More Arts Marketing Strategy

I just talked by phone with my partner from the Strategic Planning for artists seminar--a conversation that re-inspired me about my work, as if that were currently needed.

During the Creative Capital/NC Arts Council workshop, we paired off into buddies to continue to stay in touch and encourage each other. Of course those conversations work as deadlines too: I want to have some progress to report.

My partner Bridgette Lacy works a few blocks away from me in downtown Raleigh; she's writes features about authors and others for the News & Observer, and is finishing revisions on a novel.

We found that we'd taken similar steps since returning to Raleigh from the conference a week ago. We both began to ORGANIZE RUTHLESSLY.

I'm whittling down my desk pile of stray things-to-do. This usually feels like procrastination; now that issue is not worrying me. Getting my mind and desk organized feels NECESSARY.

I also made a decision about an offer to teach at a university. I'd been agonizing over it, because the school is a Christian evangelical one and I knew in my heart that I wasn't really a fit. I'm a Christian among other things; I and my upcoming novel COBALT BLUE take a serious interest in voodoo. END OF AGONIZING: I said no and didn't look back.

Bridgette--well, her story is hers to tell and she promises me she's going to tell it here pretty soon. But you can rest assured that she is on a roll.

And she left me a bit of wisdom from the weekend that I had forgotten. Here it is:

BIG DREAMS, SMALL STEPS, WRITE IT DOWN

That probably doesn't need a lot of explanation, but here's a bit anyway. Set your goals as large as you can imagine. Break them into the smallest possible steps. Write the steps down and then tackle them, tidbit by tidbit. The power of those little steps begins to accrue, thus beginning a CAREER GROWTH SPURT.


A personal BOLDNESS ADDENDUM: This weekend, as a graduate of a class called Singing for Non-Singers, I sang a solo at the talent show at my husband's office party. I had had nothing to drink but a lemon-lime soda. And I was fairly at ease.

My husband Bob Dick is a psychologist in a practice with 31 other psychotherapists. I had learned a song in the class called "Be Gone, Dull Care" that I thought was appropriate for this group. I told them it was an ancient psychotherapy song from the British Isles. People were very kind and encouraging to me, even though I had to follow a terrific rendition of "Bobby McGee."