I'm Guest Blogging on Kottke This Week
via Fashion Copious
via Fashion Copious
Considering a title for this post, I was reminded of a post I wrote back in 2010, "The Numbers on Self-Publishing Long-Form Journalism." In 2009, I'd self-published, "They Shoot Porn Stars, Don't They?", a longform look at how the Great Recession impacted the adult movie industry. The piece was free for readers, so the numbers I wrote about in that follow up essay mostly focused on how many people had read it.
This week, I self-published "The Tumor," a beautifully designed, deeply horrifying digital short story about a husband, a wife, and the tumor that shows up to terrorize them. You can buy it directly from me on my website, and I'm charging $1.
Or am I?
Gumroad, the platform I'm using to process payments, has a payment option called Pay What You Want. You can read about how Gumroad does PWYW here. Of course, Gumroad didn't invent PWYW. Radiohead used the pricing strategy to sell In Rainbows. Stephen King used it to serialize The Plant. Panera Bread used it to hawk turkey chili.
According to Wikipedia:
"Pay what you want (or PWYW) is a pricing strategy where buyers pay any desired amount for a given commodity, sometimes including zero. In some cases, a minimum (floor) price may be set, and/or a suggested price may be indicated as guidance for the buyer. The buyer can also select an amount higher than the standard price for the commodity."
Gumroad enables you to utilize PWYW pricing by giving the seller (people like me) the option to add a "+" when setting the price for the product. I decided to charge $1 for "The Tumor," and I added the PWYW option. So the price for the buyer (people like you) appears as $1+. When you click to purchase, Gumroad's prompt next to the amount box reads: "Name a fair price." You can enter $1, or you can enter a bigger amount -- say, $3, or $5, or $1,000. It's up to you, the consumer.
Why would you use PWYW? Well, for one, Gumroad asserts, "Pay-what-you-want products often make upwards of 20% more revenue." I'd already used PWYW with Gumroad because Clayton Cubitt is my friend, and a photographer, and people were emailing him with questions all the time -- you know, asking for advice -- so he created the InterroClayton. Basically, you can ask him a question, but you have to pay for the answer.
As Cubitt puts it:
"This $2 digital download entitles the purchaser to ask any single question of me and receive an honest answer to it in a timely fashion. It is a VIP ticket to my mind."
Way to monetize your brain power.
(Side note: You can also "sell" your stuff for free on Gumroad. One great thing about Gumroad is that you get to see who is buying your product. Unlike Amazon. Like I said before, Fuck Bezos. You won't be making money, per se, but, as Gumroad says, "It's a great way to get valuable data from your audience in exchange for giving them great content." Gumroad's got more on pricing and pay what you want here, and you can also check out their "Is Pay What You Want Pricing for You?" interview with author Tom Morkes, who wrote The Complete Guide to Pay What You Want Pricing. Also, Money has "A Brief History of Pay What You Want Businesses" and Louis C.K.'s role in it).
In any case, "The Tumor" is PWYW priced at $1+. So far, the average price people are paying for it is $2.77. The highest price paid thus far is $20, and $3 and $5 are popular amounts.
Interesting.
What's interesting to me here is not the money, or the pricing model, but the concept of value and who decides it. Is the black convertible Bentley that I see parked at the gym worth $226,000? Last year, Fiat started selling Maserati Ghiblis for $68,000, well below the rest of their $100,000-plus Maserati models, so what does that do to their brand and our perception of it, when randoms can afford a Maserati? Or, you know, why don't you just buy a Nissan Versa for $12,000 and call it a day because you don't need a car to tell the world your worth?
Why would you pay $1 to read "The Tumor"? Why would you pay $20 to read "The Tumor"? What is "The Tumor" worth? What is its value? What service does it provide? What is the market value of a fiction?
Here's the first page of "The Tumor" (page design by Domini Dragoone):
Now, what would you pay to read the rest?
Yesterday, I launched "The Tumor," an original digital short story I'm selling on my personal website.
It's a story about a husband, a wife, and what happens when the husband wants to shoot the wife to solve the problem, and she won't let him.
