Writing
Stripping Off The Bulletproof Vest
October 27, 2015
Here’s what I learned TOTALLY by accident. Personal story sells.
When I came out of Harvard, I began to compile some of the personal essays I’d produced in grad workshops. These essays eventually turned into a memoir about my years living in Iran with a staunch Muslim husband, and all the fun I had with that. Not.
Years went by. I eventually pitched my project to some big literary agents at a prestigious writing conference and here’s what happened: I got zero interest. You know the sound you used to hear when the TV stations stopped broadcasting at 1 a.m. ? (Shit, I’m really dating myself here.)
Well, it was like that.
I was met with soul-chilling indifference because I couldn’t pitch my way out of a paper bag AND I was a complete unknown without a platform. The kind of platform the agents were interested in, by the way, was a following of 30,000+. To a traditional publishing house, platforms represent real people who know the author well enough to instantly buy the book. Traditional publishing houses are all over instant purchasers like white on rice. It saves them tons of marketing money and effort. Go figure.
So, I started a blog, THIS blog, with the sole intent of building an audience for my book, creating a platform. I wrote about the books I’d read that changed my life; and running, which had transformed me as well. Over time I began to write about the things I thought about all the time—my need for approval, aimlessness, the all or nothing mindset, the stuff that has plagued me all my life as the child of an alcoholic. (There’s a reason a girl like me ended up in a place like Iran.)
And what happened was this: the more personal the stories I told, the more I revealed about myself, the more unsolicited business I began to attract. The more I admitted to being a hot mess on occasion (I’m being generous here. Occasional, my ass), the more people came to me asking for my help or opinion. I suddenly had people wanting me to coach them on stuff like relationships, and self-acceptance, and telling the truth.
Instead of becoming a coach first, then using my writing to attract clients; I was a writer who began to inadvertently attract clients, catalyzing my first business.
What I learned from this experience—attracting clients through my writing—is that honesty, vulnerability, and authenticity sells. Personal stories sell, even if you don’t intend them to. And when I use the word sell, I’m not just talking about an exchange of money, the ability to earn a living, I’m talking about something much, much bigger. I gained influence, personal power, and a sense of leadership. (Heady stuff for a girl who couldn’t lead her self.)
See, I didn’t set out to attract people. I only wanted to get clear for myself, to share my insights with others so that they might avoid the pitfalls I’d encountered along the way, to create something lasting and beautiful. That was my WHY for writing a memoir in the first place, and then, eventually, my blogs.
Here’s the thing: The more personal you are, the more vulnerable you are, the more likeable you are. The more people trust you. The more people want to do business with you. Or spend time with you. Because, if you can be real with them, if you can drop the posturing and pretense, they can do the same. Our job, not just as entrepreneurs, but as human beings, is to build trust and credibility. To be likeable. To let people know us, the real us, so they can determine if we are relevant to them. That has to show up in our writing, and in our day to day interactions with others.
Today, you will be met with an opportunity to tell the truth about who you are and what you really think. Will you present that bulletproof front, or will you risk being vulnerable and real?