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seenashwrite · 6 years

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(see HERE for part one of answer)

Ah, mass appeal, that oft elusive lil' stinker. How to get it is one of those age-old questions for us creator-types. We want it, for personal reasons, for perhaps monetary reasons, and determining what constitutes it and how to tap into it and even if we should try to tap into it are all pickles.

No, not that type, those are fabulous. I mean sticky situations. The non-tempuraish bliss with delusion of "Hey, I'm doing great on my diet, 'cause it's a vegetable!" kind.

Spoiler Alert: I'm not going to tell you not to compare yourself to other people, of course you are, and in many ways this is a good thing, it's called having an ideal to which to aspire, except it shouldn't be rooted in popularity, the admiration should be for their work. . . . Thanks for your question!

I'm kidding, Dean, and you damn well know it. Bite me. And fetch me a whiskey. And some Death pickles. I got talkin’ to do.

Part Two: Water Chumming & How That Shark May Bite Your Ass, So Here’s A Bunch Of Other Stuff That Can Be Done From The Safety Of The Shore

C/P for convenience:

Is it worth trying to please the masses when we can't please ourselves? Am I poking the bear?

Let us recap from Part One:

We talked about how to get from a feeling of ineptitude to - at first - just mild trepidation when it comes time to hit "publish", and started delving into "but how to get there?" so that the path can lead on to an actual measure of confidence, which brings us to the second part of your question up there - which is, I find, a completely normal thought, stemming from exasperation, when it feels like you're surrounded by a ton of people who are having ungodly amounts of success, and it seems like the biggest mystery in the world. So it's natural to wonder: should I follow their lead? Try to do what they're doing?

Maybe - let's unpack that, dig into what that would entail, the pros-and-cons, what some alternatives may be.

Near the end of Pt. 1, we talked about not understanding why some stories/writers gain traction, while others don't, specifically regarding the quality of their stories. As facetious and jokey and snotty and funny as I made that "rant", and said how you could always use the SSDTs [Same Shit, Different Title] stories as a "How Not To Do It" guide, I also mentioned how they must be doing something right - and they are, the metrics we've got (hearts, notes, feedback, asks r/t stories, followers, reblogs) bear it out. It's right there. There's nothing to interpret. It's there. It's fact.

Not to mention, as much as I've tried to drill down on objective parameters for my rec list, to try and smoosh down subjectivity, both on my part and on the part of people who rec to me, there's still a pretty substantial margin of subjectivity. There just is - a story could be ridiculous in plot, could be littered with reprehensible grammar, could poorly represent Sam/Dean/etc., could have a shallow Y/N. Yet if something within the story, no matter how oblique, speaks to the heart of a reader? In the immortal words of Private Hudson:

Game. Over. They’re in. Case closed.

I also mentioned that little number in the corner, that overall snapshot of how much action a given story/that writer accumulated and pondered - does it indicate how great the story is? Also known as: Does that mean their story/their writing is better than mine?

Well. No. Not necessarily. I suspect that - and this would take a huge data mining mission on every single one of a given writer's high count stories to know - in part, some of the number represents a manifestation of a cult following. I'll save you the trouble of clicking the link:

"A cult following is a group of fans who are highly dedicated to a work of culture. A film, book, musical artist, television series or video game, among other things, will be said to have a cult following when it has a small but very passionate fanbase. A common component of cult followings is the emotional attachment the fans have to the object of the cult following, often identifying themselves and other fans as members of a community. Cult followings are also commonly associated with niche markets."

I've no idea why "musical artist" was the only human example they threw in there, because in my experience/observation over **cough** decades of life on the planet, I see cult followings for humans more than stuff, and public figures of other areas beyond music (actors, politics, etc.) just as much. There are men-I MEAN-people who will never be socially ostracized no matter how inappropriately they behave, no matter the amount of evidence, doesn't matter - their following will absolutely make preserving the (fake) image that person cultivated their hill to die on.

But we're getting negative, and where I'm going with "cult status" in our context isn't negative. The "cult" mentality aspect to which I refer is about loyalty of followers (specifically reader-followers) in general, and then further, the loyalty of that subset of reader-followers who were early readers. They adored "x" number of that writer's stories in the past, and even if the quality of newer stories has declined, they are still gonna hit that heart and reblog it and say it was great. Do they actually believe it? Some of them, to be sure. Do some of them have on cult following rose-colored glasses? Friggin' of course.

Like I said above the cut - I'm not going to tell you not to compare yourself to other people, of course you are, and in many ways this is a good thing, it's called having an ideal to which to aspire, except it shouldn't be rooted in popularity, the admiration should be for their work. But there's admiration owed to these writers for maintaining their follower base, regardless of whether those follower-readers aren't in the admiring-for-the-work mode. So while you can't admire them for their stories, because you think they blow, there is an ideal, a definite modelling to consider: what are some of these writers who are getting huge numbers doing to maintain what popularity they've accrued?

Let's pause here for a recap of what we know for sure:

1. You won't know if telling stories is legit in your wheelhouse or not until you start getting some feedback from readers, which is going to help get you out of Ineptitudeville;

2. Ideally, this would begin with an honest, straightforward editor who knows how to give constructive critique --> in the meantime, use The Nail's guiding standards to serve as an at-home editor til you feel ready to find such an editor;

3. You can't get feedback for your supplemental self-editing documents of "nailed it" and "Achilles' heels" unless you put yourself out there (which, hopefully chipping away at #1 will get you over the ineptitude hump and into a healthy trepidation territory so you can do);

4. There's potential modelling to be done by observing what the "popular" writers are doing outside of their stories to accrue/maintain followers, and trying to see what their loyal reader-followers see in stories you don't find very good.

Again - assuming you've gotten comfy enough to just feel a normal nervousness vs. ineptitude, it's on to getting an audience. So, what could it be? That these mega-number generators are doing? I think it's two things:

(A) They have broad exposure that brings others into the fold (B) There's more at work than just stories

But Nash, are you not paying attention? I don't have exposure, they've got a bazillionty followers - you may say.

Then let's get you some exposure that has nothing to do with follower counts, nothing *inherently* due to the potentially not-so-robust nature of your stories at present, things that just might get you more followers, hopefully turning a chunk of them into reader-followers somewhere along the way.

(A) Exposure that doesn't require "popularity":

1. SPN Fanfic Pond ---> 24/7/365 - join it and submit your stories - never know who'll see it - guaranteed reblog

2. SPN Hiatus Creations ---> specific dates - I don't think many people know that they include fics, since they mostly get submissions of art - weekly topics to choose from - join in, submit your stories - the folks behind it most always put a little comment in their tags, so be on lookout for your feedback doc - guaranteed reblog

3. SPN Family Birthdays ---> 24/7/365 - their kindness gets your name "out there" to more people, both the mods behind-the-scenes, as well as that blog's followers - guaranteed exposure - *mandatory* to reblog this with a thank you and at least one point of feedback about it to whomever created that birthday wish for you

4. Bingos: SPN Genre Bingo - SPN Fluff Bingo - SPN Kink Bingo - SPN Angst Bingo ---> specific dates - variety of topics - guaranteed reblog - good/decent potential reblog from others via their followers and those who follow the tags

5. Challenges from individuals ---> sporadic dates - variety of topics - follow people who you see hosting them, if they've hosted one they'll likely host more - hosts will typically reblog each fic (good chance with a touch of feedback), and/or put your "@" and link to your fic onto a master post - more popular the blog/higher follower count, the more exposure, so high reblog/new reader potential

6. Seasonal Celebrations ---> specific dates - Secret Valentines, secret Santas, etc. - do it and you're also probably making a friend, maybe gaining a new follower, maybe their followers will come visit your place because your assigned person reblogs what you did for them - moderate-to-high potential for reblog *

(*Should be a guarantee but some people are dicks; my Valentine didn't ever send me shit this year, not even an apology through the organizer, but you know what? I don't care. Legit. I made a friend through it, and really enjoyed making what I did for them.)

