Throwing an immersive experience for my book event (while trying to not throw up)

Self-promotion vs. my nightmares of over-exposure

Image by Haru Jaysan from Pixabay

Hi, fam! Guess what?! I’m hosting an event for my book next week, and the book isn’t even finished!

Am I insane? Yes! Sadistic? Possibly ;-)

To mitigate the insomnia I will experience every day leading up to it, I pinky-swore with myself not to promote it. But my friend, singer and sound person, Marian Call, suggested that I create a Facebook event.

So I did, and now I want to throw up. I haven’t felt this way since my second marriage when hundreds flew in and gathered to celebrate.

I didn’t actually want a big wedding. I didn’t actually want to PROMOTE my unfinished book. I just wanted everyone to read it! 

But now, do I even want that? Can’t I just be Banksy famous, hiding behind a name and creating groundbreaking art without turning myself into a “brand”?

One of the more depressing days of my life was when I was told that to sell a memoir, I had to build a platform. I had to build this brand starring ME!!! I had to sell myself and get likes, follows, and shares on social media. I had to be Popular.

Reader, I spent 40 YEARS unlearning the need to be liked.

40 years unlearning how to be a people-pleaser.

40 YEARS unlearning to hitch my self-worth and self-love on other’s love for me.

It took me 40 years to get to this point, and now I have to try to be loved again—just like in fifth grade when I ran for Class Vice President and lost.

I don’t want to campaign for votes and hearts. I’m not sure I even want fame! Or maybe I want to be famous, but how Banksy is famous. Undercover famous.

Like how people think performers are extroverts. Most performers I know are introverts. That’s why they become performers. Because the stage is safe, the dialogue scripted, the performance rehearsed. You can turn the spotlight on and off. I am a performer and introverted. I like to hide in dark clothing in my house with all the lights off.

To sell a memoir, you must promote yourself. Shouting about yourself is embarrassing. Asking to get paid is embarrassing. Speaking our truth, exposing our rawness is embarrassing. And yes, I still have dreams of taking my clothes off while shouting from the rooftops, “Look at me!” I know

Mesa Fama

knows what I mean when I say “vulnerability hangover.”

It is scary, uncomfortable, and embarrassing to ask people to come and listen to us tell our stories. I was taught NOT to talk about myself. Early on, I learned to keep quiet, as talking became dangerous. Sometimes, it was downright impossible because I couldn’t speak the language of those around me.

But telling a story can also be thrilling. When I told my rapper origin story at Mudrooms—the Juneau, Alaska version of The Moth—the experience was so empowering I joined the Mudrooms board right after. (P.S. Ping me if you ever want to tell a story at Mudrooms!)

Me, trusting the process. Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

Last year, I applied for a grant to write my memoir. “Why not include a performance in your proposal?” my mom suggested, “since you are a performer, after all.”

Part of my story is about immersing myself in the dancehall reggae and hip-hop worlds. When I posted on Instagram about telling my rapper origin story at Mudrooms, I was called out for cultural appropriation, even though I had stopped rapping in 1999, long before anyone had heard the term “cultural appropriation.” (Back then, no one had called out Beastie Boys or Eminem for rapping either, but that’s a topic of debate I, as a white person, don’t feel qualified to address.) So, I proposed a public performance that would include local artists representing the cultures I write about.

I won the grant and have since been writing, revising, and swapping manuscripts with my fantastic writing group members. Now, all’s I have to do is put on a show. I have hired three different rappers and dancers, plus friends to do sound and video. My friend who runs Alaska Robotics, a local bookstore, agreed to let us use his space. Then I wrote about how I and others are utilizing all the senses to stage creative, immersive experiences book launches.

If you’re in Juneau, I hope you can come. Here’s a poster:

There’s no charge, but seating is limited, so please RSVP if you plan on coming.

Now tell me, have you done a book launch? Experienced vulnerability hangovers? How did you keep from grinding down all your teeth? Paging

Seth Lorinczi

!

Xo,

Summer

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