Large Quantities Don’t Necessarily Equate To Huge Dividends

Some of us need to learn how to build a better mousetrap

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not the smartest in the bunch, the sharpest tool in the shed, or the brightest Crayola in the box. And because I have a stubborn streak wider than a six-lane freeway, it often takes me a long time to come to a realization other people spot straightaway.

Today I learned another valuable lesson. Hey, if you’re not continuing to learn, you ain’t growing, right? So. The lesson.

If you only make pennies on a story and the story has a shelf life of three or four days, which equates to a 4 cent gross, how many stories do you have to produce to make four bucks in four days?

What’s that like a hundred? Twenty-five stories a day for four days. How many of you writers are even capable of that kind of output? I know I’m not. Nowhere even close.

But think about this.

Using the same rate of return as above, how many stories would you have to produce to make forty bucks over those same four days? Ten times as much revenue?

Now that folks would have to be a shit load of quantity.

Now, this piece is not designed to show you ways to make more money with your writing. Anybody who reads my stuff knows how much I abhor a writer making money by telling me how to make money.

I’m merely stating that a light bulb just turned on with me. And the revelation all of you probably already know. And it’s something I’ve written about before and of course, paid little heed to my own damn words.

Large quantities don’t necessarily equate to huge dividends.

Here’s the translation:

Quality over quantity.

Duh.

So, here’s where my stubbornness comes into play. I know it’s always about quality. It’s what my readers expect of me, and frankly, it should be what I need to expect from myself. What I learned (why it’s just dawning on me now I haven’t the foggiest) during my time here is that I’ve become very good at mindfuckery of my own head.

What I mean is that over the last two years, I’ve trained myself to believe everything I write is going to make a certain amount and to make more, I need to produce more.

I have screwed myself into thinking I had to produce at a minimum, sixty pieces in a thirty day month or sixty-two in a month with thirty-one days. The only rest I would get was in February when I only had to produce fifty-six. Wow, a breather!

What kind of unadulterated bullshit thinking is that? Who thinks like that? Uh, me that’s who. Is it no wonder over the last two years, I’ve experienced more melt-downs than Chernobyl?

Way on back in my early years (last year), I used to crack a joke when someone talked to me about low-profit margins and how to make money with volume. I used to say, “Hey, if you’re losing margin by producing one, what makes you think you can make money by producing a thousand?”

Uh, you won’t. If you spin out the same tired assed product each year and never improve the product, thereby improving the worth, you’re going to get the same shitty returns.

But a lot of writers, some precisely like me, seem to think it’s a volume thing.

Well, it ain’t, and it never has been. It’s always been about quality. Producing something which improves not only the worth of the work itself, but also the value of whoever reads it.

A comedian can stand on a stage and rip out a thousand one-liners, but if he/she never strikes a chord, if they never resonate with their audience, their entire bit is going to bomb worse than the Yugo.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who needs to learn how to build a better mousetrap. But I know for sure I’m changing direction. So now, I’m slowly attempting to turn my quantity habits into quality habits. Mind you, it ain’t that easy after two years of participating in the running of the bulls, but I’m learning.

Two things I did in June. I not once looked at my partner earnings, and from here on out, I’m not going to. I always tell everyone who’ll listen, writing shouldn’t be focused solely on money. And after spending each day checking those damned itty bitty earnings and getting totally frustrated, I figured I needed to put my writing where my mouth was.

Second, I only wrote forty-two pieces in June. Hey, I said I was learning. I didn’t say I was entirely on the wagon. Sometimes (hopefully not always), I have to throw out a little crap to get to the good parts. Ya know, like tossing all those leftovers in the refrigerator to make way for the fresh stuff.

But not the lasagna. I don’t care if it’s a week old. I’ll just nuke it in the microwave longer.

Anyway, June was definitely a strange month for me, a learning month for sure, but odd because of all the little epiphanies that continue to happen specifically with my writing career. Who knows. Maybe in July, I’ll figure out how to write a complete story without one time having to use spell check or Grammarly.

Uh, the odds don’t look too good for the home team on that one folks.

Thank you so much for reading. You didn’t have to, but I’m certainly glad you did.

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