7. “Bangs” ---> sporadic dates - a.k.a. Mini-bangs / Big-bangs - focused on a topic/character - guaranteed reblog

8. Appreciation Days ---> specific dates - Angst, Smut, Fluff appreciation days - you can even submit already written fics/don't necessarily have to whip out something new - specific tags can draw readers - good/decent potential for reblogs

9. Prompts ---> 24/7/365 - imagines, those generic prompt blogs - follow some, keep an eye out for the interesting ones - challenge yourself to crank out one a week, short little 500-ish word blurbs - reblogs, maybe, who cares, this is serving to get you out of the funk and get used to posting your work; it's practice, and if it gets love, then great, if not, you still got stuff to put on a master post - and make a master post and get it in your profile so it's easily find-a-ble

10. Outside of Tumblr * ---> 24/7/365 - Fanfic.net and AO3 - join and put fic there and put your links somewhere on your blog - both have stats - both give opportunity for people to comment and to share direct links to their blogs, which is how this connects to the goal of visibility in the SPN fandom here - also a way to self-reblog your story in a “fresh” way/cuts down on repetition popping up on your followers’ dashes (i.e. - helps cushion the ol’ “Oh they’re posting this again?!” feeling)

[* Note: many of us have great distaste for Wattpad because it is a breeding ground for thieves - people will c/p stories from here and present them as their own, some trying to excuse it by “giving credit” in a blanket manner a la “found at Tumblr” or listing the “@” of the writer. The problem is, Wattpad’s method of reporting leaves much to be desired - like Instagram, they only seem to be interested if a published author takes issue. The only real way to call out these thieves is via an immense amount of pressure from the SPN Family commenting directly at their Wattpad page. My point? Your choice, but if you do join up and post there, proceed with caution.]

(B) The stuff that's more than just writing:

1. Reblog interesting things that show who you are - fan art is a great start - shows your tastes and what you like - when feeling confident, host a challenge, as what you choose for the framework (one of mine, for instance, was using lines of dialogue from Archer) will also reflect what you like, what you're into - tag people you're friendly with and say something like "Even if you're not interesting in joining, signal boost, please??? [cute emoticon]"

2. Narrow down focus - if you're multi-fandom, drill down on your favorite - start by building up a solid following in that one fandom - keep a ratio of about 80% primary fandom, 20% to cover the others/personal/non-fandom stuff - use a "Not [fandom]" tag for that 20% so your followers can choose to opt-out - or if you can't manage this, do a side blog or two

3. Set your queue to pop stuff out (at minimum) 2 or 3 times/day - stuff it - start with CanonSPNgifs - keep your blog active - unless something you want to reblog is time-sensitive, chuck it to the queue - a wall of posts from the same person on the dash is off-putting - same for constant reblogs of your own stuff*

(* Which you should do, yes, but have an understanding of time zones, will ya? I swear some people are re-blogging for myriad time zones in Oz and Narnia, as well, I've no idea... I've digressed)

4. Send Asks to people like the "spread the love" stuff - if they post "Ask Me" things, send them one - reblog the answered ask and say what you think about their answer/at minimum say "thanks, this was great" - reblog those ask games posts for your followers so they ask you questions - get engaged

5. Respond to a good portion of the comments people leave for you, whether feedback or just funny things they said - specifically, feedback with reblog deserves reply of thank you, whether in the notes or a fresh post; see my blog for copious examples - make a post that says your tags are open/offer to tag folks - anytime your follower count jumps by, say, 5, reblog it - make an OMG!-type post every time your follower count increases by, say, 10 - you’re telling them you actually give a shit that they follow

6. Keep an eye out for folks (especially those who make rec lists, so always check out rec lists for who did it when you spot them) who have said it's okay to tag them - always tag them, even if they seldom reply/reblog/feature you on their list, as you never know

7. When you read stories by other writers that you love, reblog them *with some feedback* - do unto others, etc., etc. This is in huge headline size for a reason. Take the hint.

ETA - I chimed in and gave some tips since I composed this post, and it may be helpful for you/for people who are shy or intimidated or just not particularly comfortable verbalizing feelings.

...and here’s what I suggested:

If you want to get specific, say what your favorite thing/things is/are; in my mind that could go something like this:

I felt like I was right there with them in the ____ [setting]

I felt like I was right there during ____ [part of the plot]

I felt like I was watching an episode of the show

I could relate so much to ____ [character]

My favorite line(s) was/were ____

___ [character(s)] sounded just like they do on the show

___ [character(s)] acted just like they do on the show

And there’s also more generic things, such as:

This story really touched me, I needed something heartwarming!

This story cracked me up, I needed a good laugh!

This story made me smile, I needed some cheering up!

This story got me crying, I needed a good cry!

This story was really creative, I needed a change of pace!

And if you want to keep it really simple? This can apply to any story:

I enjoyed this more than I can say, thank you so much for writing it

Is full-on blind cult following an "ehhhh" thing? Yeah. But the basis of it, the true, legit loyalty part of it, is wonderful. You want that. The more readers know you, the more they'll feel comfortable interacting with you, and the greater their comfort, the more likely they'll give you feedback and, eventually, some constructive critique*

(*You gotta make it clear you're fine with critique, though, and don't dare say it if you're just gonna pitch a fit when you get some, however poorly phrased the critique may be; but that's another topic, for another day).

Great, Nash, you still haven't answered my question about pleasing the masses - you may say.

The answer is: that's a call you gotta make for yourself. To hopefully help, I'll tell you two stories about chumming the waters with (what seems to be) the standard wares that get a ton of followers/reader-followers.

Interestingly, I *just* this past week or so had a great discussion with someone (who I won't reveal, of course, because it was PM) on this very topic. You'd recognize their name, if not follow them/have read their stuff, they've got a healthy fanbase, etc., etc., etc. all that jazz. It would surprise you, is my point, to know that they've been pondering on their writing - specifically, the genre in which they feel entrenched. They accrued their popularity (I hate that word, but can't think of a better one) in a certain, ah, niche. You know the holy trifecta: angst, fluff, smut. One of those.

(I am not going to go down the road of how much I loathe the limitations of those, I know myself, this will turn trash fire and neglect you. But they are the cards we've been dealt, there's nothing to be done to change it, we must play our hands. #flames on the side of my face #haaaate #I'm done)

Anyway, they've sat here "x" year/years later and looked back at their pre-SPN fanfic foray (read: how they used to write/what they used to write), and are like - Where'd my voice go? Where'd my style go? Can I get it back? Sure I can get it back, but if I start being "me", what will my reader base do with that? Will they stick around and support me? Will they bail? etc., etc., etc. You get the idea. Reasonable thoughts, all.

I tell you this next bit because while what is going on with above writer is on the side of Got A Wide Reach, like I said in Pt. 1, I am presently on the other side, the Modest-in-Number, Large-in-Loyalty reader collective. And I *have* chummed the waters, though not entirely purposefully. And it didn't work... well, hasn't, I can't predict the future, could blow up tomorrow, but not likely. I suspect I know why. We'll get to that.

I say not entirely purposefully because I stumbled into Fluff and Smut, one of each. (There is a second fluff, but that doesn't count because it was tailored to a very specific person who gave very specific things to include for a Valentine swap thing.) The fluff was via a thing I did, and my dear friend nailed it, gave me three cringy words that were meant to hit the fluff bullseye, and I doubled down. You can see that here, should you care.

People fucking lost their shit. I repackaged it into its own post in case folks didn't like the snark in the one linked above/would rather reblog sans snark. People lost their shit, part deux. Flattering as hell. I appreciated it immensely, truly.

On the smut*, I lost a bet (I can't even recall what it was, maybe I mentioned it somewhere) with the friend that drew me into SPN because they were (are? yeah, still are) frustrated with the show and I needed a writing exercise and I had (at the start time) eleven years of source material, so hells yeah I said yes. The bet was for smut, and I said - Fine, but I can't not plot. Great, was the answer, but I had to typical it up, this was a punishment, after all. And typical, for me, means so much detail that it made brain cry. Copious detail works my nerves. Copious pondering works my nerves. Any one thing that’s too much will Work. My. Nerves. And I wrote it (it's five parts now, but part one and two was the orig piece and ended open), and said to friend "This won't get shit response" - "You wanna bet?" - me, the idiot: "Yup" - "If it does, you have to finish it out".

