I’m no good at promoting myself. Never have been. It’s not that I don’t value my own work–it’s that I’d rather other people like it and do the advertising/word of mouth/buzz for me. I don’t know if it’s modesty that keeps me from pushing my brand, or narcissism that makes me think others should recognize my genius and take care of it, or some bizarre mixture of the two. Or perhaps it’s just laziness–I work very hard and when I’m done, I don’t feel much like spending the rest of my energy on promoting. But whatever the case may be, it’s come to my attention, via a very determined photographer who found me on ModelMayhem and then spent an entire day Google searching everything about me on the internet (this sounds a bit creepy perhaps, but it’s not, he’s actually a fantastic guy), that my body of creative work is actually pretty goddamn extensive. I never have time to do all the things I want to do, but when I had someone else point it out to me, it became clear that I still do a LOT. And have done a lot. And I should really be showing it all off more.
Last year I had a tarot card reading from a dear friend who is excellent at what he does. I wrote down what he told me and let it sit in a stack of papers on my desk for a long time. At the turn of the new year, I unearthed it and glanced over it, and here’s what it says in huge letters at the top:
MAKE YOUR VOICE LOUDER.
It’s become clear that, while sometimes others are kind enough to take up the banner and do my promoting for me, even then they could not possibly be as dedicated to my cause as I am. Hell, even the people I’ve hired to do this (read: literary and entertainment industry agents) can’t be bothered to do it. Last year the team of agents I’d been working with unceremoniously dumped me after they’d decided that I was not, in fact, going to crap out some piece of sparkly magenta chick lit they could stamp some “Sex and the City” reference on and sell, sell, sell. They weren’t interested in promoting me or helping me, just making a dime on me. And I wasn’t interested enough in promoting what I actually was interested in making to do the work myself. And now I’m agentless–very freeing, in its way, but not really ideal.
The point here is, it’s time for me to start taking myself seriously. I write under no fewer than four different names, some in print and some online. I write fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. I do interviews, long thought-pieces, columns, product reviews, DVD reviews, and coverage of events in New York and beyond. I draw, paint, and curate. I do poetry readings live and on video, and translate poetry, and network with people from all over the world to keep it all going. Shit, I can sing. And hell, I even do some modeling for fun. I am a goddamn renaissance woman. But nobody f-ing knows about it.
So here’s my resolution for 2012: MAKE MY VOICE LOUDER. I’m getting a mothafuckin’ website. I’m migrating this blog to it, and I’m putting up photos of my visual work, and I’m linking to my art show, my McSweeney’s column, my articles, my fiction, my poetry, and maybe even my photos. I want it up and running by the beginning March so people interested in the art show can find out as much about me as possible.
So, yeah. RAWR. Expect it.