This is geared towards promoting music, but it should be easy to apply generalize these tips to apply them to most kinds of self-promotion.

1) Find pre-made markets: Promoting a project is very expensive in terms of time. The same way you try to find the most bang for your buck when you buy things, you should find the most efficient ways to spend your time. Rather than try to promote to random people, try to focus on places where people who are likely to like and support my music would be – at live events featuring music similar to my own, on the websites related to similar artists, in places where people into art and creativity in general are likely to gather, etc.

2) Share the process: Art is exponentially more enjoyable and enticing when you are connected to the process in some way. Any time you interact with people, you have a great chance to connect them to your process. Don’t shove it down people’s throats, but encourage them to ask about your project and your creative process. If they are interested in learning more, make sure you tell them more.

3) Give them a taste: You can tell all kinds of people about the stuff you’re working on, but talk is cheap. The best way to get people to see you as an artist isn’t to tell them about your art – it’s to show them your art. If the telling gets someone interested, that interest will quickly get old if there’s nothing more. Make a promo CD, put some free songs online, do what you need to do to make sure you’re putting your art where your mouth is.

4) Be ready for a sale: Not everyone you talk to is going to buy a CD on the spot. Not every visitor to your website is going to order a CD their first time there. Still, some people will want to buy immediately. If they can’t, they may end up forgetting, losing interest, or spending their money on something else in the meantime. You should always be ready for a sale. If I’m on your website and I want to order a CD, I should be able to do it right away. Don’t delay the sale by making me go through some unnecessarily long or complicated process first, make it quick and simple. CDBaby is great for that. Don’t rely on CDBaby though. If we meet in person and I want to buy a CD, don’t make me wait until I have access to a computer to get it and don’t tell me you’ll have copies on you another time. Have it ready.

5) Be easy to find: It’s so frustrating when I google an artist whose performance I enjoyed and nothing comes up. It’s frustrating at first, but then I usually forget about them. Don’t be forgotten. Make sure more info is available for people who seek it out. In this age of information, people should be able to easily find your music and (going back to tip #2) info on your process (i.e. bio, blog, etc.). Try googling yourself to see how easy you are to find.

Yesterday, I went to a reading by William Gibson, a well-known sci-fi author. In her speech, the lady who introduced him mentioned that Gibson is not a techy or anything like that, he learns the technical language he uses in his novels by hanging out with techies. When she said that, it hit me – writers are experience leeches. Artists are leeches. Even as she spoke, I was being a leech. I was sitting in my seat trying to figure out how I could fit Gibson’s speech into a blog entry. I constantly wander through life looking for songs. I look at my experiences and other people’s experiences. Once, a friend voiced concern that another friend was losing herself in a relationship. Now I have a half-finished song from the point of view of someone who’s realized he’s lost his individuality to his relationship. The key lines in the chorus – “All we got is we/I don’t know how that got to be/But now all we got is we.”

I am an experience leech, or even worse, an experience thief. That friend has no idea that her life was the inspiration for a song, and if she heard it, she’d have no idea it had anything to do with her. I asked no permission and gave no warning. Now that I think about it, I’ve been doing this since I first started creating. Around the time that I first started writing poems, I remember someone telling me that as a toddler she had been scared of death. It struck me as odd and interesting that a toddler would have the understanding and the forethought necessary to be able to fear death, so that became the subject of one of my earliest poems.

I guess this is my warning/disclaimer to everyone. Your life may become my art. By sharing any part of your life with me, you are implying your consent to have some part of your life experience to be featured in a song, poem, blog or other creative endeavor. Yes I know this is the sort of unfairly half-assed, obscure disclaimer that most people never read until it’s way too late, but if it works for software companies, it’ll work for me. And I’m not sorry. I’m grateful for every person, thing and event that provides inspiration, but I am not sorry for stealing your experiences and I don’t care that I don’t have permission.

It seems like the majority of artists that I have heard or talked tend to write from their own personal point of view. Many can connect each piece they’ve created to a particular experience or set of experiences in their life. I guess it makes sense that this would be the natural mode of operation for most people, but it never has been for me. Even when I was in ninth grade, just beginning to write poetry and stories, what excited me about writing was the opportunity it gave me to put myself in someone else’s shoes. Back then, my writing obsession was violent criminals. It seemed to me that people constantly wrote them off as simply “crazy” and left it at that. “Crazy” doesn’t explain the thought processes people have, it almost implies that there is none. I figured even if the logic is wrong, there must be some sort of logic, so I set out to try to figure it out in several stories that were written from the points of views of murderers. I remember a classmate of mine who admired my writing and began writing his own violent stories. I never liked his stories because he wrote about violence for the sake of violence, and that was obvious from reading them. Typical teenage male attraction to delinquency was not what was behind my writing.