(*no link because I don’t know your age, and it’s set to sensitive)

People fucking lost their shit. On FF.net and AO3, that is. Not the numbers some people get, but holy hell. Hence, parts 3 through 5. Far as here, not so much the hit. But the people here who've liked it have REALLY liked it, so there's that, and it's flattering as hell, and I appreciate it immensely, truly.

And yet at the end of the day, hey guess what, say it with me now:

Now, for all my pseudo-fussing, I was cool with doing it, because at heart I'm wired to think about marketing, and I thought - Oooooh. This will bring people to the goods, the stuff I'm *really* proud of, and then and then and then....

Nope. Some yes, mostly nope. Most of my loyal roundtable were brought into the Nashooligan fold by other stories.

Here's why I think writer above got on the other side of the coin and I'm riding the edge - they went down the rabbit hole on a few, got mega results, and it fills the confidence tank, and why not wash-rinse-repeat? Humans are wired that way, we don't do things that we don't get something out of, it's normal. Thing is, they - as they see it - got lost a bit along the way. It worked, though, that squashing of their voice - "worked" in the sense that it drew the masses. Some people would be completely okay with this, would find it a reasonable trade-off; this writer isn't presently thinking so.

And back to me - I think the reason my smut and fluff didn't hit the stratosphere and draw in the masses (ergo, little motivation to do more) is because my style is still in there. The snark, the focus on accurate characterization, and like I say, I can't not plot. I didn't pullout the recipe, same ol' ingredients, mix up some standard shmoop/standard porn, flop it in the cupcake paper, bake it, then smear a thin layer of canned frosting - flavor: "Meh Plot" - around it. I made that junk from scratch, like I do all my other stories, and while I did use some of the same ingredients, I didn't go all-in. Notably, my evergreen stance that Y/N can die in a fire, ceiling optional, I ain't doing it.

I am not going to insist you read either of them, I'm just gonna ask you to trust me on this: I read quite a bit, and I've yet to see the ingredients of Reader Mommy Married To Dean Have A Baby Sam Has Dogs scenario mixed together like mine, and I've yet to see a Reader Insert Smut With Dean Smut With Sam Inferred Happy Ever After With Dean mixed together like mine.

Which, like I say, is what I suspect is probs the issue. I didn't get as far down the proverbial hole as my writer friend in terms of Typical'ing Up my stories. Could I un-ring that bell? Better put: could I start ringing bells? And I mean weekly, if not twice a week, quickie ones, throw in a lengthy once a month? Crank out the recipes? Plenty of templates to work from, after all. It would be hard for me in the sense of voice-squashing, but could be done.

So if I had to give you a vote on whether chumming the waters is a strategy to take, given those potential pros-and-cons, here's why I vote "no", both for myself, and for you, and others contemplating such.

It's partly that cautionary tale of my writer friend (and there's gotta be more feeling like her, there's just got to be), and mostly it's because of three writers I can think of off the top of my head. They're all quite talented, they consistently turn out solid, creative pieces that can be differentiated from the rest of the fodder floating around, and all three have substantial reader and/or follower bases. One has less than the other two, but nothing to sneeze at. The second - another person I've had great PMs with on the topic of wide appeal - attributes part of their success numbers-wise to specializing not in a niche genre, but due to specialty in a subset of the fandom (a specific, very popular 'ship).

The third, who has a *massive* reader and follower base, I can't get my head wrapped around, and I don't mean that in the sense of not understanding why people adore them, they deserve every bit of it. We'd have to dig deep into years of works and chart out the numbers (likes and reblogs and comments and followers - again, the only metrics we got) to see if there's a tipping point, but there's no magic bullet, so likely there'd be nothing in that data - or data from any highly successful writer around here - that's gonna reveal some secret. And this is the only writer I can think of that I'd really love to know a tipping point on, because: reason I can't get my head around it is because they don't do typical, ain't even in the ballpark of typical. Now, they do inject smut into much of their work, but plenty of other times it's just inferred. Consistently cheeky, if not snarky, if not balls-out-gut-bust funny. Consistently original, creative plots, even when it starts out purposefully trope-y, there's gonna be a slant on their take. I may not personally like everything they put out, I'm not saying they're perfect, but if we're trying to keep it objective vs. subjective, applied to The Nail framework? They're nailing it easily 80-90% of the time. I've actually got a soft moratorium on them, between stuff I find and noms I get on their stuff, I only include them sporadically on the list or else they'd be everywhere.

That gives me hope. Not-a-one of those three are cranking out stuff religiously on some frequent schedule, they write when the muse hits. Not-a-one of those three are following recipes. Not-a-one of those three are blanketing their voice.

And this goes back to the very first thing you said, about pleasing others when we can't please ourselves. Part of the reason you're not pleased is because on whatever level, your stuff isn't grabbing an audience, however big or small. I know it, because I've been there, as I've told you. The biggest part, though? It's because you know you can do better. Maybe you're cranking it out too fast. Maybe you're not fleshing out a character enough. Maybe you wished you'd taken another run at the plot before you published. I don't know, truly. But you're not digging the end result somehow. When you get there? To legit confidence? You're not going to care as much about pleasing others, you just won't. And that confidence is going to show in how you interact with others, little notes you make on gif sets when you reblog, things you say when you feedback others, all that stuff I said above.

People are attracted to confidence. It may intimidate them at first, they may linger on the periphery, but then once they see it's not arrogance or something, they'll be bees circling closer to the honey, because it... it... how to put... it rubs off. A kind've What Would "x" Do kind've thing. And most people will always welcome having more confidence, I mean, the real genuine confidence. We choose who are friends are - to be cheesy - not just because of who they are, but because of who we are when we’re with them. I think the younger we are, we get the wires crossed of "nastiness" and "straightforward". It's the difference between those folks, for instance, who snap and go all "You cum dumpster!" on Anons who word things poorly (I don't mean the ones who are vitriolic, I mean the ones who use less-than-elegant phrasing), vs. the folks who plainly reply something to the effect of "That's certainly something to consider. Thank you for your input". That they can’t discern the difference between a person dishing out hate - actual hate - and a misstep in phrasing speaks a lot to their confidence, that they’re taking a complete stranger’s words as such a personal affront.

I say all that to say: it's not about just the stories; the stories are a piece of a bigger puzzle. Personally, when I see folks being nasty in that manner? My knee-jerk thought is - They are so quick to lash out and write that stuff, and are so careless with their words, I bet their story-writing follows suit. And guess what? I have been 99.9% correct thus far. There's no OOMPHs in their stories: there's no brain-chewy, no heart-grabbing, no snort-giggles, no soul-touching. It's as typical as that comeback. It's lazy. It's easy. It's eye-rolling. It's expected.

Put another way: their lack of confidence in general is what is infesting other areas, in this instance, their stories. I wonder if - since you said “anything I’ve ever created” - that even if it was a slip-of-the-tongue, it may’ve been a meaningful one. If it’s the case, that there are other areas of life where you feel less-than-ideally-confident (a.k.a. - inept), I think you’re smart to start in this area, with fanfic, because as illustrated there’s lots you can do that’s in your control, that’s not dependent completely on others, and probably have some fun along the way, getting to know folks, getting encouragement, seeing your stuff get circulated, etc.

Do you keep a tiny notepad on you? Do that. Grab one from a dollar bin at Target or get you a Moleskine if you're feeling fancy, doesn't matter, but keep it on you, purse, backpack, jacket, wherever. I don't want you doing what I'm about to say on the notes in your phone, not yet. I want you to physically jot down by hand a word or two or five or whatever, about things you see/encounter, turns-of-phrase you hear, mannerisms you note in others - all that stuff - things that do please you. Those OOMPHs. And now you have some inspirational story points ready to go. Even if you aren’t able/feeling up to doing that other stuff above? This is an easy, small place to start.

Bottom line: this isn't happenstance.

