Blue and gold knight by Debbi Long

I’m a big advocate of being a gentle online champion. Not slaying dragons and wielding swords but following a code of chivalrous behaviour.

Why should I champion others?

There are two major reasons.

Firstly, it’s the generous and right thing to do.

You can find incredible content on the web. And I mean incredible.

Stuff that makes the mainstream media look shabby, clichéd and badly done. These days I often read articles in newspapers and think, “hmmm, so-and-so’s blog did this topic so much better.”

And people are out there giving away this great content for free.

If you read, listen to or watch something that resonates with you, the very least you can do is thank the person who made it. And then retweet it for them. Pay them with eyeballs. OK, not actual eyeballs because that would be weird. And probably illegal.

Secondly, being a champion is the smart, strategic thing to do.

If you’ve spent time showing up at someone’s site, commenting, engaging and being an advocate for them, they are far more likely to give you a bit of hawt internet loving in return.

I read somewhere that only one in ten reader leave a blog comment and my own numbers back that up. So if you comment on someone’s stuff, you’ve just made yourself stand out. If you consistently leave insightful, considered comments, then you’ve just lit yourself up like a delightful sparkly Christmas tree.

For example, if you email me cold, I will be polite and I will try to respond to you. But if you’re asking me for a favour that doesn’t benefit me and I don’t have a clue who you are, then you’d better hope it’s an interesting one!

if you regularly comment here or talk to me on Twitter, I’m far more likely to go that extra mile for you simply because you’re already on my radar. I won’t be rude if I don’t know you but it’s far easier to grab my attention if you’ve made the effort to get to know me first.

This is just human nature. It’s the old ‘who you know’.

So how do I do this champion thing?

Find the people you admire online and love on them hard. Tweet their stuff, link to them, from your blog, comment on their posts, podcasts and videos. If you use their photos or art, link to them.

See. That was easy, wasn’t it.

Of course, like many things in life, there’s the wholesome-apple-pie way to do this and the ‘please don’t call me again or I shall contact the police’ way.

The right way to be a champion

Good
Give your loyalty to those who deserve it – the talented, the wonderful, the people who brighten your day. It doesn’t matter if they’re already internet famous. Go on merit.

Bad
Sucking up to people just because they could help your career. Don’t do it. It’s sleazy and people pick up on it.

If you’re only being nice to me because you think I could help you, you’re going to make me deeply uncomfortable and embarrassed. And I’m British, so if you embarrass me, I’ll pretend you don’t exist. Politely.

Also, are you kidding? I’m nobody – I’m famous to about 5 people in Arkansas!

Good
Focus on your audience, not theirs.

Instead of trying to get your stuff in front of the other person’s audience (by leaving spammy comments, for example), focus on bringing their good stuff to your lovely people.

Bad
Don’t be needy.

Needy often manifests as nagging. I’ve had people do this to me and nothing put me off quicker.

If it seems like the person is ignoring you, don’t push it, just carry on being an advocate. Maybe they’ll get to liking you, maybe they won’t. It doesn’t matter because you’re not doing it to be liked, you’re doing it because you like them. Getting on their radar is a wonderful by-product but if it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t make either of you a bad or worthless person. Leave your ego at the door.

Useful Resources

In weird coincidence land, Mars Dorian covered this technique the exact same night that I wrote this.

Elizabeth Potts Weinstein from Live Your Truth explains why seduction is the best way to pitch to her in this video post.

This article on Facebook faux pas makes a lot of good points.

Get more help
If you’d like more information about building your online presence, check out the free resources section.

I am also available for online consulting if you need one-on-one help.

Leave A Comment

How have you been a champion? Has it brought you success and useful connections? Got any tips? Tell all in the comments…

Blue and gold knight by Debbi Long I’m a big advocate of being a gentle online champion. Not slaying dragons and wielding swords but following a code of chivalrous behaviour....

When I was about 15, I went to a school fancy dress party as Cleopatra. In a long halterneck dress that tied at the back of the neck.

And I wore it without a bra because I wasn’t very well-endowed at the time and besides, I didn’t own a backless bra.

And I did that thing that you should never do when you are wearing a halterneck dress without a bra and are slow-dancing with teenage boys. I tied it in a bow, instead of a ninja death knot with 15 safety pins.

Aaaaannnnddddd I think you can see where this story is going, yes?

I danced for several minutes before I realised that everyone was pointing and laughing hysterically. And I wondered why. And then I looked down.

