photo credit: Diegosaurius Rex
So, here we are at the last of my Music Success in Nine Weeks contest posts. It’s been an interesting journey, in some ways a microcosm of the somewhat larger personal and professional transformation I’ve been going through. I have to say it again: I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I was looking for some tips on more effectively marketing my existing back-catalog of instrumental work, as well as a little multimedia-book project I’m launching. I got more than I bargained for.
I’m going to begin with a little wrap-up of what I’ve come away from this with, then segue into focusing on this chapter and what I plan to do with it.
As far as I can tell, there is really only one way forward at this point for independent musicians (and/or other creative types) who want a viable and sustainable way to make a living from our creative work in this brave new digital world as it careens forward into an increasingly chaotic and unpredictable future, and that is to play a bigger game. Take it to the next level.
It used to be simple…
We used to think the road to success was to write good songs, produce a good demo and send it to everyone we could think of that might possibly see the potential… and this would naturally lead to major label record deals, sold out world tours, fame and fortune, that sort of thing.
We used to think that we could focus entirely on our creative work and let the chips fall where they may… let other people handle the business of the music business, we don’t have anything to do with that. It would corrupt our art to think about that stuff, better not to understand it at all. Find someone to handle it, trust that they’re not going to completely rip us off (you listening, Leonard Cohen?) and hope for the best.
Whether this mindset was ever really based on reality is open to question, but there is certainly no question now that it’s now a dead-end street (sadly, one many are still trapped on). Labels, publishers, booking/literary agents, anyone traditionally seen as ‘gatekeepers’ for the content industry, are basically not interested in anything that isn’t a pretty sure bet – if you’re already playing 150 shows a year and selling decent numbers of CDs, or if you have 10,000 people on your mailing list and active subscribers to your blog, these people might take your call.
In other words, not to put too fine a point on it, you need to prove that you don’t actually need them. You need to prove that there’s an audience, ideally one with money to spend. Then you can decide whether it makes sense to work with someone who can kick it up a few notches, or continue with what you’re already doing.
So what do you do if you don’t have all that going on? Short answer? Get it going on.
Ariel’s book gives a roadmap for this, but all of it takes doing. I suspect it will take a lot longer than 9 weeks to put it all into action in any meaningful sense, and certainly to see any massive career-defining results. This process for me has mostly been about understanding just how big the mountain is that I’ve set out to climb… but it’s also been about seeing clearly that it is climbable.
In many ways, there has never been a better time to build a real career as an independent musician/artist/creative, but that does not in the remotest sense mean that it’s an easy thing to do. The tools are there. Most of them are free! But the work still needs to be done. A lot of it. If you think you can get around it, you’re fooling yourself. Probably better to wake up and smell the coffee sooner rather than later. ‘Nuff said.
Continuum programs.
OK. What’s this final chapter about? (Actually, there are some pretty hefty bonus chapters too, but the contest calls for 9 posts about the 9 core chapters, so that’s what we’re doing here…) It’s about continuum programs.
This is the core concept that creative people can embrace that will get us off the roller coaster (new CD this month! A tour! Money! Awesome! No new CD next month… no gigs… no money… not awesome…) and into a stable, sustainable financial situation. The closest we’re ever likely to get to a decent reliable salary. Monthly income from our biggest fans who want access to us and to more intimate, exclusive ‘premium’ content. Creating the demand for this is what most of the other stuff is all about.
This is a scary concept for some reason. I think it plays into our fears about productivity and the pressure to create. Some of our deepest programming about creativity tells us that it is scarce, unpredictable, not something to be conjured at will. The muse is fickle and frequently on holiday, or at least unavailable for comment. How are we going to generate great new content to keep our loyal fans happy every single month? What if we have writer’s block, the idea well runs dry, our dog dies and we can’t get out of bed for two months? (Teaser hint: watch this space for some help with this, coming soon!…)
OK, but even if we can somehow get our ornery artistic side into a solid enough routine to keep the good stuff flowing, who will buy it? Who would commit themselves in advance to paying money every month for stuff they haven’t heard and don’t know if they’ll like?
I guess the answer to that is if they aren’t willing, you aren’t trying hard enough; you haven’t convinced them yet. How do you convince them? Be more awesome. Put more into it. Engage more. Yes, your fans have to be positively rabid to want to pay your salary out of their own – but if they’re rabid enough, they’ll do it, and your job is to make it so. If you’re not up for that, maybe quit while you’re ahead. It’s part of the job description.
What’s the plan?
Still here? Cool. Ariel’s book offers some constructive and creative ideas for various flavors of continuum program. I think many of these are great, but I also think that as in other cases, things apply a little differently to me: I’m not a band, I don’t currently play live much at all, my business model (as it is taking shape) is almost entirely online-driven, and I’m doing a number of things that most of the book’s target audience are likely not doing, for example trying to become a ’serious’ writer of both fiction and non-fiction, as well as a blogger and overall Creative Entrepreneur.
However, despite the fears I outlined above, I’m definitely interested in one or more continuum programs as a component of the overall monetization strategy. Consequently, I’m doing a lot of thinking about what that might eventually look like in my case. While I won’t entirely write off the idea of membership-based access to my own music and other creative work, I am a little more intrigued by the idea of creating a real community around the ideas I’m cultivating for the coming repositioning of this blog and for the Manifesto with which I’ll be launching and evangelizing it.
I suspect that in the end it will be some kind of hybrid of the two. I’m not trying to make this entirely idea-driven, much as I like ideas. I am still very interested in keeping my own brand and music present and kind of ‘entwined’ with the more philosophical and/or practical side.
One of the most important lessons of marketing is that people aren’t interested in you or all the wonderful things you’ve done. They are primarily interested in finding solutions to their problems, and/or in finding themselves in a brand or image or story. Either way, it’s all about them.
My goal is to offer both – real creative solutions people need, along with a compelling story they can find themselves in. And, of course, a soundtrack that inspires… and fascinates.
That concludes my ‘contest’ blog posts, thanks for coming along for the ride… I’ll definitely be continuing with many of the same themes as this develops, and occasionally reporting personal progress as well… meanwhile, what are your thoughts on the notion of a membership site or continuum program? Would you join one if an artist you love set it up? Can you see yourself setting one up?