It's not happenstance for the subpar writers, and it's not happenstance for the exceptional ones. This is work. Getting confidence is work. Style is a great deal inherent, true, but it can - and should be - honed, and will likely evolve in subtle ways as time goes on. Confidence and proficiency in a skill (like writing) are not automatic "things" that come with age, not even necessarily with experience. Dig in. Take some of the actions listed above. Start with the least stressful to you, then pick away at 'em as you get comfortable. If you're already doing some of those? Then, start again fresh mentally, as if you just today started doing them. Bump up your effort. Push yourself. See what happens. Get confident in the little things, and it will start to add up, overflow into the empty places.

Look at the pickle you’re in presently as an opportunity to alter your current methodology - I mean, we know whatever you’ve been doing isn’t working for you, right? So it can’t hurt. Batter it and deep fry it, tweaking the recipe as needed; it’s still you, but you’ve applied a well-thought-out, well-crafted extra tastiness to it. There’s people out there who will love it, and they’ll turn up.

See? 😉

#Dear Nash #NONNERS #Not Tyler Durden #I swear #Writing Tips #Writing Advice #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

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theory-talestelltalesss · 6 years

Text

∙ Parallel Hearts 1 ∙

Idea:

AU where Taehyung is a former street artist who sells Van Gogh imitations in Paris that gets him in trouble.

Description:

Her is a docile perfectionist art student who is unsatisfied with the course of her life. She meets Taehyung, a beautiful and free-spirited boy who sells Van Gogh imitations to pay his tuition for art school. They have something that the other lack. Her needs Taehyung’s creativity and Taehyung needs Her’s painting skills in order for them to produce great paintings. Her is the better painter but Taehyung is the better artist. One day, they wake up and the other is nowhere to be found. Both of their pursuit is to use their paintings as clues to find where the other is. Along the way, they learn more about each other and uncover a dark past.

You can read more details of the fic HERE if this is your first time. Or you can just read it and be surprised! Enjoy!

- TT 🌹

Chapters: | 1 | 2 | - (Fanfic in progress)

CHAPTER 1: THE MEETING

(6.9K words)

Her lived in the same town as Van Gogh when he was alive and where he was most inspired. It was a quaint little town in Arles, France. She grew up passing by the same places that he saw and painted. Although Her idolized him, it bothers her that she can never be as close to a painter as he was, no matter how hard she tries.

“Doesn’t this look weird? The color scheme? The textures? I don’t know what it is but it doesn’t look right!” Her complains every time she tries to create her own style inspired by Van Gogh.

Whilst Her is tremendously knowledgable about Van Gogh’s techniques, she can never break her style of being realistic whenever she paints. She never had the opportunity, no, the capability to fully release herself in her works. She always had the tendency to draw things as they are and never let her imagination run wild. The more she tried to be imaginative, the more realistic her paintings got. She can never steer away from it, and being a perfectionist never helped her either. In fact, it only made it worse.

It was not even just the paintings that bothered her that she couldn’t follow. She also couldn’t follow the life he lived. Of course she doesn’t want to starve and be a vagabond with a mental illness, but Van Gogh’s life was full of events, both good and bad, that she rationalizes eventually manifested in his beautiful paintings.

“I would rather die of passion than of boredom - Vincent Van Gogh,” Her reads in her book as she swipes the letters with endearment.

Although her parents see her talent as a gift from grace and supports her to hone it, they have different plans on what she should do with it. Her’s family owns a furniture store called by their last name– ‘Le Lune.’ Beds, lamps, cribs, tables, dressers, decorations– they sell everything. The dream was to expand and build more stores in other cities. However, most of the designs of the furnitures lost its appeal as the trend changed over time. Eventually, the business started declining.

When Her moved to Paris 7 hours away from home to go to college, the plan was that she would design the furniture after graduation. She knew what her future looked like. She has to redesign almost everything and help out with the family business. Perhaps even hand-paint or hand-craft some parts of the furniture to create a niche for the family brand name. A personal consultation for corporation interiors was also another idea if the business ever gets successful enough.

This plan frustrated Her because her passion is not in Interior Design – it was in Fine Arts, just like Van Gogh. As she is docile, timid, and filial, and who has deep respect for her parents and the family business, Her yields to their wishes for the betterment of the family. Plus, a job after graduation never hurt anybody.

What am I going to do with a Fine Arts degree if I can’t feed myself?

Café Terrace at Night in Arles, France by Vincent Van Gogh (1888).

The grass smells freshly cut with drops of water clinging onto its edges. The sculptures of flirtatious cherubs run across the field. The different colored flowers dance along the periphery of the bushes, neatly assembled at the curbs of the pathways, welcoming spring delightfully.

Although the atmosphere of the outside world is full of life, Her’s inner mind is in a grim state. She goes to a place outside of school whenever she feels exasperated or disheartened about her life and that place is the Panthéon. The Panthéon is a museum, or even precisely, a mausoleum for people who were the most notable citizens of France. Some of the people buried there were people of the arts she also adores.

It was the closest place from school where she can get inspired. Whenever she sees Victor Hugo’s name on the wall, she smiles, remembering his lovely works of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or of Les Miserables, which are now made into films and musicals. Whenever she sees Saint-Exupéry‘s name, she wonders how his simple ninety-page work of The Little Prince resonated within so many hearts around the world.

In every corner of the Panthéon, there is something to lift her spirits. Every corner except one. As of the moment, Her is not in the mood to be cheered up, but she’s in one of those moods to make some kind of catharsis – and staring at the Foucault pendulum does just that.

With a heavy heart, she walks over to the giant pendulum that hangs within the massive arches, centered in one of the intrados of the Panthéon. An awe-inspiring mural of the celestial sky and of the divine surround the wire that holds it afloat in the ceiling. A ray of the gloomy twilight falls down at it meters below to softly give it a subliminal spotlight, and convey it as one of the staple objects in the museum.

“…the Foucault pendulum is a simple device named after French physicist Léon Foucault and conceived as an experiment to demonstrate the Earth’s rotation. The pendulum was introduced in 1851. Today…” the tour guide says to a small crowd of foreigners.

Ever since she knew what this pendulum was for, she cringes. Not because of its function, but because it’s a sad reminder of herself.

Like the pendulum’s sway and its momentum in the air, Her’s life is already meticulously calculated as it swings along the numbers of the dial. With each dip at the bottom is her journey towards a goal until it reaches the peak of its momentum, and then it starts again. Her life has become routine and mundane from day to day since the start of college. She knows exactly where she will end up, she know exactly when, and fleeting from plans are just interpreted as irresponsible.

“My perfect parents would be disappointed in their “perfect” daughter,” she whispers to herself. “Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t I just go off and lead lives like…like Victor Hugo, where I can go to Belgium in a whim, or…or Saint-Exupéry, and fly off to some island, or Van Gogh and go to 20 cities if I want?”

After some time internalizing but despising this sad fact about the course of her life, she opposes the thoughts intoxicating her mind and stop moving her eyes with the pendulum, closing them for a moment to give herself a relief of thought. She lets go of the circular railing she didn’t even realize she was gripping until her palms turned ivory.

As she opens her eyes again, the pendulum peeks at the periphery of her field of view but her eyes chose to focus on something else…or someone else.

Her sight lands on a boy on the other side who is inside the railings of the pendulum, kneeling on one knee as he watches the pendulum with a curious concern. If her eyes are not enough resisting her will to steer them away, her ears decide to do it as well when they somewhat malfunction in transducing signals of the crowd of tourists leaving the area.

She thought for a moment that he was part of the marble statues of the historic rulers behind him. But as she stares longer…no, he is breathing and human.

The low glow of the light from above teases a hint of the hills of his handsome features. His light jade eyes that follow the pendulum obediently are striking and almost menacing. His dark ashy blonde hair is rugged and out of place under a newsboy hat with unruly bangs trying to stretch down his forehead and neck. The ends land comfortably past his commanding eyebrows and flirts at his nape, almost past its crook. A turtleneck coats his neck layered with a button-up that flows down his body, presenting him with a disheveled look.

Her finds herself captivated that she forgets to be curious as to why he’s inside the railings guarding the pendulum, or why he looks worried, or why he holds the railing with a hand that looks like it’s streaked with paint and the other props him on the floor as he kneels down.

