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| The feeling of becoming an influencer |
Thrash, thrash and trash again. The public, the audience, and the market it must resonate. Somewhere it must be.
Merely produce, get the manual assembly labour done of production. No matter how unpersuasive the tautology of that is, since this ain't robotics.
Then, self-publish, permissible self-premotion is all that can be done. Obscurity will kill all of what is there to be.
It has to be permissible: anticipated, personal and relevant. Or it's spam.
A thrash out of share cropped little lands of attention, merely all to be a little more noticed. Merely to be seen'n respected. To be sought out.
Banking all faith on a serendipitous crapshoot of an unmeasured response of brand growing.
A schedule that matters, heart and soul on the platter that needs to be championed, otherwise it's dead with no applause. The ship is the end point.
With the idea it must go, and onto the next.