A Letter to My Readers
Letters from Exile #8
Dear Readers of my Words,
When I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an adventurer and a teller of stories. (Okay, that's not exactly true, I also wanted to be an astronaut, a mad scientist , an elf , a talking polar bear , and a dragon rider - but in terms of the real life job I wanted - I never really wavered.) As I got older, I excelled in writing and composition courses. I wrote for school papers when I could. I took a job as a newspaper delivery boy because it got me closer to those words. I read all the time. Even as a little kid, I had a huge pile of books either already read or waiting to be read 📚.
I enjoyed art and all kinds of creativity but mostly I enjoyed being outside, seeing new things, and experiencing new ways of doing things so I could write about them. And did I mention that I read? A lot. All the time. Anything I could get my hands on.
I learned from the books I read. They shaped my world. I didn't have role models in real life but I had the stories of Piers Anthony, the Lives of Lazarus Long, the philosophy of R. Buckminster Fuller, the Beats, Jack London, Mark Twainand all his characters. And so many more…
So - I'm a reader 📖. Not just a writer but a reader. Even if I don't read as much as I used to. I've read recently that almost none of us do. Our brains have been somewhat reshaped by the attention economy and the constant dopamine fixes we all get from technological life. It's weird but true.
The Bad Timing of Everything
It's another issue of bad timing in my life. Newspapers died 💀, magazines died, reporting became corporate, the internet offered some brief hope but blogging died, writing about travel and adventures changed. It's not just me, another thing I read recently broke it down as sort of being inherent in the life-cycle of GenX - those of us born between about 1965 and 1985. I realize 1985 infringes on some people who define themselves as Millennials, but I have met enough of you to say with certainty - we're of the same generation. Born analog and slowly turned digital. Born in an era that was as different from now as the era we were born in was from the 1890s.
Regardless of generation, I write for people who lived through the analog to digital transformation and who can recognize what we've lost. I'm not saying one is better than the other - but I'm saying we lost some extremely valuable cultural aspects of our civilization and we should think about how to get those back.
The Numbers Don't Lie
And that brings me to something else. I guess when I say 'my readers' I mean people who have read my work from the 1990s when I was 'Rambling Man' in a weekly entertainment newspaper to my Vagobond travel blog to the present date when I am writing about AI, the Trumpification of America, and still developing fiction. You are not a huge demographic. Based on the sales of the more than twenty-five books I've written, the traffic on my websites, the engagement metrics on my social media accounts, and on this Indignified Substack newsletter - there have been at most a few hundred peoplewho have paid to own one of my books.
The newspaper had a big readership back in 1997 but I don't suppose I still have any readers from that era. My travel blog stopped getting traffic around the time of COVID. My Discord server has 266 people in it but only about ten active in the past month. On this site (which is only a month old) the stats are pretty dismal:
📊 Current Stats: • 25 total subscribers (21 free, 4 paid) • $519 annual revenue = $43.25/month • Views declining (-2,364 vs prior 30 days) 📉 • Zero new subscribers from any recent posts • Zero engagement (0 comments, 0 likes across all posts) 🦗
And yet - I committed to this for a year, so I will keep going. I'm thinking of it a little bit like a validation experiment.
For the past twenty-five years, I've lived my life outside of the American capitalist norm. During that time I've lived in four countries 🌍, traveled to more than fifty, and somehow managed to not only pay for my own life but to take care of a daughter and a wife (while we were married). I've struggled to build systems that make all this possible and used my time to do what I want and to some extent to refine my lifestyle so that I could have more of my time.
I bought this house in Japan 🏠 and am writing in it now. I've been living in it for a year. My teenage daughter is here visiting over the summer. This will be her house someday, at least that's my plan.
But here's the thing, Dear Readers.
When I look at the numbers - I've failed as a writer. I've literally written millions of words. I've published more than twenty books. I've created worlds and compelling characters, but my guess is that there will only be about twenty people who will read this. One of them is my mom 👋 (Thanks Mom! You've always been my biggest supporter) but it probably won't be my siblings, my cousins, my aunts or uncles, or most of my friends in this more than half century of life. I'll share this on all the social media channels, but I get zero engagement on most things I share. The sad truth is that no one is interested in what I'm writing.
