Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Techno-promo

by Daddy X


When first presented with this technology topic, I figured I’d have little to talk about, considering the hide-the-keppie-in-the-sand approach that I’ve taken thus far when it comes to self-promotion. Perhaps hanging with you guys, some digital knowledge may rub off on me. (Have I ever told you how much I like digitally rubbing off?)

I have trouble formatting a submission by myself, can’t use track changes without hopelessly fucking up the manuscript, and had to return my ‘smart’ phone because it was too smart for my sorry ass. But I’m about to change all that.

In previous enterprises such as the bar, restaurant and antique businesses I’ve been part of, I had relied on now antiquated methods like business cards, mailers, newspaper reviews, word of mouth and personal contact to spread my name and build a reputation. I was blessed with a gift of gab and found I could handle myself in a range of situations, from convincing a belligerent drunk to leave the bar to speaking on collectible antiquities before groups like the Rotary, Commonwealth Club and American Association of University Women, among others. I’ve made ancient history presentations to 6th graders at local schools and conducted adult education classes on classical and tribal arts. Too bad an erotica writer can’t rely on such visible promotion venues.

These days, when it comes to visibility, I’ve done my best to attend every erotica writer’s event (classes, readings, erotic art exhibits, etc.) occurring in the SF bay area, and have made valuable contacts over the five or so years that I’ve been writing in the genre. It’s worked well so far; after all, I was asked to join this prestigious group of intellectuals and I’ve recently been dubbed permanent ERWA Storytime editor, after serving a couple of stints in that position for flash fiction. But as we all know, the deeper one gets into an endeavor, the more it entails. Guess I’m gonna have to get more techno-hip.

In a step to right these inadequacies, I’ve signed up for a class with M. Christian (“Sex Sells. How to Write and Sell Erotica”) in Oakland Ca. on April 10. Hopefully I’ll learn something about modern day selling of one’s self. If not, at least I’ll meet some new folks and find out what they’ve been up to.














   

7 comments:

  1. Sounds good. I often envy Bay Area peeps for all the opportunities there, and for the area itself, which I loved long ago (I lived in Oakland form '66-'69--Interesting times, in more than one sense.) On the other hand, maybe I'm mostly nostalgic for my not-wasted-enough youth. And I'm firmly rooted in semi-rural New England.

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    1. I'll say they were interesting times. I got to SF from New Jersey in '68. Isn't there some kind of Asian curse that says "May you live in interesting times"?

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  2. I, too, am totally jealous of the stuff going on in the Bay Area (though I do get to a fair number of events here in New England, so I can't complain too much). Good luck with the class! I hope you learn lots of good stuff, and I will attempt to contain my jealousy that you get to meet M. Christian in person...

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  3. Daddy,

    The gift of gab, as you put it, is a far more valuable commodity than tech knowledge. The latter you can learn. The former is a product of your heredity and your history.

    Enjoy the class. Chris is a trip!

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  4. I'm sure lucky to be where I am. Lots of writer's things going on hereabouts. Yes, am looking forward to meeting Mr. Christian. These erotica writers events often draw a wild and interesting crowd. And yes, Lisabet. This mouth of mine has gotten me out of (and into :>) lots of stuff.

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  5. I give credit to the climate of the Bay Area for its sexy vibe. The dry cold of winters here and dry heat of summers here on the Canadian plains can inspire sex too -- but only indoors where we can be artificially kept at a temperature comfortable for humans. (Oh, that could have been my take on technology.) Have fun, Daddy X.

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  6. San Francisco. We never get that stuff where I live. You;re very lucky.

    Garce

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