Here's why you should sell your work yourself:
It's Really Not That Hard
I'm using Gumroad to process purchases of "The Tumor" on my site. I chose Gumroad because Clayton Cubitt uses it, and he told me to use it. They don't take as big of a cut as Amazon.
Lesson: Fuck Bezos.
It's Great for Control Freaks
I'm a control freak. And a freelance writer. That means editors screw up my prose, incompetent designers do a shitty job of laying out my paragraphs, and artists create horrible art to go with my fine lines. It's like going to the prom and getting caught in the rain on the way, and by the time you get to the prom you look like you just got in from a gangbang. When you sell your work yourself, you control what it looks like, what format(s) it's in, and how much people pay for it.
Lesson: If you're spineless, stick to letting other people ruin your life.
You're Good Enough, You're Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like You!
I pitch stories to outlets all the time. Most of the time, they pass, they ignore, they turn up their noses. Every time this happens, it makes you feel a little more worthless, a little more downtrodden, a little more why bother. It's not easy to be a creative and have people shit on your head, is it? Here's the thing. The problem isn't your work. The problem isn't you. It's them. These needlenose fuckers, these self-proclaimed guardians of invisible velvet ropes, these losers who have desk jobs because they're too afraid to go deep and create things that are beautiful, and new, and remarkable? Why would you ask them for permission to do what you want? There are people out there who want to buy what you have. It's up to you to deliver it to them.
Lesson: Be your own Courage Wolf or the world's miniature Dachshunds will devour you.
You'll Expand Your Mind and Your Circle
It took a band of creatives to spawn "The Tumor." Peteski did the cover. Domini did the page design. Susan copyedited. Creatives spend a lot of time in isolation. Creating, producing, and selling your own work forces you to engage with others in a way that makes you smarter, sharper, and savvier. You never learn this when you hand over your work to people you never even know.
Lesson: Collaboration is the spark that ignites creation.
There's No Glamour in Being Nobody
The writer who claims he doesn't care if anyone reads his work is a liar and a fraud. At the moment your work is seen, you are being seen. The work is your child, given up to be adopted by the world, and you have a responsibility to be its doula. Otherwise, it will be invisible.
Lesson: Your 15 seconds of nanofame is there for the taking -- grab it.
Now go buy THE TUMOR.
I've been a freelance journalist for seventeen years. I've written for magazines and websites, appeared on TV and radio shows, and self-published a 10,000-word investigation of the Great Recession's impact on the adult movie industry, "They Shoot Porn Stars, Don't They?" I've published short stories, and Future Tense Books published a collection of those short stories, You're a Bad Man, Aren't You? I've blogged for Forbes and for Time Warner. At one point, I became a digital copywriter and wrote Facebook updates for a bottle of stomach medicine. But today marks the first time I'm selling one of my original digital short stories on my personal website. It is "The Tumor."
On November 23, 2011, I was diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer. Over the following year and a half, I underwent five biopsies, two surgeries, three months of chemo, thirty radiation treatments, and a year of IV drug injections that targeted my particularly aggressive type of cancer. Along the way, I went bald, my fingernails and toenails turned brown and peeled off, and I developed what's known as "chemo fog," a chemically-induced state of mind that makes you feel like your brain has been replaced by a bowl of tepid oatmeal. Throughout the process, I wrote. I wrote journalism, I blogged, I drafted a novel. In a way, writing was my therapy.
Eventually, I was declared cancer-free and sent on my way. I went back to life and writing, and I kept trying to write something that captured what it's like when a malignancy shows up in your life, and you're not sure whether you or the tumor is going to win the war into which you have been thrust. I could never quite assemble the words properly. I kept trying and kept failing. The story of the tumor eluded me.
Then, last month, it was time for my annual mammogram. Most mammograms are an unremarkable experience. In theory, one's annual mammogram is no big deal. Still, once you've had one mammogram go sideways, you worry you may pull the short straw again, and it was while I was riding a growing ball of anxiety about this upcoming scan that I wrote "The Tumor."
Of course, if you know my writing, you know this isn't just any story. It's a story about a husband and a wife, and when the wife announces that she has a tumor, the husband's first idea is that he shoot her in the chest in an attempt to eradicate this unannounced saboteur. Things get stranger from there.