Fast forward a bunch of years, and I realize I’m doing the same thing. I still generally don’t write from my own point of view. I constantly and naturally create characters and then try to figure out what they think and feel. Even when a song is inspired by my own emotion or experience, I create an extreme caricature out of it. For example, in the song Get my Gun on Reverse Psychology (Click to check out the lyrics), my character is observing the problematic aspects of our modern society and battling with the contradictory desires it arouses – one to help make things better, and another to protect himself from the messed up world. Sometimes trying to help others can affect you negatively, whether it’s by putting you in physical danger, inconveniencing you, or overtaxing your resources. This is definitely something I have battled with, but for the song, I took it to the extreme. My character is so conflicted that he is willing to wield a weapon to help uplift the world, not recognizing that in doing so, he is becoming a threat to that which he wants to save.

My interest in imagining different perspectives has not decreased since ninth grade, and now I also feel like extreme caricatures are so much more effective for exploring emotions and ideas than more realistic characters. I could have talked about my own inability to balance philanthropy with supporting myself, but I think the picture that Get my Gun paints is far more compelling and universal. The thing is that my life is complex and arbitrary in many ways. If I’m trying to make a point or discuss a particular idea, it seems to me that my relatively unfocused life has a lot of extra stuff that does not belong in the conversation. Taking things to the extreme is kind of like stripping away the fat. If I want to write a song about being disappointed, I might start with my own experiences of the feeling, but then remove any opposing feelings. I have been disappointed before, but I have also had my hopes fulfilled before – but in the song, there is just disappointment.

That’s all I have to say about that.

I haven’t been doing much creative writing lately. When I’m working on a major project like an album, I have to force myself to focus my creativity on that project. Otherwise, I end up constantly starting new songs instead of refining and finishing the ones I already have. I don’t stop making new stuff, completely, but I do it a lot less frequently. Well, the album is almost done now, so I’m free to create again.

I just finished writing something, and I feel good about it. That’s normal – I always feel good when I finish making something. I never really paid attention to the feeling, but today I am paying attention. I think I’m high. Seriously, the good feeling is physical. It’s emotional too – I feel happy – but there is a physical element to it too. I’m not quite sure how to describe it . . . I feel light in my chest, I feel strong, much more energetic than I was before I wrote. I’m wondering if any scientific studies have been done on this type of thing. I think it would be found that the biology related to the after-creation feeling has a lot in common with the biological effects of drugs that are supposed to give users pleasurable experiences. The nice thing is that I get no side effects.

Hmmm . . . maybe this is why so many artists turn to substance abuse. Art could be a gateway drug – introducing us to an experience that we continue to crave and chase. I’ll have to be careful. Maybe art is physically addictive. Is there such a thing as art-withdrawal? Maybe if you take an artist in the middle of a creative spurt and make it impossible for him to create, he’ll get physical reactions – cold sweats, shakes and stuff.

Maybe I’m just talking nonsense because I’m strung out on this art stuff.

Throughout the later years of my schooling, I often found myself in situations where my classmates and I were called upon to analyze literary and artistic works. Sometimes during the discussion that ensued and sometimes after it, the teacher always gave us the perspective of the more experienced, more educated critic. The teacher’s analysis always made a lot of sense to me – up to a point. Too often, I began asking myself how much of what the teacher is saying was actually in the work and how much of it was being read into the work. Sometimes the inferences were so obscure and deeply hidden that it seemed they had to be a result of over-analysis.

Fast forward to last night. I was listening to Reverse Psychology (which is very near completion), noting all the little things that need to be fixed and changed. I started reflecting on the amount of time and effort I spent making sure little details were just right. It’s a concept album, and I’m trying to make sure the whole album pushes the concept. I’m keeping the denouement constantly in view like Poe said I should. It got me to wondering – are people who listen to the album really going to notice and appreciate all those little details? I imagine (hope) that a good amount of the people who hear it will enjoy the music – it’s something to nod your head to – and some people will pay attention to the words and appreciate the meaning of each song. However, I’m guessing that few people will be paying enough attention to notice the significance of the ordering of the tracks – I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the right order to create an appropriate progression. Hardly anyone will note the contrast between the first and last tracks. Maybe not that many people will even get the connection between the title and the ideas on the CD.

Hmmmm . . . or maybe one day some people will be sitting around discussing Reverse Psychology and Person A will point out the little details. Maybe Person B will think Person A is over-analyzing and reading to much into the album. I can only hope . . .