People, I am here to tell you that you cannot, in fact, die of embarrassment. You can certainly WISH that you could die of embarrassment but you will not die just because everyone laughs at you.

……………………………………

Which is why you’ll find me immortalised on the sweet and funny ‘Fearless Karaoke’ video that Natalie Peluso made to launch her new site, Sing Your Truth. I’m the one making flirty eyes at the camera.

Yep, I jumped in and videoed myself singing. Even though I was just getting over a sore throat. Even though my honey forgot to tell me that the headphones he lent me were noise-cancelling ones, so I couldn’t hear my own voice and it turns out that’s Not A Good Thing when you’re singing (many thanks to Natalie for using some of my more tuneful bits in the video). Even though singing in public is nerve-racking.

But I did it anyway because let’s face it, once you’ve accidentally flashed your entire school as a teenager*, everything else kind of pales into insignificance, even singing badly on the internet.

Kudos to my fellow fearless karaoke-ers and huge big congratulations to Natalie – I know the site is going to be just fantastic. If you don’t already know Natalie’s previous writing on The Tiny Soprano, you should go over and check out her archives, there’s lots of great stuff about motivation, money and fearlessness.

……………………………………

*This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me, although it is pretty high up the list.**

**You know what makes this story even more embarrassing? It was only when I was typing this out that it occurred to me that my dress probably hadn’t fallen down by accident. Sigh. I am slow sometimes.

OK, lovelies, dare you share? Let’s have your thoughts on the scary power of embarrassment in the comments. Or you can compliment me on my fine singing voice – I am entirely open to flattery, even if you’re lying.

When I was about 15, I went to a school fancy dress party as Cleopatra. In a long halterneck dress that tied at the back of the neck. And I...

A three minute video I made about the importance of bravery.

Inspired by Natalie, The Tiny Soprano and her soon-to-launch site, Sing Your Truth.

A three minute video I made about the importance of bravery. Inspired by Natalie, The Tiny Soprano and her soon-to-launch site, Sing Your Truth. If you love it, share it!...

Sadly the lovely people at Make & Meaning have decided to call it a day, so I’m going to be reprinting the two guest articles I wrote for them. Here’s the first one:

The Wisdom Of Mistakes

Image by Orin Zebest, via Flickr

An artist who is afraid to make mistakes is an artist who is stuck.

I used to volunteer to teach art at a local primary school. Sadly, by the age of 10, the majority of children had already slipped so far into perfectionism that their ability to make art was suffering. They had a very clear peeking order of who was good at art and who wasn’t and their definition of what constituted ‘being good at art’ seemed to revolve around not making mistakes.

So I devised a little exercise.

I asked them to paint a quick, colourful picture and while it was drying, I led a class discussion. I asked them whether they thought artists made mistakes? They universally agreed that if you were an artist that meant you didn’t make many mistakes and the better you were, the fewer mistakes you would make. I explained that, in fact, the very opposite was true and that someone who wasn’t willing to make mistakes wouldn’t be a very good artist. I explained that ALL artists constantly made mistakes but that they simply saw mistakes as potential opportunities.

Then, I asked them to tear up their paintings.

Image by milomingo, via Flickr

They stared at me in horror and disbelief. ‘Rip them up’, I urged, ‘rip them up!’ Clearly still believing they would get into trouble, a few of the braver ones made tentative little rips. ‘That’s brilliant, do more’, I encouraged. Suddenly most of the class understood that they really did have permission to destroy their work and things dissolved into gleeful giggles and wild tearing. After several minutes of creative mayhem, I asked them to stop, take a few minutes to calm down and then to re-examine their pile of torn paper with a view to transforming it into a collage. The collages weren’t anything to write home about but it’s still the art lesson of which I’m proudest and in an age of constant exams and teaching to the test, I hope it stuck with at least a few of them.

“Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.”  ~Scott Adams

Imperfection can be the pathfinder that leads us to new places IF we are willing to let go of our ego and put our trust in the wisdom of the work.

New techniques, new directions, new ideas; mistakes open up so many possibilities.

Image by pygment_shots, via Flickr

That tricky yarn that just refuses to work with any knitting pattern – what is it trying to teach you? Patience? Not to buy that colour combination again? Or is it challenging you to come up with a new stitch pattern that will make the most of its variegated repeats?