I had a terrific time putting this project together, and it wouldn't have happened without the help of others. Clayton Cubitt is an inspiration to all creatives who want to do it themselves and advised me throughout. Peteski made the beautiful cover you see here. Domini Dragoone did a fantastic job creating some of the coolest page design I've ever seen. Susan Clements proved to be a keen and perfect-for-me copyeditor. Lydia Netzer championed my creative efforts, as ever.
As for that mammogram I had last month, the results raised a question mark, a biopsy was done, and it came back benign. I remain cancer-free. For all I know, the tumor has taken up residence on some far off planet. As for "The Tumor," you can buy it online here.
"Inherent Vice." Paul Thomas Anderson's latest. Based on a novel by Pynchon. Steeped in the seventies. Martin Short is a perverted, drug-addicted dentist. Josh Brolin is a hammerheaded thug who occupies himself as a cop. Joaquin Phoenix is wild-eyed and girl-dewed. Bad guys are pursued. Cases pass one another in busy turnstiles. The sea rises, falls; the sun ebbs, flows. Katherine Waterston steals the show as a groovy chick who's as much trouble as she is hot. In the best scene in the movie, she appears nude (full bush) and seduces Doc and the camera and us with the gentle shoving of her foot. It's a little HST and totally groovy. Recommended, mellowly.
Confederate flag tattoo over track marks. #Florida
— Susannah Breslin (@susannahbreslin) March 5, 2015
Image credit: Newseum
About six years ago, a young writer emailed me. He was 24. His name was David Johnson-Igra. He was looking for advice.
He wrote:
"Hello Ms. Breslin-
My name is David, and I’ve been reading your blog 'Reverse Cowgirl.' I’m a young (24) aspiring writer, and by aspiring I mean, hoping to someday be reimbursed my for contributions. I don’t mean to bore you, but I’m intrigued by your style and topics, and would like to know more about how you forged your writing career. If you have time I would love to know more about:
1. Did you attend journalism school? Is it a good way to 'break-in?'
2. Are you able to support yourself solely on your blogging and writing? If so, how long did it take for this to become possible?
3. What was your 'break'?
4. What suggestions might you give for someone like myself who has a years experience writing for a handful of small magazines?
I understand you’re very busy, and however you prefer to answer my questions (via email, phone, later on) please just let me know. Thank you again for your time, and the best of luck to you.
Thanks,
David Johnson-Igra"
I responded to him on my personal blog, a missive I reposted a year later to the now defunct True/Slant, where I was a blogger. In "A Veteran Journalist Offers a Advice to a Young Journalist," I was decidedly unkind. I sneeringly described him as a "bright-eyed, bushy-tailed" upstart and told him to "Learn how to use apostrophes." I was, I confessed, "12 years into a little-rewarding writing career," had "grown bitter, jaded," and described myself as "a broken person whose industry is slipping through her hands like a gelatinous jelly fish." Suffice to say, I wasn't very helpful.
More recently, I was reminded of our conversation, such as it was, when I read Felix Salmon's, "To All the Young Journalists Asking for Advice...." Salmon wasn't any more encouraging than I had been. His advice: "I’m sure that many people have told you this already, but take it from me as well: journalism is a dumb career move."
Which got me wondering: What happened to David? Six years had passed. He was 30. Was he a journalist?
I emailed him to find out.
Susannah Breslin: As soon as I saw Salmon's piece, I thought of our exchange. I still feel bad about it, almost six years later. I found the post archived in the Wayback Machine, since True/Slant is no longer online. Even the title is assy: "A Veteran Journalist Offers Advice to a Young Journalist."
Your email asking for advice on becoming a journalist was nice. My response is best captured in this line: "Why would I help you?" Although, I did give you some advice -- for example: "Find out what it’s like to get jizzed on for a living."
Anyway, I see now my response was much more about me and my professional frustrations than it was about you. How did my response impact you at the time -- or did it?