Perspective is the compass of understanding. My change in perspective has me reconsidering all those moments when I thought my teachers were trying too hard; my change in perspective has lead me to a new understanding. At first when I was sitting through those classes, I wasn’t an artist at all. Even later on, after I had started writing poetry, I was only a dabbler. Now things are different. Now I look at my art as more than just a hobby, so I put more time into it. I put effort into making sure everything is the way it needs to be. Now, as I look back on those class discussions through the eyes of an artist, I understand – an artist who means to express anything agonizes over that expression, over making sure the picture is worth every one of the thousand words, over making sure the story is a deliberate trail leading to the perfect denouement. The greats must have agonized at least twice as much as the average artist. No wonder those details and connections my teachers found were so obscure and deeply hidden. The artists wanted to make sure that no matter how deeply one analyzed their works, the path to the denouement would be clear and well-marked.

I will continue to put the finishing touches on Reverse Psychology, and I will hope that my path is clear, intricate, and subtle enough that one day as someone walks along it toward my preplanned destination, he attributes its existence to the imaginations of ambitious academics.

I don’t know if this is something particular to the human species, but we have a very strong attraction to patterns and what is familiar. I don’t even know if “attraction” is the right word. In many ways it’s like a deer-in-headlights kind of attraction – patterns fascinate and mesmerize us.

Considering this, it makes a lot of sense that pattern is one of the most basic and essential parts of art. When we see paintings, the ones with identifiable patterns or recognizable images tend to draw our eyes. Our favorite music is packed with repeating hooks that we remember even if we forget every other part of the songs. Of course making good art is not as simple as making a good pattern. The problem with pattern is intrinsic – patterns are predictable. The challenge to the artist is to exploit the attractive powers of pattern while creating something that is new and original.

This is both not as hard as it sounds and harder than it sounds. It is not as hard as it sounds because of the particular way our attraction to pattern works. If you make a sound in a silent room, it will stand out and draw attention much more than if you were to make a sound in a noisy room. Likewise, if you throw something new and unfamiliar in the middle of a pattern it will stand out and draw attention. We can use the pull of pattern to draw attention to the unfamiliar and unique. It is harder than it sounds because combining the predictable and unpredictable in a way that is coherent to our senses is no easy task. As I write this, I wonder if it is not this contradiction that is at the heart of what we call art and what draws us to it.

I think anyone who is a passable artist applies this idea to some degree, whether or not they have actively considered it in the way I describe it. As it often is, knowledge is power in this case. By being conscious of the effects of the predictable and the unpredictable, the artist is able to manipulate pattern to serve his purposes to an even greater degree. Artists constantly seek to create patterns, but the aware artist will follow up the creation of a pattern by trying to break it. This is something I must constantly remind myself of, for though I know it, it is easy to fall back into old patterns.

On a message board I visit from time to time, somebody asked how to develop and improve vocal rap skills. I found this to be (to me at least) a pretty original question and I think it’s an important one. Many people seem to be born with a natural ability for a particular form of art. We call it talent. The thing is, while talent may be necessary at times, it can never take the place of practice just as practice can never take the place of talent. One may help to hide the absence of the other, but one can’t hold a candle to both. In the modern day Web 2.0/D.I.Y. world we live in, many people forget the importance of practice and learning. Amateur photographers can grab a digital camera and start snapping shots without ever learning the fundamentals of photography, so they don’t. Aspiring musicians can load Garage Band and record their band’s demo without learning the basics of recording and mixing, so they don’t. Etcetera etcetera. In the end, the difference between the people who take the time to learn and practice and those who don’t is usually apparent. The amateur photographer who has taken the time and effort to learn the technical aspects will have good shots on a more consistent basis. The mixes of the guy who spent a little time learning technique will sound better.

Rap is not very different – anyone can play a beat and start rhyming. That’s why it’s so refreshing to see someone actually think and ask about ways to improve. I added my two cents to the list of answers in the thread, and since I liked the question, I figured I could expand here.

