Kickstarteronomy #2

Or how Anakin Skywalker came to be eating my shorts

If the soundtrack in my head to my previous piece was The Great Escape, now it's more like Darth Vader's Imperial March. It's just over a day since my Kickstarter project to publish a book about 1980s r&b music went live and I'm in panic mode. I probably shouldn't be writing in this frame of mind, but equally that's exactly why I should be writing.

I went live with much trepidation late on Monday evening, having combed the whole project for issues for the eleventy third time. Anne said really it's looking great, just do it, you've killed it, so up we went – not exactly with both our fingers quivering on the mouse pad, but near enough.

I posted loudly on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. I emailed everybody that had shown an interest in the pre-launch, plus all the Facebook groups and a bunch of other people. Then I went to bed, hoping that the liveness of being live would work its magic and there would be a load of backers in the morning.

I certainly woke up to a few lovely pledges but it wasn't quite the avalanche I was hoping for. The One Show had evidently called and decided not to leave a message. That's alright guys. I know how it goes. Wasn't available anyway. Nope.

Dom dom dom dum de dum dom de dum...

And so it started. Eat my shorts, Vader! A friend with lots of digital marketing nous got in touch to say the project looked awesome and had a great chance of success if I just flooded social media. So that was clearly how I needed to spend the next few hours – not to mention the days to follow. To hell with the Death Star. I don't even like Star Wars. Here comes the flood!

I went on Instagram and followed every musician on the planet. Then I messaged every last record shop and every page related to funk or r&b or the 80s. Hey hey hey, I yelled. Here's this great thing I'm doing. Don't think of me as a cold caller. This is not viagra, although understanding exactly how r&b went synth crazy in 1980 will definitely improve your sex life. Could you back me or at least spread the word to your 3,645 followers? Thank you thank you thank you!

I am describing this quickly but it took up most of the day. It was suddenly time to get the boy wonder from nursery. He doesn't give a crap about synths. He is more into raisins. When you tell him no more raisins he loses his shit so you have to bribe him with a tangerine. This buys you another minute while you wait for the pasta to boil. Unfortunately the pasta still had five to go, plus it needed to cool before he can eat it. Raaaaaaaaa!

This is all a form of therapy, I tell myself. There's no Death Star in his world, no wheezing giant who can levitate you by waving a pinkie. Though come to think of it, there are similarities.

Anyway, we did some nice things after dinner like drawing fishes and talking about exclamation marks, then BW went to bed. I resumed panic.

I read a load of new stuff about Kickstarter marketing to see whether it's worth paying a promoter, since quite a few had written me during the day. I could see lots of pros and cons. They can put you in front of a lot more eyeballs but there's no substitute for having a solid extended network of backers. The best projects have this all sewn up well before launch. Everyone in their network backs them within moments of going live and makes them unstoppable. Teachers pets.

Lots of friends who had said they would pledge had yet to pledge. I wrote to a good few and asked if they could please please do so. I felt like I was turning into some sales banshee. I've always hated sales banshees. My best hope is to be a sales banshee with lots of great music to shout about.

I hit Reddit. I hadn't attacked Reddit during pre-launch, which now seems unfathomable. I started seeking out relevant groups and of course you immediately come up against rules against self-promotion. So instead of trying to post, I wrote to mod after mod asking if it would be okay to spread the word. Some wrote back to say no.

Meanwhile Kickstarter had yet to favourite my project. How dare they. I wrote to them and said they'd be doing me the hugest of huge solids if they did so, and more importantly helping to rewrite the story of synth so that black artists get the place they deserve – which is totally true. They wrote back to say the request was with editorial and they'd decide soon.

Dom dom dom dum de dum dom de dum...

I woke up at 4am and this summary started forming in my head. I nearly got up and wrote it but forced myself to stay in bed. Now it's mid-morning. I have raised £810 and have circa £6,000 to go. That feels respectable but I fear it's less than necessary at this stage.

So let's hope for great things today. Even if you jump out of a plane with a slightly dodgy parachute it's possible that a skydiving instructor can catch you in mid-air and get you safely to the ground right?

Sheesh.

If you would like to alleviate this self-created hell and back my honestly very worthwhile project, please click here!