H-He’s so beautiful.

Her finds herself captivated, for he didn’t have the beauty that celebrities on TV or models in magazines possessed. He has the kind of beauty that reminisces of an old soul. The kind of beauty that stands the test of time…timeless– like an old painting people would want to preserve for years, decades, centuries, or even forever. Not a carve of the statues or stroke of paint in the museum, even made with impeccable skill and control, do not have the force to distract her from his coincidental beauty.

She then realizes that looking at him for too long beyond abuses normal courtesy and she should look away before he notices. However, she can’t seem to take his eyes off him. As she continues to stare, he seems to feel her eyes on him, and shifts his eyes to meet hers. Her blood rushes to her head, defying gravity, resisting to flow anywhere else in her body.

She tries to follow the pendulum again with her eyes, but they resist her. As if acknowledging her constant desire to look at him, he smiles at her, erasing the worried expression he had for a moment. As if playing peek-a-boo, the pendulum covers him for half a second, and reveals him again, only becoming more beautiful with each sway. She feels a fleeting wave of euphoria before–

SNAP! BOOM! “Mon dieu!”

The ball of the pendulum hits the ground with an echoing boom, disturbing the serenity, rolling off of the marbled floor, and trailing the wire that held it. Her abruptly wakes up from the spell and covers her mouth in disbelief that the Foucault pendulum, which has been swaying for years, just snapped from above. As an advocate for the arts and museums, she knows the gravity of the situation.

She looks back at where the boy was but he was nowhere to be found. A guard picks the ball up and checks it for any indentations or damages. Since it’s almost closing time, the museum is left with only a few visitors, and only a few more who are near the pendulum’s vicinity. The guard directs them away and commands them to give the area some space. Forced, the visitors, including Her, start drifting to other corners of the museum.

She walks without direction, only following the direction of a couple of people scattering from the area. Out of nowhere, she feels a tug on her long-sleeve, hurling her to face someone’s body.

“Whoa-”

She looks up and see the beautiful boy so close that she can almost see the branches of his light jade orbs. She notices more up close that his clothes and patches of his skin were tainted with random splotches and streaks of paint. He turns his head to the side and observes another piece of art she didn’t even notice was right in front of them.

“What a weird incident right?” he says in the direction of the mural. His voice is surprisingly baritone low and velvety that she feels it resonate her vessels.

She manages to voice out, “yeah…must have been an accident.”

“Some guy is proooobably in big trouble,” he chuckles.

“I mean…that pendulum has been swinging since it’s been here,”

“Not really, just since 1902. It’s been going back and forth between here and an art museum near here. You won’t even know which one is the copy anymore,”

“H-How do you know that?”

He looks at Her with a cheeky half-smile.

“I just read the sign that was behind you…when you were staring at me too much,” he shifts his head back to the mural, “Yeah, I’m aware I’m good looking,” he gives her a glint of his lip curved at one side.

So this is his personality.

For some reason, she feels anxious that this boy will soon get her first impression and she tries to find what to say to try to distract him from her impolite behavior. She also doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing a compliment after that statement.

“I-IIII notice you have paint on your hands. Do you paint?”

“Yeah, I painted this piece right in front of us,” he gestures complacently with a smile from ear to ear.

“What?” she looks at it again confused, “But this is Puvis de Chavannes’.” Being here at the Panthéon many times, Her’s come to know each and every piece.

“Ah, so you’re a lover of the arts too,” he says with a smirk as if she doesn’t look it. She feels this boy trying to toy with her and in her own safe haven nonetheless. She can’t help but feel a little violated by this new character in her domain, all of a sudden collecting pieces of her as if he’s a scientist gathering data.

He continues, “So what’s your favorite type of art?”

“I like…Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, why?”

“Ah…so you’re one of those…I’m guessing you like Van Gogh and all those other lunatics,”

“Excus–”

“Shh!”

He holds his finger over her lips and looks at the guards. Her figures the boy doesn’t have any concept of personal space demonstrated by his sudden behavior. He seems pleased with himself earning an aggravated reaction from her, as if trying to tug her from the confines of her usual docile and timid personality. His expression impish as he nods his head up and whispers,

“Be quiet and follow me.”

He takes her hand and dashes across the humongous platform, flying by histories of sculptures of French leaders, skidding on the intricate designs of the ivory marble floors, and passing by grand murals of glorious heroes and angels. She almost can’t keep up with the strides of his infinitely long legs with her shorter ones.

They go from pillar to pillar under the dome architecture of the museum, eventually reaching a dark opening framed with geometric details that uncovers a dark spiral staircase below. He lets go of her hand and goes down the stairs with ease as she pauses to think about going down.

“Come on, slow poke!” his voice vibrates the cold marble walls and she sees him smile like a child while looking above at her through the clefts of the stairs.

“Where are you taking me?” she tries to ask but is only replied with more of his steps. She tries to process her situation before she goes down.

Why should I follow this boy?

Even though she’s acknowledged he’s a little outlandish, there’s something interesting about him that draws her in and her curiosity grows with each ticking second. She goes down with prudent steps and catches up to him.

“Come on, haha,” he gestures to a small crevice.

How does this boy know where these are?

The boy moves with too much familiarity as if this is his home. Her realizes her ignorance claiming this museum to be her sanctuary, when in fact, there’s someone else far more acquainted to it than she is.

Eventually, they end up in the crypt, which is filtered with gloomy yellow lights, giving it an eerie vibe appropriate for its type of place. In the crypt lies some of the most notable French people who’ve contributed to the world such as Voltaire, Rousseau, Victor Hugo, Marie and Pierre Curie, and many more. Tourists are now nowhere to be found.

Coming to a halt in front of a dull door, he rustles his pocket around and pulls out some old-looking keys. Her’s eyes widen in shock.

“You work here?”

“Shh!” reminding her of what she should be doing. “You know, those powerful dead people are just over there. You don’t want to disturb their rest do you?” he jokes.

Her can’t help but notice that he seems to detect her unfaltering reverence for the place. Again, he gives her that smirk while he turns the key in its hole and her heart flutters in response. One more smirk, she thinks, and it might be ingrained into her memory forever.

He opens the door and inside are slews of paintings of Van Gogh. She becomes filled with joy when she sees them but it was only fleeting. As a lover of his works, she sees that they’re not authentic as soon as she scrutinizes the strokes. She also notices some are just patches of paint waiting to be filled with The Starry Night, or The Sunflowers, or The Night Café which made her nostalgic about the time she used to pass by the cafe in the painting every time she walked home from school back at in Arles.

The Night Café by Vincent Van Gogh (Year 1888).

She looks around and there are a couple of carts that lay askew in random spaces in the room that’s filled with different-sized brushes, half-empty tubes of oil paint, too-many-to-count paper towels, and various-shaped painting knives. The boy looks like this room just gave birth to him, all covered in paint like his mother.

“You can tell, huh?“ he scratches the back of his head and gives me a wink. Her’s body is churning with adrenaline at the moment, with her heart trying to calm down from running, and that unexpected wink pushes her heart above its threshold, forcing it to somersault. She nervously ignores it and tries to speak confidently.

“I can tell they’re not real. Figured since this is not their home. But why do you have fake Van Gogh’s everywhere?”

“Well, I made these,” he crosses his arms as he bites his bottom lip and looks around the room. “I sell them to people as imitations…some people are more gullible than others though,” he chuckles to himself and sighs, looking like he’s recalling a mischievous memory.

So, he’s a witty con artist.

“That’s a little sly, don’t you think?” she squints, trying to understand why a sly playful boy would be trusted with keeping a museum that require gentle care. It bothers her also since all Her’s life, she’s been an upstanding person, always following the rules.

“I’m a student at the art university here. I work here as a keeper and paint when I got time. The Panthéon can get exceptionally boring you know, so I found a way to make some extra bucks from dead time! Gotta pay that overpriced tuition, am I right?”

“…you don’t mean PCA, do you?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Of course PCA! Where else?” he chuckles. “Because…I study at PCA,” he looks at me with wide eyes. PCA, short for Paris College of Art – my art school. “Didn’t know we go to the same college.”

