Who Am I Again? And Who Are My Readers?

Identity, Niche, Online Presence, Audience & Influence Amid The Algorithm

PART I

Who am I, again? I have to ask myself this question all the time. It comes up when I send a query to a bookstore (because you have to apply to be on the shelves), pitch a story to a magazine, or ask to be a speaker at an event. They want to know who you are. Tell a little bit about yourself. It’s a fair question. Booksellers, bookfair planners, librarians, they legitimately need to know if you will be appealing to their customers and how they can categorize you on their shelves. Anyone trying to get out there, be popular, sell something, or share ideas has to define themselves, no matter the platform, app, or industry.

With my laptop open on the dining room table in front of me, I look around the room—and then out the window at my witch hazel bushes and persimmon tree. Perched on the back of the couch, my mini schnoodle looks out the window too. He barks feverishly at the neighbor’s dog on the sidewalk. He knows who he is. He is my canine alarm system. But me?

For the virtual world, common advice to connect with others is to have a “strong niche.” You’re supposed to “be consistent” with your “unique voice.” You’re also supposed to “keep it real” and “show your true self.” Marketing experts talk about the third-third-third rule—posting one third about your books, one third about one hobby, and another third about another thing, probably a second hobby, or a pet. Seems solid. People need to be able to find you, and labels help. “Give your readers what they want.” Be authentic.

I get it, in a way. Defining who I am is essential for “the algorithm.” Using codes for traits and desires, mathematical formulas can match up products/books with buyers/readers. People are creatures of habit, mostly. (I like spy novels, for example.) Readers typically want material that’s similar to things they’ve read before. People with certain personality profiles, and/or people who like thing X, may be more likely to like thing Y, even if they aren’t fully cognizant of that themselves. Zip zip, you’ll feel some emotion—fear, joy, anxiety, hope—and that will trip the buyer switch. Behavioral tendencies and purchasing patterns are being researched, mined and refined all the time. Take one peek at the academic literature on AI and marketing, and you’ll get the picture—it’s a tidal wave of studies on personality type, demographics, fame, probability, and buying patterns, like Mad Men on steroids.

By setting up categories and matching factors, you can locate—or even spur—a community of fans/buyers. To be successful in this system, it helps if you’re little different, so you capture people’s imaginations, but not so different that you break the mold. For example, if you’re a plumber and you’re teaching DIY home repairs, your gig is pretty clear cut. Or if you’re writing a cookbook, and you can narrow it down by region and type of food, such as traditional Northern German desserts for the American home chef, then that’s a sweet plan.

You might assume it would be easy for me. I could boil myself down to “writer” or “author,” or “fiction author” or “thriller writer,” maybe in combination with “former journalist.” Those labels are true. People get them. It’s not rocket science. It’s not really about who I am am, fully and completely, but what pieces of myself I should highlight for the sake of selling my novels. Don’t overthink it. (Ah! A good descriptor for me: “overthinker”!)

Yet therein lies the rub: If I use a narrow niche, then I don’t feel particularly authentic. In one swoop, I follow one cardinal rule, but break the other. So what do I do?

Just prioritize. But if you’re trying to explain yourself to others, what is the most important thing to say? Do I start with ethnic background? Age? Gender? Family status? What about my education, employment history, hobbies, activities, religion, geographical locations? Should I go a little deeper and tell about likes and dislikes? Instead of degrees and accolades, should I share mistakes I made, and stupid things I said? Do you want to hear about my weaknesses, rejections, foibles, and pet peeves? Values play an important role in identity too. Should I start by telling you what I believe in? Should we vibe on what I call the “sad-mad-glad triad”?

Labels can be useful—let’s say, like in locating something at the grocery store—but when applied to people? Sure, labels can highlight important factors, especially if we assign them to ourselves. There’s often strength in numbers, and that can be powerful, a force of good. But labels can also create division. If I’m in this club, and you’re not, for example, what then? Is that a barrier? I might assume things about you, based on the label, but is my idea really right? Am I stereotyping you or reducing you to a caricature? Do labels make it harder or easier to find common ground? It probably depends. There’s no hard and fast rule. Still, it’s worth noting that categories/labels have a down side, because the labels could act as hurdles or worse, completely locked doors.

When it comes to identity, the more you think about it, the harder it gets. It’s no simple task to narrow things down—and rightly so. What if I’m the salade folle, that “crazy salad” that I once had on a trip to Charleroi, Belgium, a bed of greens with an unexpected mixture of unconventional toppings? What if I’m an unbalanced laundry load, or unblended smoothie with fruit chunks floating around in it? Or, more positively expressed, a glistening gold-and-silver necklace of intricately set gemstones? A royal crown? What if I’m an old-growth forest or an entire ecosystem? Even bigger. A vast universe! That’s it. I better put that on my bio.

(See Part II about you “My Readers” (you!) next week!)