David Johnson-Igra: I wouldn't call myself a "bright-eyed, bushy-tailed upstart" anymore. I'm tired. I gave up freelance writing. But I'm not as jaded as you were to me, nor as Salmon seems to be. I wouldn't tell an eager writer "get out of here." Maybe it was because my "career" was short, or that I never got jizzed on, but journalism doesn't feel as bleak to me.
I listened to Eric Schlosser give a talk last week about his book, Command and Control. Schlosser explained that he remains an optimist, even though he's revealed so many terrifying truths that suggest we're on the brink of a nuclear devastation. I admire him for that. Maybe that's why I'm optimistic that technology will not perpetuate the on-demand labor workforce that will further alienate individuals in a capitalist system.
A point in Salmon's article that resonated with me:
"The answer is simple: Capital has realized that it has an advantage over Labor, and that its advantage is here to stay. The trick is to build a formula which works."
The reserve army of labor has always existed. I don't think the click-hole debate is a good one to go down. There's a reason people still follow Salmon, or yourself. We love great writing. Yes, a "bright-eyed, bushy-tailed upstart" can write a listicle on Buzzfeed garnering triple the reach of your carefully crafted investigative report, but so what? Fix the advertising model. Work for Fusion! Try to fill Andrew Sullivan's shoes.
Salmon is right: the financial foundation that has supported journalism has been tenuous. But again, I return to optimism. Journalism was a $94-95 billion dollar industry almost a decade ago, but today is down by almost 30 percent. That's $30 billion dollars on the table for journalists to earn with the right framework.
Today, I work at an online radio company called 8tracks. It's funny, because I hear the same gripes from people within the music industry about the economic crash. What has driven me to this point has always been my underlying desire to be involved with music, but I think your advice also guided me:
"Write for love. Do gigs for free. Stop churning out the same boring fucking copy that your peers are dutifully filing like a bunch of self-congratulating monkeys and find out what 'beyond the pale' really means. Read this. And this. And this. Go into the ghetto. Interview a homeless person. Find out what it’s like to get jizzed on for a living. Fuck the pyramid, fuck j-school, fuck writing for a living. Fuck your computer, fuck your rent, fuck whatever your parents said. Go and live. Go be in the world. Go push yourself until you cry and then go back for more and then write about it."
So to answer your question, this is what I learned. I learned fortitude. I pitched and got rejected. Again. And again. I used the connections I built to build new ones and so on, because I understood that nothing would come easy.
I took your advice about J-school. (I didn't go.) I told my Jewish mother you advised against it. Looking back on the mistakes I made as a writer, I wonder if I would have found a mentor in school that could have helped me avoid them.
Your encouragement to break the mold was what broke me. Soon after we first connected, I met a rock journalist. She was a free spirit that let chance lead her to parties with the Arctic Monkeys at the Fairmont Hotel, dinners with Chris Martin, and onward. I thought to myself "This is what Hunter S Thompson and Susannah Breslin would want for me." I couldn't do it. She didn't pay taxes, had no health insurance, and supported her photography by clipping marijuana in northern California.
Don't feel bad, Susannah. You told me I could write, even just a little bit, which was all I needed.
Next step, let's flip it. If you could go back, and rewrite what you wrote me, knowing what you know now, what would you say?
SB: That's a great question. I believe our original exchange happened in '09, and then I posted it on True/Slant in '10. Eventually, I ended up working with some of the same people from T/S when I became a blogger for Forbes, and in '11, I did two sort of mentoring things on my Forbes blog.
I put out a call to young female journalists, saying I would pick one of them, based on their pitches, and pay her $100 to write a guest post on my Forbes blog. I ended up choosing Lauren Rae Orsini, who ended up getting a full-time journalism job not long after, in part because of the guest post she wrote on Forbes. After that, I did the same guest post thing with a young male journalist, and I ended up picking Alan Blinder, who wrote about surviving and covering a tornado.
I don't think of myself as in any way impacting their careers, because they were on their own trajectories, but it's been neat to follow them. Lauren is an author, and a journalist, and covers all kinds of subjects, and Blinder works in the Atlanta bureau of the New York Times. Thinking about them makes me feel positive and happy for them.
