Artists Passion

Three nights ago I did a reading at a local bookstore. There were four other authors with me. We all read from our books and then, after answering a few questions, signed copies of our books for both the store and those who came to hear us read and had or did purchase copies of our books. It was wonderful, especially seeing our books on the table and the bookshelves, and with the sticker, Autographed Copy on the front cover. Truly amazing, what any author works toward in her or his efforts to become published.

And yet when the last author had read, and the store moderator opened the question and answer period for those in the audience, the first question asked and that seemed to dominate the discussion from there on out, was one that concerned money. The questioner’s sentences didn’t contain the word money. But her desire for information concerning publicity, specifically, “How do each of you go about publicizing your books?� could not be mistakened for anything else. And rightly so.

Hers was relevant question. Though I must admit, I had come prepared to address comments about my writing process, where I gained ideas for my stories. One member of the audience did raise a topic of this caliber later on, and concerning my book. That same person then gave another author a raving review of the scene the author had read. Again it was wonderful.

And yet I had found myself flubbing, and groping in my effort to answer the audience member’s sincere question about the theme of my story.

Why the difficulty with this question?

It had been so easy, and I could have gone on for hours discussing the comment on publicity, and all with which I am presently engaged to bring attention to my book. I emphasized that I had to play catch-up with my skills on the utilization of the internet toward this ends. One panelist, a gentleman in addressing the question on publicity, and asked of us all, was very direct, “Shameless self-promotion,� he said.

I felt so relieved in hearing his words. It was what I had been trying to say in a round about manner. I, like many, am afraid to see myself as this female author aggressively promoting herself, and her work. But getting copies of my book into the hands of as many readers as possible is my goal. And I am an author who loves to write stories that move people, leave them to ponder, let them know they are not alone in this often dirty, and joy-filled business called, LIFE.

On the surface I, at least came prepared, in my mind’s eye, to discuss the aesthetics of my book, how I crafted the stories, what they meant to me, what it was like writing them. But when presented the opportunity to address this, I stumbled, was ashamed to admit my desire for success. I was caught off guard being myself—revealing this other part of myself that I have secretly discovered, and want to hide.

Why was I dumbfounded when facing this question? More particularly, why do I feel badly about having groped to answer the question on publicity in that I could have talked for hours on end, and that I was experiencing a million ideas going off in my head as other authors added there measure on the subject of publicity, how to increase one’s sales, ultimately making money?

Am I afraid to be a businesswoman as well as an artist? Did I not count on having to do this, and now that I am, and I must admit LOVING it, ashamed of having discovered something, some part of my personality that I never known existed?

Art is like that?

It carries, brings with it a healing force, one that touches not only those who view, read and listen to the artist’s creations, but also heals the wounds of the artist not only in the process of creating her or his masterpiece or disaster, but in the realization of what she or he had once thought not presentable, and with no possibility of ever being shown to outside audiences that would receive it with joy and adulation. That your work is now something that others truly like and want to buy, is amazing, frightening. The artist in this discovery, this awareness, is brought alive and given energy to not only create other masterpieces if only in the minds of their readers and admirers of their work, but more importantly to promote and sell what she or he has already created with greater fervor, and confidence in their chosen mission—to create and to do it with joy.

The ability to promote one’s work, address those who know nothing about you and move them to at least take a look at your work of art, purchase it if they will, and give you feed back, takes enormous strength. Doing this directly relates to one’s ability to practice their art, and create. Publicity is a creation in and of itself. The ability to find ways to present your work in an appealing manner and that draws visitors and buyers, positive reviews, is creativity in its highest form. It is real and human, the success of which makes way for the artist to continue mining the catacombs of her or his imagination and create other works.

My compulsion to write stories is now met with equal desire to see my work in the world, copies of my book in the hands of any and everyone I am shamelessly willing to ask to purchase a copy, and more. The two for are inherently bound, creativity and the ability to promote my artistry which for me is writing stories, not because I am entangled in the process of making money, rather that I am consumed with the process of re-making myself, or more specifically rendering myself available for God or the Universe to re-shape, re-mold, re-create me in the wisdom the divine hands of evolution.

I am not who I was ten years ago. Neither am I the person who sat down to write this blog.

Writing transforms me.

The little girl raised on a southern farm has come a long way. I have matured into a woman willing to ask, and accept what ever the person I ask to consider reading and or buying my book might say. Fear has left me for the moment at least. For in the act of asking I am, quite surprisingly, met more times than not with the response, “Yes.� And that in and of itself is healing.