“All the more to trust you!! Now, since you’re an expert in these, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with these paintings, eh?”

“No, I’m not gonna help you do your evil deeds. Plus…” She looks at her watch, “I need to go home by 7:30 and catch the next bus to campus,”

“What about I show you a shortcut out, huh?” he takes out his keys and jiggles it in the air. “I know a way that will lead right to the bus stop! And you don’t have to see it that way. I’m interested to know some of Van Gogh’s techniques too! Take it like you’re lecturing me huh?…for educational purposes,” he raises both his eyebrows and looks at her with a comically coy face.

He has a way with words, I’ll give him that.

She looks around and points out his obvious flaws that she automatically sees. She eventually settles on a painting she sees the most mistakes in, The Red Vineyard. She remembers how she used to visit her first crush by the river when she was nine, Jungkook. He taught her how to skip rocks on the water and she taught him how to catch grasshoppers. Jungkook now works at a winery in another part of Paris that's being supplied by the vineyard back in their hometown.

The Red Vineyard by Vincent Van Gogh (Year 1888).

“You know, I lived here.”

“Lived where?”

“Arles. Where this painting was made. I used to play around by this river here,” she traces the curved shape of the river on the right side, painted with stubby but glistening yellow and blue shades. “Well my family, to be exact. Of course I live in the dorms now, but I go home on the holidays.”

“Interesting! It’s like you see the world in his eyes!”

“Hah-I guess,” Her timidly says as she’s reminded that even though they’ve lived in the same city, she will never be as half of a good a painter as him. Her then starts to converse about how to make the painting better.

“Well for these,” she takes the paint brush in her hand, “you have to take burnt umber with some carmine yellow, and mix them slightly on the actual canvas and not on your palette,”

She feels him get close to her face as they stare at an area of the painting together. As she continues to speak and demonstrate, she senses a small whiff of his saccharine scent and his shoulder softly touches hers while he eagerly observes her hand move in close proximity. She’s reminded of his nonexistent concept of personal space once more.

Her and the boy talk for a time about the process of how Van Gogh creates his pieces and she advise him of his techniques. She’s not sure where the conversation turned but he actually started teaching her some things.

“Well, can’t you wash first before you paint over it so it’s not noticeable? It would save a lot of time. Plus, you don’t even have to use oil paint, just use acrylic so it dries faster until it hardens so you get a good texture…”

She’s taken aback by his innovative ideas on using materials non-traditionally. In her time attending art school so far, even art class in high school back home, she has never heard of the peculiar techniques the boy talks about. Her curiosity piques how he’s acquired his knowledge. In addition to talking about paintings, the boy doesn’t think twice dismissing what he thinks are relatively preposterous ideas of their mutual professors that they forcibly instill on their students. Her finds it amusing and it makes her laugh the way he describes them.

Ever since Her was a little girl, she’s had the habit of inspecting things in great detail, preserving it in her memories as best as she can to draw it at a later time. She observes how the saturation of colors change on a surface of a bubble, or how the ears of people lose its opacity and become pinker when the sun hits it from behind. At this moment though, what she want to draw the most is the scene that is presented right in front of her— him. She even thinks that maybe one day, her paintings of people will be as good as how Renoir famously paints his if she uses his features as inspiration.

Luncheon Of The Boating Party by Renoir (Year 1880-1881).

“Professor Jacques? Pfffttt- More like Professor Color-Within-The-Lines!” he laughs.

She responds to the boy, giving him her ears at times, but she more or less lets him talk as she looks at him to try and memorize his face.

His eyes glisten as he speaks– so much engagement in them. However, the life in his eyes are almost… overshadowed by their tiger-like personality. So focused and striking in between his long lashes. His eyebrows are sharp and fierce. His nose is straight and tall. And its placement between his eyes? Really proportionate. His lips are…what’s this oil paint color?…like Permanent Rose? mixed with a little Cobalt Violet to make it almost cherry-like. They’re shaped peculiarly though…that it really lets him easily have this scowled look. Maybe it’s because the top is more plump than the bottom…His complexion is flawless- luminescent, you’d probably need a hint of Pale Cadmium Yellow- and…what? N-No trace of blemish..hold on, there is a scar by his right lip, but it really only adds character to his looks. Still….actresses must be endlessly envious of his skin. His- Wait…how long has it been?

“Oh my I’m going to miss the bus!” she exclaims as she catches a glimpse of her watch.

Out of nowhere, she hears a man with a croaky voice coming closer to the room.

“Taehyuuuung? Taehyuuung? Where are you boy?”

The foot steps come closer and the boy jolts up from his seat, taking Her’s elbow in his hand quickly.

“Shit, Monsieur Cosmo…” he curses under his breath. “Shhhhh! Come on!” he whispers sharply.

“What’s happening?”

“That’s my boss sweet pea! We have to get out of here! C'mon, you turtle! Run!” he sharply whispers back.

He takes Her’s hand to exit, closes the door, and turns off the lights as quietly as he could. Then they run quietly through the darkly lit halls, past multiple epitaphs and tombs of the buried. Her has no choice but to rely on him on where to turn through the mazes of the museum and he becomes her sight. He looks behind her and flashes a big peculiar boxy smile that Her never spotted when she was observing his face. Her mood at the moment is a hard contrast to when she was looking at the pendulum. Her lips curve up slightly and she quickens her pace as she tries to match his.

He’s definitely an exciting one.

All of a sudden, the boy stops in his tracks and looks around the perimeter, “YYYYoouu might have to catch the next bus,” his voice drags out.

“What?!”

Her’s perfectionist side overrides and she tries to explain the bus system, her responsibilities, her homework, and her schedule the next day that would all have to be rewritten if she misses this bus. However, he does not put his finger on her lips this time but he covers her whole mouth instead, trying to keep her silent.

“Ok, ok, here’s what it is, babe. There are guards everywhere and I can’t be seen, ok? And I know you don’t know how to get to the shortcut to the outside so you’re going to have to stick with me if you want to get there. Hidden. Got it?” Annoyed by the situation, Her yields inevitably.

Her and the boy run and hide from the guards, tiptoeing as best as they can until the guards lock the doors behind them. They wait in the dark a few times until the coast is clear and moving becomes safe again. There were a few times Her made a mistake, catching the attention of some guards, but the boy protects their every movement; tugging her away if a guard comes too close, or slightly pushing her into crevices behind some pillars or statues.

At times, they try to fit themselves in small spaces and he tries to hold her as close as he could to prevent their shadows from being seen. She tries not to think about the skin contact since she doesn’t know what it would do to her judgment that she most certainly needs intact right now.

Shoot, 7:30. I missed it.

“Well! I missed the bus. Thank you but there’s no point in sticking with you now. The guards don’t know who I am, so…I’ll just walk out the front door. Nice to meet you though,” she stands up from kneeling down and pivots her heels to walk away, but the boy catches her wrist.

“Can you be quiet?? And yeah you still need me, honey. Can’t you see? We’re locked in,” he reaches into his pocket and shows off his keys, “I’d give them to you but you don’t work here, do you?” he smirks.

With slight irritation from missing the bus and from Her’s clouded mind of thinking about rewriting her schedule in her mind, she completely forgets this fact.

“Now, stick to me,” he grabs her and embraces her behind the statue of Marianne and the soldiers, then again behind the miniature architecture plan of the Pantheon.

“I said stick to me…now,” the boy must have felt that she was trying to preserve some space in between their bodies. They become startled as a guard walks only a feet away from them and she can’t help but follow his orders.

In half a second, she places her feet in between his stance and presses her body against his. Her arms fold against his chest and her head burrows in it to flil the space. His arm encircles her waist and his hand clasps the back of her head as she feels a slight force to encourage her to press closer. After a second of monitoring the guard, he moves their bodies ever so slightly away from the guard’s movements and squinting gazes. She feels him hold his breath and she mimicked his movements. In the silence, she feels and hears his heart race like a horse from the suspense.

Geez, it must be around 120 beats per minute.

While stupefied in place, she realizes he’s strangely stealthy that it makes her curious to the point of concern how he’s very good at it. The lights then turn off and they hold their position for a few more seconds.