Like I said when I started this exchange, I feel embarrassed about my response to you. But. These days, when young people email me asking me for advice, I don't even respond at all. I just delete their emails. And. I think if I got your email today, I would skim it, and then delete it. That's the honest answer.
What I wish my answer would be is that I would make you write. Because I don't think people who write asking for advice are really looking for advice. I think they're looking for permission. And I think people just want to be told, yes, you can do this, and, my god, you should at least try, and, hey, if there's something that you really want, you should have at it. I should have told you to write something for me, a piece of journalism, and I should've posted it on True/Slant, and then I would have been giving you "permission" to do what you wanted to do, which was to be a journalist. Instead, I slammed the lid. In other words, I should've said, "You want to write? Write." Which is very stupidly simple advice, but also true. Like, people should stop asking for permission, and people should just create. (I'm talking to myself here, too, for sure.)
You're director of marketing at 8tracks. Do you use your skills as a journalist in that role? In a way, are we defining what "journalism" is today too narrowly? Sometimes I think we need a new word. Like Life Curator. Maybe that's enough.
DJI: I understand deleting an unwanted email. I can't keep up with the pitches I receive from publicists. But, you're right that I was seeking affirmation. What you provided those two journalists, whether it enabled them to get their next gig or simply encouraged them to write more, is important. If journalism school is becoming a thing of the past (suggesting, not stating), who can a young writer turn to in order to learn and support them? A simple yes is important. People don't need permission, but as an impressionable twenty-year-old trying to get by during an economic downturn, encouragement is reassuring when everyone tells you "How the hell are you going to pay your bills?"
Marketing, journalism, PR are they all the same? I'd say the parallel is storytelling. I understand journalism as the objective truth told by a reporter. Marketing is the branding and advertising of a product. PR is the storytelling of that brand. So, yes. I've learned how to tell a story. To build arguments around a central idea I feel I should convey. I don't think we're defining journalism too narrowly. I think the notion of journalism is expanding too quickly.
Do you think there are citizen journalists on Twitter? Can personal blog posts transcend into journalistic pieces? What is the line? Who is a journalist today when everyone can photograph a moment or post an update?
You recently shared this post by Jim Romenesko rehashing Herbert Gold's 44-year-old piece:
"The delight in self, the lack of delight in subject matter, implies a serious ultimate judgement which ought to be faced by the first-person journalist: What matters? Does the world matter? Does anything matter but me? Is there anything out there? Is my business to stroke myself, and let the voyeuristic reader watch while telling him he is learning something..."
The statement seems to encapsulate some of the schism we face today between new and old journalists.
I'm not sure if we're going anywhere, or if this is helpful. Are we lost at this point with this discussion?
SB: Yes, I believe we are lost in a forest of words. Maybe that's a good thing.
I wrote a silly thing about cleavag for Men's Health.
"Sure, her face is beautiful, her breasts are impressive, and her hips are pleasing, but what draws your eye downtown is the barely-covered area between her bellybutton and her crotch. The top of her bikini pulled low, she practically demands us to gaze upon this year’s newest trend: a daring flash of vagina cleavage."
Image credit: Tom Gauld
I got myself a subscription to the New Yorker. Digital only. Kottke and Maud kept linking to it, and I kept not being able to read it, so I went for it.
From Rebecca Mead's "A City Run by Children":
"As we walked through the pedestrian streets, we passed bronze statues of inspirational eminences represented as children—Martin Luther King, Florence Nightingale, Mahatma Gandhi—while real children darted around us with fists full of kidzos. 'You go to Disneyland, and you see all those kids walking with their parents, very tired,' López remarked. 'There is two minutes of magic—the ride—and then they see the Disney characters, which no one can surpass. But here, most of the time they are running, engaged, happy.' Occasionally we came across an adult wearing the costume of one of KidZania’s RightzKeepers—anime-like cartoon characters who represent the six rightz of children. They are KidZania’s equivalent of Mickey and Minnie and include Urbano, a green-haired boy, who represents the 'right to know,' and Chika, who has purple hair and cat ears, and represents the 'right to share.' López said of Chika, 'She’s all about meeting people—her biggest ambition is to get a million friends.' López greeted the Zupervisors and other staff with 'Kai!' and a splayed hand to the heart. In the town square, there was a golden statue modelled on a celebrated one in Mexico City depicting the Angel of Independence. 'That one is a naked woman, but ours has to have clothes, because it is for children,' he said. It was like being in a reimagined Las Vegas, with the celebration of virtue substituted for the celebration of sin."