• A few of the people who responded to the question said it was necessary to listen to and study the greats. It was even suggested that one practice reciting other people’s rhymes. I disagree with this. I believe hip-hop already has enough copycats and sound-alikes. There is no need to go out of your way to join them. It is important that an MC work at developing his own voice. The best cyphers I have been involved in were ones where everyone sounded different.
• Speaking of cyphers, do not underestimate the use of the freestyle. I made that mistake once, but once I started regularly getting involved in cyphers I learned how wrong I was. Freestyle has several benefits. It gives you practice using your voice and it helps you develop and recognize your own cadence and style. Also, freestyle is closely related to some of the exercises other artists use to open themselves up to inspiration. A painter might let the brush go where it wants with no particular picture in mind. A writer might sit down and write whatever comes to mind however strange or incomprehensible it might be. Freestyling is the MCs version of this. Something you say during a freestyle may give you great idea for a song and after freestyling on a regular basis for a while, you will find it helps your writing to. These last benefits will be more extreme if when freestyling, you attempt to challenge yourself and step away from the “typical subjects.” See what you come up with when you avoid the hip-hop cliché of how great you are and the mainstream money, violence and sex themes.
• Pay attention to energy and emotion. Energy will help you get a hold of your audience. Emotion will give your words authenticity. Imagine hearing a song about pain and sorrow performed in a toneless, bored-sounding voice. You don’t want to be that ridiculous image when you perform. Don’t just practice your words, breathing and timing – practice your emotions. Get used to putting yourself in the moment of a song, whether that moment is happy, angry, sad, etc.
• Listen to music. Your songs should not consist of your voice and some music in the background. Your vocals and the music should work together to make the song. To do this consistently, it is important that you have an understanding of music. Help improve your understanding by listening to music. Try to make a habit of listening to all kinds of music, not just other hip-hop. Pay attention to individual instruments and how they work with the other sounds.
• Get out of your musical comfort zone. Trying reciting your verses to music they were not written to. Practice with beats at different tempos and even non-hip-hop instrumentals. This will help accustom you to the nuances of different beats. Also, try freestyling to music you have a hard time freestyling to – music that’s faster or slower than you are comfortable with or with difficult rhythms.
• Don’t forget good old fashioned practice. Practice your songs. Memorize them and get comfortable with them. This will help improve your breathing and give you room to play around with cadence.
• Writing is important. If you find that a particular line is constantly giving you trouble or sounding awkward, rewrite it. Rewording a line can change how it sits on the beat. For example, don’t try to force “I got inside of the car” to fit when you could simply rewrite it as “I got in the car”.
• Last but far from least – all of the previous tips have to do with technique. Composition is extremely important to. Try to choose varied subject matter and to approach it in interesting ways. Too many MCs seem to feel that a rap can only be about a few limited subjects. It doesn’t have to be. Rap is just one form of expression among many and it is compatible with anything out there that can be expressed whether it’s a story, an emotion, or an idea.

I wrote my first haiku today. Up until recently I didn’t even like or understand the purpose of haikus. A few months ago, two Philly poets recited several haikus at an open mic that made me appreciate the form. Today, I found out one advantage haiku has over other forms. Somebody annoyed me today, and it made me remember that from the first time I had a conversation with her, I knew I didn’t want to know her better. Unfortunately now I find myself having to interact with her on a regular basis. That thought caused the idea-for-a-poem light bulb to light up – life was better before I met you, blah blah blah, with an emphasis on the contrast between life before you and life after you. Of course this would have been abstracted and exaggerated to an extreme (the incident that inspired this wasn’t a big deal), but then I realized that I would have to make my antagonist possess just about every bad trait that it is possible for a human to have. I don’t want to write about someone like that or even suggest that they exist. I would need to leave it up to the reader to imagine whatever bad traits the antagonist might have. Haiku seemed the best way to do that because it leaves so much up to the audience. I think of Haiku as a poetic suggestion for the audience to think about something in particular.

Before I knew you
Life was very different.
Who said change is good?

After writing that, I realized something about myself. I lead two lives. Or, maybe it’s better to say I lead one life from two perspectives. I am constantly observing myself, my thoughts, my interactions, and the people around me looking for the next song, poem or blog. It’s strange. it makes me feel kind of removed from myself, like I’m sitting on my shoulder watching my life happening and taking notes. At times, it makes me feel kind of cold because at times I’ll take a step back from feeling whatever I’m feeling at the moment to think about what I’m feeling at the moment.

Was it Shakespeare who said “art reflects life”? Maybe that’s because art finds itself intertwined with every other aspect of life for the artist. It’s amazing what this does for the artist. Several years ago, i picked up photography as a hobby, and ever since then, my search for picture worthy compositions has made me pay more attention to the world around me. Its the same for written material. I pay more attention because I am an artist. Things that otherwise would not have lingered in my mind for more than a few moments sit, grow, mutate and re-emerge. I notice similarities and common threads. And I don’t keep it all to myself.

Damn. i want to conclude this, but I’m not sure how to. I started on haikus and ended on what art adds to my life. I guess in summary: Haikus are good and so is art.