Is it good? Yeah. I think it's good.
Is it useful? Mostly, I try to delve into meaningful topics whether I am writing fiction or non-fiction.
Is it compelling? If it is read, discussed, thought about - yes. But it won't be. At least not if things happen as they usually do.
Is it marketed well? No. It's not.
So here I am. Doing what I've always done and failing.
I don't know why, Dear Readers. I don't know why I do it nor why I am failing at it. I've tried marketing in many different ways, but somehow I simply don't connect.
The $1,200 Truth
I started to understand a bit of what is wrong recently. I wrote an anthology with six other writers. It was really good. My literary agent was one of the co-editors and co-writers. Five other people I've become friends with or worked with in the past few years were onboard with it. All great writers. We ran a Kickstarter to publish it. We set a modest goal of $1000.
Most of that goal, Dear Readers, came from you. I reached out individually to every person I've ever had a connection with and am still in contact with. I wasn't begging people to give me money, I was asking people to buy a book, support a project that I worked on for three years, to give us a chance at success.
Out of all the people I reached out to or shared with - it was reshared by a half-dozen or so (thanks Mom 💪). The project was backed by twenty-five people, most of whom were people I individually emailed or messaged. I'm astoundingly grateful to them (you). Every one of you. I can't wait to get the book into your hands (it's coming soon). I can't blame people for not backing it or resharing it - some of the writers we worked with didn't bother resharing it or backing it either. If I hadn't aggressively reached out to everyone I know, the project wouldn't have reached the $1000 goal. I know a lot more than twenty-five people. For a week, I was relentless.
By the time the campaign ended, I had an uncomfortable truth.
When you take into account everyone I know, I have a value of about $1200 total. That's what I'm worth to my collective network.
I didn't want to admit that. I didn't want to look that in the face. I didn't want to look at how many people didn't even give me the ten seconds it would have taken to reshare, let alone the ten minutes it would have taken to write something heartfelt and have a deep and meaningful impact. I've given away hundreds of books through the years. I've always asked the people I give them to one thing - please leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. They always promise they will. They almost never do.
It makes such a huge difference. I don't want to harass people and harangue them to help me and yet that's what it would take. For the longest time I thought it was because my writing was bad - but that's not it. That's not it at all.
I've obviously built the wrong kind of networks. If you're reading this, you are in the network I want to be a part of. If you're not - well 🤷
I'm not a bad person. I'm not a bad friend. I'm not a bad relative. Through the years, I've supported every creative project friends have put together. I've liked Facebook pages for businesses I have no interest in. I've backed books I have no desire to read. I've left reviews and more. I've sent referrals. I have never understood why I don't get that back.
To You, Dear Readers
And let's be clear, Dear Readers. If you are reading this, you are the most valuable kind of friend and ally. You are exactly who I long to connect with, to help, to take vacations with, to have a long chat with. Thank you Dear Readers. Thank you for being here with me.
I'm going to post a share button below - can you please hit it and share this with your network? Share with your mother 👩, share with your Facebook group, share with your cousin, your coworkers or your dog's groomer 🐕? Please?
And now, if you haven't already can you please subscribe? You can be a free subscriber or if you want to help me grow and support this ongoing experiment in living outside of the norm, you can become a paid subscriber. I will do everything in my power to make it worth your while - at this point, if you are a paid subscriber that $8 a month means more to me than you can possibly imagine. I'm not asking for an expensive latte ☕ or a meal 🍽️, I'm asking you to spend around twenty-five cents per day to make my life's work feel like it has meaning. Seriously.
I love you, Dear Readers ❤️. Seriously. Thank you so much for reading my words for making my life have some sort of meaning. Comment if you have thoughts - I promise I'll respond to every single one.Thank you.
~CD
Share this post if it resonated with you. Subscribe if you want to follow along with this experiment that is my actual life.
Shared, and shared. Not sure how much it will help, but your awesomeness should be heard/read/seen/smelled. Small correction though, you definitely do not have 0 likes and 0 comments!
Thanks Mark. I’m honored by your attention. Truly.