“This is terribly intimate for a first meeting, you know, especially in the dark,” she whispers with a tone as they wait until the rustling of movements stop.

“What? Do you want a kiss too?” he says sarcastically.

“I don’t kiss people I don’t know,”

“I do,”

“Stop joking around,”

“What? We’re in France. Ever heard of a French kiss?”

She ignores his comment as she checks her watch, wishing the hands would turn counter-clockwise.

Eventually, they reach a door and the boy opens them with his keys. Without a knowledge of what might be on the other side, he exposes the night with the lovely moon and the bustling faint sounds of the city outside. A hush of the spring-born wind brushes her skin as if to say hello, wanting her to acknowledge its presence. She turns and sees the bus stop just around the corner.

“The next bus will come in 30 minutes, don’t worry,” the boy assures.

He pants to calm his heart, lays down on the cold grass, closes his eyes, and concentrates on trying to catch his breath. His newsboy hat topples from his head and his long hair falls delicately on his forehead and around his face. Her can’t help but admire how the moonlight touches his features as she slowly sits down next to his body, also concentrating on slowing down her respirations. He peeks through his closed lid and closes them again.

“You know, you’re doing it again,” he says between breaths. “Oh sorry…”

“It’s not polite to stare you know. Even more so that I don’t know your name,” “Oh…my name is Her, Her Lune, you?”

“Well, if you haven’t figured from my boss shouting it out, my name is Taehyung. Taehyung Soleil,” he smiles with eyes closed.

After a moment of huffing, he sits beside her and picks on the helpless grass.

“I guess this is my way of timing out of work,” he naughtily chuckles under his breath, “I bet that old fart was going to make me take care of that pendulum that just fell. It was actually my fault it fell but…I can’t be bothered right now. It’s almost the end of work anyways,” he rationalizes.

“You did that?! That’s why you were running from the guards?!”

“I-IIIIII didn’t mean to ok? Heh…I’m supposed to check the clicker that lets the pendulum go back and forth without losing its energy but…one thing led to another and it snapped from the hinge. I’ll understand if he yells at me the next time I go to work,” he rubs his neck. Her's skepticism and first impression just became validated.

As they wait for the next bus, he then looks at the moon with endearing eyes. Her doesn’t realize it but she looks at him again, taking advantage of his ethereal beauty under a different kind of light. To her, his side profile looks as if all the Old Masters like Leonardo and Boticelli, who tried to capture beauty in Mona Lisa and Venus, had the wrong notion of beauty– that what she’s looking at right now, is true beauty.

Mona Lisa, who?

The Birth of Venus by Sandro Boticelli (Year 1484–1486).

“Her.” his deep voice stern and low. “One more stare and I might have to do something about it,” he bites his lower lip and furrows his eyebrows. She nervously tries to land her eyes somewhere acceptable but she only finds it to follow his gaze at the moon.

“So why do you like that whacko Van Gogh? I only paint his paintings because they sell,” he scoffs while he leans back, propping his posture with his arms. Her is unsure how to feel about his sentence. He’s dissing her idol painter but at the same, she’s glad he acknowledges that other people like his works. Plus, she’s amused by his rhyming nickname.

“Well, mostly because I can’t paint like him,” she discloses. “I know how he painted his works, I’ve studied it many times and if I have to do an imitation like you, I think I’ll do well. I just- but I can’t seem to make my own paintings like his. He uses such saturated colors and his strokes are unplanned but he somehow is able to take his decisions and pull it off in the end like it was planned in the first place. When I try to do it, it doesn't look as good or as professional as his,”

“So he’s a good bullshitter is what you’re saying,” he taunts and laughs. She gives him a generous glare. He annoys her but she can’t put a finger what it is about him that makes her not be put off. She guesses it’s his brutal honesty. It’s refreshing.

She continues, “Being in art school…yeah it’s great they give you a lot of techniques to capture perspective and blah blah blah…but what they can never teach you is how to be creative. And I can’t help but take those techniques too seriously…” she sighs heavily, “My paintings always come out unremarkable- bleak- but oh, professor gives me A’s!” she said with sarcasm as she lays in defeat and stares at the moon.

Her finds herself disclosing personal things about herself to this boy she just met that she wonders if she really is that unsatisfied with her life. With her timidity, she only tells her closes friends things as insecure as these.

“IIII don’t know Van Gogh as much as you…but I learned a thing or two about him in the time I’ve been imitating his works. He said ‘I put my heart and my soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process,’” he looks into her eyes after his words reaches her ears as his hair catches the breeze of the night.

Her becomes stunned at his words. He’s never met anyone who knows something about Van Gogh’s life other than the usual trivia. How he’s able to recite a quote by him leaves her astounded and curious.

“T-That’s right,”

“Well, of course, hahaha…I love that quote ‘cuz it’s sooo funny. You know he really did lose his mind and him saying that just makes me think wow, he’s got some sense of humor,” he chuckles slightly in ironic admiration, “But you know, that’s not the point…the point is maybe you think too much and it restricts you from really giving yourself to your works. You’re supposed to project your feelings into your art, not your mind like what others think. We’re artists, Her. Our job is to convey emotions.”

“Wh-Ye-I guess,” Her’s never heard someone talk about philosophy about art before. She’s talked about life as an art student, but never about life as an artist.

“We’re supposed to give the audience what we want them to feel, not what we want them to think. Take the most famous painting in the world for example. The Mona Lisa. There’s so many things Leonardo did right in that one, but why is it so famous? It’s not because it’s painted perfectly. It’s because of that smile. It gives people an eerie feeling. It connects with you because it’s so…eughk damn eerie,” he shrugs. “Never really liked looking at that one.”

Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci (Year 1503–06).

“That’s really a new way of looking at things I suppose...”.

“Well have you ever just done something out of a whim? Like…you just do it ‘cuz it felt right at the moment?”

“I-I…not really…no…” she sighs, “I like to…plan things out. It’s how I grew up to be,”

“I guess now you know where the problem is…” he says as he looks back at the moon. “Your paintings are really just an extension of yourself. In a way, they’re you. If you say your paintings are unremarkable and bleak, then that’s probably how you are…unless there’s something in you that wants to change,”

Her is taken too aback by his response to the point that she’s at lost for words. No one’s ever really said it out loud before, not even her. His words are like a dagger to her heart but she can’t seem to reply or defend herself because deep inside her, she knows they’re utterly true. All she is able to reply back is a mixture of a frustrated groan and a sigh as she puts her arm on her forehead.

“Heh, now I see why you kept coming here just to stare at that boring pendulum all the time, looking all frustrated” he looks at the moon intently and she looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re like one of those people who cry and stare at the mirror when they do,” he chuckles.

“You know I come here often?”

“Yeah, I work here, Her. Of course I’ll remember my frequent flyers, especially the cute ones,” again he smirks at her. Well, now she thinks it’s ingrained in her mind forever. But then again, she notices he has a way of making her have mixed feelings about his words.

He just made fun of her self-pitying tendencies, but reveals I’ve caught his eye? Who is this guy?! It’s as if he wants be nice but his innate mischievous nature gets in the way.

“Don’t worry, we all have hard times,” he looks at the moon as if he’s time traveling decades through his eyes, perhaps recalling a serious time in his life. Feeling slightly comforted, Her reflects on his words for a time while she leave him in his memory.

Yeah, I guess my self-pitying tendencies are a little funny, ha.

Eventually, she finds herself looking at the underside of Taehyung’s jaw and even his nostrils from her position below as he loses his presence reminiscing. She observes the moonlight hit his face at an angle from below. She follows the trace of light with her eyes, trying to consolidate it in her memory. However, it was too late to retract her eyes before Taehyung looks back at her and rolls his eyes annoyed.

“Thaat’s it- You’re staring again. That’s more than three strikes I believe,” he slaps his hand on the grass by her head and hovers over her.

He replaces her view of the moon with his face, which is now only inches from hers. If the grass was someone’s skin, their skin would be indented with a big red mark from how much Her’s pressing against it to distance herself from the tip of his nose. His long hair falls down in her direction, framing the outline of her head. However, what is very astonishing and a little frightening is the big change in his expression. He looked like an angel from the moment she saw him, but now, he looks like the devil himself.

