He'd been in an all male camp for quite some time and in Camp 7. He wrote:
Back in Camp 7 it was not as crowded as when I arrived a few months earlier. Approximately 800 men and 110 boys had died in those six months. Rations had been so poor that diabetics did not need their insulin and they could not get it anyway. I went to see mother and Hetty in Camp 6, four miles away, a long walk. That night, on my way back, I got a lift in a truck with Japanese soldiers. Standing between them was a weird experience. All I owned in the world was shorts and a shirt, both tattered. My head been shaven at one time and grew back in irregular patches due to malnutrition. I weighed maybe 90 pounds and was covered with infected sores as every scratch festered. My arms and legs were wrapped in old dirty bandages which made me look like something pulled out of an Egyptian tomb. I must have been an awful sight and mother fainted when she saw me. It did not bother me too much. I felt fine after a week of adequate rations and had not looked in the mirror for six months.
I guess you could say I get my ability to find the silly in the serious from my Dad.
So now, as a memorial to him, I'd like to share my impressions of Dad's life based on how we authors tag/brand ourselves. Here are some words that I believe best describe my Dad.
Robert Alexander Doorenbos.
Survivor, artist, calligrapher, painter, cross country skier, adventurer, bibliophile, intellectual, engineer, architect, explorer, traveler, photographer, writer, cook, baker, Mason, toastmaster, cat lover, loner, humble, curious, generous, gifted, husband, brother, son, uncle, father, father-in-law, friend, Opa, man
I miss my dad. I miss our talks, our trips to the museums, and our mutual curiosity about life. Most of all I miss all the memories I still want to make with him.
Happy Birthday Dad. May your room in Heaven have an easel, a map, and a walking stick.
I haven't written too much about him because how do I encapsulate his life? I missed a lot of years from the time I was 16 until I married at 22. Those years were lost for many reasons. Reasons that I don't discuss publicly. Suffice to say that he contributed to the reasons as much, if not more, than I did. I understand why and I have forgiven him, too. And in the forgiveness, I bought back a lot of years. Years filled with good memories, fellowship, love. Years where I shared my grown up life with him. Years where he became a friend, a father-in-law, an Opa.
One paragraph in my dad's memoir, written in 1991, describes his personality really well. He'd just been released from a Japanese concentration camp and was finally able to reunite with his mother and sister. He'd been in an all male camp for quite some time and in Camp 7. He wrote:
Back in Camp 7 it was not as crowded as when I arrived a few months earlier. Approximately 800 men and 110 boys had died in those six months. Rations had been so poor that diabetics did not need their insulin and they could not get it anyway. I went to see mother and Hetty in Camp 6, four miles away, a long walk. That night, on my way back, I got a lift in a truck with Japanese soldiers. Standing between them was a weird experience. All I owned in the world was shorts and a shirt, both tattered. My head been shaven at one time and grew back in irregular patches due to malnutrition. I weighed maybe 90 pounds and was covered with infected sores as every scratch festered. My arms and legs were wrapped in old dirty bandages which made me look like something pulled out of an Egyptian tomb. I must have been an awful sight and mother fainted when she saw me. It did not bother me too much. I felt fine after a week of adequate rations and had not looked in the mirror for six months.
I guess you could say I get my ability to find the silly in the serious from my Dad.
So now, as a memorial to him, I'd like to share my impressions of Dad's life based on how we authors tag/brand ourselves. Here are some words that I believe best describe my Dad.
Robert Alexander Doorenbos.
Survivor, artist, calligrapher, painter, cross country skier, adventurer, bibliophile, intellectual, engineer, architect, explorer, traveler, photographer, writer, cook, baker, Mason, toastmaster, cat lover, loner, humble, curious, generous, gifted, husband, brother, son, uncle, father, father-in-law, friend, Opa, man
I miss my dad. I miss our talks, our trips to the museums, and our mutual curiosity about life. Most of all I miss all the memories I still want to make with him.
Happy Birthday Dad. May your room in Heaven have an easel, a map, and a walking stick.
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