I met with my small business consultant today, and she and I discussed that illusive and bizarre creature, my brand. She suggested I come up with a handful of key words that describe aspects of me that I want to emphasize or get across in everything I put out into the world — not things that I’m not, not things I would have to pretend to be, but things about me I think will help sell my work and get people interested in me.
So I jotted down some words.
Bottom line? I’m a dark and creepy clown.
I’m not sure if that’s great niche branding or just fucking strange.
That’s me, though. Once I thought about it, that’s me. I don’t do death jokes and I don’t think horror is funny, that’s not it at all, but I’m listening to a radio show about suicide and how every single survivor who’s jumped from the San Francisco Bridge knew it was a mistake the moment they realized it was too late, and I’m thinking, “Hm. Interesting.” I mean, I know that has all kinds of implications for people who are suicidal, and I know that show probably made some people cry, but I just found it interesting. Fascinating to know the minds of other people.
And then I do my monkey dance and stagger around like I’m a lot more drunk than I really am.
Those are two of the things I find the most relevant and the most worthwhile in life: the serious shit, the dark shit, the death and dying shit; but also not taking anything too seriously, because really, the world is going to be evaporated by the sun one day, and who will care what you did last week when that happens? Might as well have a laugh and enjoy it.
I was pondering my bizarrely polar interests when I suddenly thought, “Hey, Shakespeare wrote two things: comedies and tragedies. I’m not in bad company here.”
And then I instantly felt the shame of hubris. I hope I’m a good writer, and I only plan to work on my skills and get better, but Shakespeare I most certainly am not and do not aspire to be. (Or not to be.)
Still, I am not in bad company at all here. Although Will tended to relegate both story types to their own fenced-in yards and I like to let them play together, I think I fail to see any real problem. I like dark stories, and I like funny things. If we can ponder the deep and morose trials of all of humanity, then let us do so, and with all gravity. But if we can watch an episode of Mr. Bean afterward, even better yet.
And the major comments I’ve gotten back on my vampire story so far? “I had nightmares.” “It was scary, but not too scary, you know?” “That one part made me cry.” “I could hear your sense of humor through the whole story.” “Ian is funny!” “I loved how it made me laugh really hard on one page, then made me really sad on the next.”
Dark and creepy clown.
I can live with that.