I tried to blog once a day every day this year, and I missed yesterday, so I failed at that.
Image credit: Stefanie Moshammer via This Isn't Happiness
Spirit animal. pic.twitter.com/tgm1Oa7ksf
— Susannah Breslin (@susannahbreslin) February 20, 2015
Image credit: SI
My god, Jennifer Weiner is fucking annoying. She's made a career out of writing crappy books and carping about how men are to blame for her lack of being taken seriously when the reality is that her books are what cause her to lack being taken seriously.
Most recently, she crawled out of the ooze to weinerwhine about how pubic hair or something: "Great! Another Thing to Hate About Ourselves." She wordclutters on for a while before getting to her point:
"This year, the hot new body part is the formerly unnoticed span of flesh between the top of one’s panties and the labia majora, currently displayed on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition by the model Hannah Davis."
Reference: This is the Weiner. This is the Davis.
In other words, Weiner says, the SI cover is POORRRNNNN:
"With hard-core pornography available to anyone with a laptop and a credit card, Sports Illustrated has to raise the stakes if it wants to stay relevant."
Followed by this HILARIOUS admission:
"(Disclosure: my gentleman caller edits books for Sports Illustrated and is the author of the oral history of the swimsuit issue that appears in '50 Years of Beautiful,' a coffee-table book of swimsuit shots. #Awkward.)"
#Indeed.
The rest is a fuzzy blur of complaints against Hannah's "mons pubis" and some sort of garbled defense of a vagina area that is hirsute and fat. Or something. I was left weinerized. #Confused.
(See also: FUPA.)
Personally, I was more excited by SI's half-crotch shot because I was like: TREND. What the image makes us look for is ... what to call it?
I settled on cleavag.
Let's celebrate it.
Dear. Ms. Susannah Breslin,
My name is [redacted], and I am writing to you on behalf of [redacted] in [redacted], CA. As a Feminist and an academic, I am familiar with your work analyzing the sex industry in America, and I appreciate your objective outlook on such a controversial subject. I am reaching out to see if you would be involved in a constructive discussion on erotica, specifically looking at artists like [redacted] and his platform, [redacted].
In addition to nude, pin-up style photography, [redacted] features [redacted].
I am looking for esteemed authors and journalists, such as yourself, to incorporate [redacted]'s work in the greater discussions of erotica in our society.
I would be interested to know what you think, and what points you might bring to the discussion. Please let me know if you have any questions.
Thank you, and best regards.
[redacted]
I'm not clear what you are asking for here?
Susannah,
Thank you for responding. Based on your portfolio, your blog would be an excellent platform for discussion of how [redacted]’s work fits within the adult industry as a representative of erotica. Considering your mindful readership, I think this could spark an interesting debate.
We know [redacted] is one of countless “Adult-content” sites available, but his work seems to have an almost playful relationship between Models and Photographer.
Here at the office, we agree that because the models are presented respectfully and there is no degrading content on the site, [redacted] speaks to a certain fantasy style and should be classified as erotica. Is it soft? Hard? What’s the differentiating factor between the two? That’s for you and your readers to decide.
Let me know if that has answered your question, and I'll be happy to answer any others you may have.
[redacted]
Are you offering me compensation?
Unfortunately not, but I thought I would reach out to you because I really do appreciate your perspective and I am a fan of your writing. If you have any interest that would be great.
Thanks,
[redacted]
I think his work is terrible, and he's paying an ad company to ask bloggers to write about him for free. That's what I think. Does that help?
Thank you for your feedback, sorry to bother you.
Invitation to Sunday's Hood By Air show, themed DADDY, a fur-lined daddy paddle. Don't forget your safe word! pic.twitter.com/ooWcS4A4yr
— Guy Trebay (@GuyTrebay) February 14, 2015
Weird shit people are doing online, etc.