On Marketing

  • This piece was written over a year ago. It may no longer accurately reflect my views now, or may be factually outdated.
  • This piece was originally written for my old site, Oh What? Oh Jeez! As such, it may not have transferred over properly and some images and links might be broken (and, to a lesser extent, my writing from years ago is about 80% run-on sentences).

If you build it, [they] will come

The Voice, Field of Dreams

I am not a born marketer. This can be best demonstrated with a case study: an advert for my shirt-making services that I posted on my Facebook account.

As you can see, this is perhaps not the very best method of getting people to purchase your goods and/or services (having said that, I did make a few tens of pounds off of my shirt work, so maybe everything I’m saying is wrong). For one, there is far too much writing; according to a statistic I’m about to make up but which sounds about accurate, the average person looks at adverts for two seconds. Whilst I do try to tailor my output to the speed-reading community, I must also be mindful of other, inferior human beings.

Another issue is the use of the asterisked aside to explain the terms of the blowjob. Most people ignore small print, and this could disastrously lead me to receiving sexual favours from customers ineligible for such an offer. There is also the risk of making the potential customer feel patronised by use of such terms as you popular attractive person. Watch television for a few minutes and you will realise that all of the real advertisers treat their audience with nothing but contempt, and well they should; these people are still watching television when the internet is widely-accepted as a thing that exists.

The final flaw, and one that is easy to overlook, is that there is no set exchange rate between GBP and fellatio, and that a thrifty female/victorious dueller could claim as many shirts as they fancied and I would have no recourse available.

Like so many other things, however, I don’t believe my inability to market successfully impedes my ability to succeed at everything I do. This, too, can be proved via a case study, in this case the sales of the hit book A Tale of Two Relatives, which I co-wrote along with the rest of my (now defunct) post-artform art collective CSX.

The only real advertising this book received was a post on the official CSX Facebook page upon its release, and word-of-mouth amongst people I know. Despite this it had, as of the end of September 2013, sold 46 copies across three different countries, been borrowed on Kindle three times and made a grand total of £14.53; modest figures, but for a comedy incest porn fantasy novel I feel they were better than could be hoped. Well over half of these sales are from the US, a country in which I do not live and know nobody who would know about this book. This means that these 49 Americans, Englishmen (and a German) have somehow, serendipitously and as if destined all along to do so, come across the book listing on Amazon, read the blurb, perhaps browsed the preview and thought yes, this is something I shall buy/borrow.

Probability dictates that eventually, somebody will find whatever you have to offer. I could write a tell-all memoir, bury it in a cave somewhere, and eventually some hiker, homeless person or bear would stumble upon it and peruse its contents, possibly paying for a copy afterwards and becoming a loyal fan. Finding things that haven’t been advertised to you almost gives them a certain charm, whereas I assume it is universally understood that seeing an advert for a product or service, especially one explicitly targeted towards your demographic, is a casus belli for blinding disgust at the very foundations of capitalism and the economic system.  Money spent on advertising is money that could be spent on anything else, like anti-advertising lobbying agencies.

I mean yes, if you’re just in it for the dosh then you may want to advertise your stuff and get more than 49 people experiencing it, but then you’re a filthy sellout and should feel ashamed of yourself.

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