Is the ceramic glaze that bubbles in the kiln and ‘spoils’ the pot really a disaster? Or can you repeat and refine the process until you no longer have ‘a mistake’ but a unique signature style? What sort of surface are you left with if you sand back the bubbled glaze? Or if you crack the bubbles lightly with a hammer, add another layer of glaze and refire? Can you think of ten different things to try with your ‘ruined’ pot?

The painting that went wrong might lead you to a whole new series of work if you listen to what its telling you.

Ruined pieces often lead to new directions because there’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already used the materials and many of them can’t be reclaimed: the ink won’t go back into the bottle, the paper will never be pristine again. So why not let loose with some wild experimentation – rip it up, overdye it, splash bleach on, paint over it in gesso, turn it inside out and sew beads on it! Baring freakishly bizarre crafting accidents, what’s the worst that can happen? You were going to throw it out anyway.

Image by LittleLexxis, via Flickr

Of course, all artists and craftspeople have their irredeemable failures that are fit only for the bin. The idea that seemed so great inside your head but wasn’t; the new technique that drove you up the wall; the brave attempt that was too far beyond your current skill level: our studios are stuffed with them!

But even these poor ugly objects have value. They were steps along your journey and they may have taught you far more than the pieces that went well.

Perhaps their only message is, ‘hmm, I don’t think woodworking is my thing’. But that is a very valuable lesson: now you have one less craft to master while you search for your ‘right thing’.

Or the lesson might be, “I am bad at this now but I enjoyed the process so much that I’m willing to invest the time, money and energy needed to become better.” And the second lesson might be, “so I shall keep this failed thing and in a year I’ll be able to see how far I’ve come.”

Image by carpocrates, via Flickr

“Creative people make a mess, clean it up and make another mess. There are no mistakes in art only happy little accidents.”  ~Timothy Leonard

So drag out one of your failures (come on, I know you’ve got at least one lurking!) and challenge yourself to see it with fresh enquiring eyes.

Even if it can’t be reworked, experimented with or recycled, hold it in your hands and ask it what it can teach you. Ask yourself why it didn’t work. Try to find some tiny part of it that did work, even if the whole thing is a failure. A particular piece may be beyond saving but it could still hold the answers to your current creative dilemmas.

Don’t listen to your inner critic, listen to the work. What subtle whispers have you ignored because your ego got in the way, loudly declared, ‘that’s rubbish’ and tossed the thing in the corner in disgust?

An artist humble enough to learn from their mistakes is an artist who is moving forwards.

What have you learnt from mistakes and failures? Tell me in the comments…

Sadly the lovely people at Make & Meaning have decided to call it a day, so I’m going to be reprinting the two guest articles I wrote for them. Here’s...

Kirsty Hall: Decaying Boats, Polbain Beach, June 2010

While I was on holiday, I made a point of heading over to Polbain Beach to take some photos. We used to beach-comb here as kids and it’s still a lovely spot. I ate my ice-lolly looking out over the Summer Isles while nearby a man sat on a deckchair outside his camper-van and played his fiddle. It was an absolutely iconic West Highland moment.

Kirsty Hall: Decaying Boats, Polbain Beach, June 2010

The wonderful decaying boats reminded me of this poem by Norman MacCaig.

So Many Summers

Beside one loch, a hind’s neat skeleton
Beside another, a boat pulled high and dry:
Two neat geometries drawn in the weather:
Two things already dead and still to die.

I passed them every summer, rod in hand,
Skirting the bright blue or the spitting gray,
And, every summer, saw how the bleached timbers
Gaped wider and the neat ribs fell away.

Time adds one malice to another one -
Now you’d look very close before you knew
If it’s the boat that ran, the hind went sailing.
So many summers, and I have lived them too.

Norman MacCaig

Kirsty Hall: Decaying Boats, Polbain Beach, June 2010

Talking about it afterwards, I was amazed to discover that my mum had taught in the same school as Norman MacCaig when she was starting out in her teaching career. A canny reminder that many successful creative people have day jobs their entire life.

Kirsty Hall: Decaying Boats, Polbain Beach, June 2010

I knew I had been longing for the West Highlands for years but it was only when I was sitting on this beach, that I felt how much my soul needs this very special place.

Do you need to fill up your creative well? Do you have somewhere special that eases your soul? Tell me about it in comments.

Kirsty Hall: Decaying Boats, Polbain Beach, June 2010 While I was on holiday, I made a point of heading over to Polbain Beach to take some photos. We used to...