Branding & Business Cards for Indie Authors

Twitch and Die! in the Kindle storeSome are saying that the eBook is the new business card.

Crap.

If that’s the case then I’m one of thousands trying to make a living from handing out business cards that take between four and twelve months to write. Which would make me an idiot something fierce.

This isn’t a road I want to go down. But if eBooks aren’t the new business card, then what are they? What is the new business card? What am I? (And what’s this I’m sitting on… oh, my son’s Cheerios.)

Of course the industry word at the heart of all this piss and rambling is “branding.” As I wipe the cereal crumbs from my britches I think of all the heart-smart mornings I’ve spent watching my sons eat these crunchy little ohs which have become ubiquitous with snack-traps and toddlers. Branding.

I’m a story-teller. A liar by trade. I don’t mind saying I’m pretty damn good at it.

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Redneck Sustainability: How to Dig a Big Hole

digging a holeAs the rather disturbing saying goes, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Not sure which states actually allow cat skinning. But I’m sure you’re familiar with the expression, “It’s only an expression.” That said, I’d like to talk about digging holes.

These days there are lots of ways to go about digging a big hole: skid loaders, back hoes, trenchers, pneumatic diggers, etc. But one old-fashion means of digging remains. You might have heard of it–the shovel.

The art of shovel-wielding has been maintained by a small, elite group of blue-collar professionals and rednecks. It’s one of those skills you begrudging learn as a youth only to be grateful for later in life when confronted with the collapse of society.

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American Flag Waving, Hemp Style

hemp history week logoHere at the Green Porch it’s my duty every now and then to remind y’all that you’re killing the earth and dooming human kind to hell.

Whether its due to driving an SUV, implanting a cell phone chip in your brain or refusing to give up Survivor-style reality TV, we are, each of us, brewing our own stew of the end times. But hey, with a little Worcestershire that stew could have some real zing.

On a preventative note, this last week was the fourth annual Hemp History Week. By golly it was an American-flag-waving celebration of the sort of manifest destiny that made this nation great. Are you going to spend another year sitting around in your cotton briefs allowing those Washington bureaucrats to tell you what you can and can’t farm in your raised garden beds?

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