Someone give that Little Person a Platform

I keep hearing that authors should have a "platform". If you write a book about a beagle then you better be the president of the beagle society. Writing a book about Egyptian excavation? Well, you better spend your free time mummifying your relatives. I generally ignore buzz words unless they make me feel inadequate. This one makes my 5.6 (with favorite heels on) self feel especially short.

My next book, Who put the B in the Ballyhoo? is about the circus. I can't juggle, I am terrified of clowns, and my last name doesn't end with Barnum or Bailey. What's a circus-loving girl to do without a platform?

I know my publisher realized that I didn't have a platform before they signed the book. I was not at the acquisition meeting, but my active imagination has vividly recreated it:

Publisher: what is this author's platform? (publisher has that delighted "I just used an industry buzz word" look)
Editor: Well, I believe her third cousin, twice removed, trained big cats until an unfortunate incident with a hungry Bengal tiger. Oh, and she can paint.
Publisher: hmmm...can she perform any circus tricks?
Editor: um well no...no wait.. I think she mentioned a hidden sword swallowing talent. She is also very handy with a paint brush!
Publisher: Will she swallow swords to sell books?
Editor: I could certainly ask.
Publisher: well, if she will swallow swords then sign her up. And if not, then maybe we could count on that painting thing.

And there you have it. A sad tale of a midget circus girl with a lonely paint brush and no circus tricks. What will be her book's fate????? (insert dramatic organ music here)

Someone out there give me some ideas, hope, sage advice, or maybe just a stepping stool. How do you promote a book without a platform?

THE POD PEOPLE: A LOVE STORY

For the last three years, I have been having a secret love affair. We first met in my art studio behind easels and freshly stretched canvases. Our tumultuous love affair was frustrating but always exciting. At a recent SCBWI conference, I decided it was time to stop hiding and go public with our affair. It was time to say the three little words that would forever change our relationship. So armed with the liquid courage of two vodka tonics, I blurted out the brave declaration of my undying love. "I work digitally".

As soon as I said it, I felt the scarlet D burning through my SCBWI nametag. Everyone would know my dirty secret now. No, the paintings were not created with a mixture of blood, sweat, tears and India ink. No, I didn't stay up late with the smell of turpentine burning my nostrils and destroying the logical side of my brain. Instead, I sat in an ergonomically correct office chair equipped with my pressure sensitive tablet and my most beloved of all...James my computer.

James the Butler is his full name. I christened James with this name because he cost so much that I truly believed he would do laundry, wash dishes, and on occasion split DNA.

We are a scorned pair. I heard many negative remarks about digital artists while at the conference. One very talented artist commented that the only tool he used to create his work was his "hand". Ouch. The implication was understood. It is true. Digital artists sprout tentacles when in contact with their computers. Their eyeballs pop out of their head along with some stale smelling slime that spawns what we call "digital art".

Why is digital art viewed as such a detached way to create art? James has yet to create a single piece of art without the help of my "hand". Maybe it is because there is a lot of bad digital art? But there are also some equally scary watercolors, oil painting, and pastels floating around. (Aunt Elma this is not directed at you...your watercolor lighthouses are beautiful) Maybe it is just that digital art is misunderstood? Maybe we just need some understanding of why so many artists mix a little computer into their oils. Here are some of the finer points that keep James and me together.

1. If I had to do it all over again...
Imagine having the power to go back in time and undo mistakes. Splash some red on that tree. Go ahead...you can always undo it with two clicks. You now have the power of "control z" at your fingertips. Control Z that extra bunny. Control Z that mustache. Control Z that experimental use of black. Control Z your college boyfriend. Ok maybe not that.

2. No messy endings
I was always a messy painter. Half of my painting would end up on the white sofa. Not any more. Now, I clean up with just one click of a button. So in some ways, James does save on cleaning bills.

3. Love Hurts
It was my junior year in college, when I came home to my roommate cutting her boyfriend's head out of a picture. If she had owned Photoshop, she could have not only cut out his head, without the use of a sharp object, but also replaced it with her new boyfriend...Brad Pitt. Today's digital artists are doing something similar to my roommate's lobotomized memories. Composition is a large part of whether a painting works and the ability to easily rearrange, scale, rotate and even distort objects in space can only create a stronger composition.

These are just some of the top reasons why I use a computer. But it is not the tool that creates a great painting. It is the artist. So if you are a traditional artist, be kind to a digital artist's strange taste in partners. Our tentacles can reach far when angered.

The Fiji Mermaid

Here is the rare and beautiful Fiji Mermaid captured from the Fiji islands:

I had the opportunity to see one of these creatures in the Dime Museum in Baltimore, MD. It looked like this:

Although it certainly is an interesting tale, The Fiji Mermaid was actually captured from one of P.T, Barnum’s skilled taxidermist. Barnum paid his taxidermist to sew a fish tail on to an orangutan’s torso and voila the Fiji mermaid was born. To read more about the Fiji Mermaid and other famous circus stars, you will have to wait for the book titled Who Put the B in the Ballyhoo being released in May of 2007.