“Here. Take a good look!” he says sternly and angrily. His striking eyes pierce at her with eyebrows furrowed, only becoming scarier as she sees his pupils dilate and his nose flare. His jaw clenches and cuts the moonlight’s trace she was just tracing a while ago. She’d like to take him on his offer but his emanating vibe is unnecessarily terrifying. She understands why he could be annoyed by her by now but it seems as though she struck a very sensitive nerve by his radical reaction.

“I know I’m handsome, cute, hot, good looking, whatever you wanna call it. But seriously, curse. this. face! Lots of girls and teachers, even guys at the college have made me their model since day one, like I’m just some object to them but you know what? I’m not some disposable model. I’m a painter, just like them! This damn face overshadows everything else. I’d like to think I have a brain and some skills you know,” Taehyung looks at her with his piercing eyes until he rolls it back and closes them in frustration. He brushes his hair with his hand as he gulps down his next words, trying not to snap again.

“…I-I don’t think you’re just that…I think you’re a-actually smart” she stutters. She can’t help but feel there’s more to his story. How can anyone not like their good looks?

“Well…good.” she slowly sees the child-like angel in him resurface again.

Assuming the confrontation was over, she tries to get out from under him like a worm but he follows her down, trapping her between his arms again.

“Nuh-uh, sweet pea. You have to make it up to me. Come to the third wing studio tomorrow and I’ll think about forgiving you.”

A flash of the headlights of the long-awaited bus illuminates the side of his face.

Ch. 1 fin.

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kentlaura92 · 4 years

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#Youtube Growing Grape Vines Unbelievable Cool Tips #Can You Grow A Grape Vine From A Grape Seed

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supacutiepie · 7 years

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Riptide Ch.3

It happened so fast that he wouldn’t be able to recall any details even if he was clear headed. The fight, the fleeing, the planets destruction (don’t think about all those people you failed), the wormhole fracturing from the outside in (don’t think about everyone being lost to time itself), the searing pain of being ripped apart (don’t think about mamma…don’t think about mamma…)

Achilles was hit in the ankle and brought down…Lance just lost his entire leg…

(Gonna high key rec that you listen to O Magnum Mysterium during the whole, "animation" scene and pretty much throughout this chapter.

So sorry this took a wait! I have once again, damaged my leg...yeah...woo..Enjoy!)

Before Lance blacked out, there was a second of bright and blinding light that came through cracks in the window. Blue and scorching, some of it landing on Lance’s face so gently that it felt like a paintbrush against his skin…

After Lance slipped under, however, the light returned. This time it poured outward. Thick and thin tendrils that caused fissures in the glass and piece by piece tore it apart. The light poured out on the dark floor of the unknown planet and roiled on the ground like vines come to life. The vines gathered, changed and shifted their forms until a skeletal structure formed.

All at once, standing before her own carcass was the blue lion. As real and visceral as the tall trees of their crash zone. She was larger than an earth lion, and her fur was a delicate shade of cornflower until it came to her muzzle where it became darker like the tuft on her tail and behind her fore legs.

Her eyes scanned the surrounding with a piercing yellow gaze, quickly adjusting to being tangible for the first time in eons.

The sacrifice. The purest form of honor and dignity. When the body is mangled and the blood is spilled that releases the spirit from its core...then that spirit may wish to return the grace of mortality.

Blood was spilled all across her past control panel.

The hull had gone dark. The sparking metal and bearings gone cold and silent.

As well as her cub…

Azul forced her way into the heart of her body- the cockpit had been placed at an angle that made the floor slope upwards. She stepped over pools of blood and stained her paws crimson. Her cub hung limp from the harness system that had stalled- a pesky problem that she dealt with with a swiped of large and endlessly sharp claws. She caught the boy against her back, fear and concern washing across her in a tremor through her muscles. He was bleeding out quickly, and she had no way to know if there was help on the way...but she would not leave him here to die.

Again she left her body, careful to keep the paladin on her back and to not disturb his leg to much. She must be swift...this terrain was a mystery but she must be swift.

Let the wind guide me...she thought before trotting off down a clearer part of the forest floor.

The trees rose tall and mighty here. Sparse, similar to the Earth trees that she had seen when she studied the humans archival systems. Sequoias...ancient giants that watched vigil over sacred land for centuries...sentinels.

The soil was packed, cold to the touch due to the temperature of what seemed to be the entire planet.Sparse vegetation other than shrubbery and moss. An endless mass of trees….

Something came through though. A subtle wind that ruffled her fur into a new direction.The wind felt thicker as she followed. Like a being had answered her prayer and had sent her a herald. She followed dutifully, careful to not jostle her precious cargo but still maintain speed. She didn’t have enough time…

The trees were thinning out though. Grass began to brush her paws and then her underbelly as she found herself lead into a small niche of the forest. Here the typical blue flora gave in to bright yellow flowers and white moss. The air was a constant motion here too, moving through the grass in circles and rustling the flowers as she walked past. Some petals moved and emitted a faint glowing dust.

She stopped halfway through the circle, ears straining to hear the footsteps getting closer.

The wind settled, steeling her resolve to wait...no matter how badly she wanted to rush forward. He is dying.There is no time for this pleasantry.

Through the grass, a small creature appeared. Almost canine like, like a larger strain of fox- the fur was mottled greys and blacks and some flecked white.

Eyes as sharp and inquisitive as her own, it paused to study the much larger predator and her passenger.

Step forward children...time slips through your grasp like stars through the sky

The wind had warbled through the grass. A voice not real but not simply imagined filled both minds and at once the two creatures stepped forward to meet each other.

The native one studied them both once more, sniffing at the injured paladin leg before snarling with disgust and a whine of sympathy.They turned towards Azul and motioned with a swept tail to follow, barking harshly a few times.

You will be met- go swift paragon

Without pause both took off. Leaving in their wake a diluted cloud of twinkling dust.

The fox creature was faster, but pulled its strides to keep the lioness in sight. They ran till the ground became a well tread footpath, and the sky became clearer as trees became sparser.

They ran for perhaps two miles before the trees ahead gave way completely.

The creature slowed, ears perked high and eyes alert. Coming to a stop at the very brink of the woods, they listened to the sound of rapid foot fall across the low grassland and watched a small mounted party crest a hill before them.

The creature lead on, both parties meeting at the foot of the hill.

The aliens were also eerily canine like, with distinctly dog like noses and fur coverage. Each had a distinct set of painted markings- but two had similar fur and form. Their mounts were large as well, and oddly bear like? Massive paws with outstretched caws that looked blunt and optimal for digging. Each one lumbered and carried its rider with dedication.

The largest had mostly grey fur, but their was distinct grey forming around the muzzle and flattened ears. Bright amber eyes that matched Azul’s for wit and might…

They spoke, but she couldn’t translate their language now- it only sounded like harsh barks and trills. The aliens seem to accept that, attention now solely focused on her cargo. One of the more lithe aines dismounted and approached cautiously.

Azul stood patiently, willing to trust this beings only so they could save Lance’s life…

The alien stooped and examined his leg, making the same face as the small creature who had placed itself at the leader’s feet.

Another series of noises, two aliens going back and forth while the one examined the human more closely before ushering everyone back over the hill.

All nodded and she remounted her beast, aligning herself with Azul and watching with a worried face. The combined party set out quickly, unrest clearly pushing their feet faster.

Azul hastened herself, her form already exhausted from the animation the travel that she was unfamiliar with- but for her cub she would stride this planet ten times. These people would aid them, they could do something . She anticipated what though…

Paragon. Your lives are in capable hands.

The voice returned with another brush of wind that was now obviously warmer than their surroundings. It’s presence was felt by the aliens as well, who each began a series of complicated verbal chants. One word repeating over and over…

Specata…

His life bleeds into my land...I will not waste such precious life.

Welcome strangers...I pray that you are not too late.

#Lance #Lance Voltron #Langst #Amputee Lance #Voltron ld #blue lion #Lance Fuente #yaaaaay its done next ch here we go

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petty-crush · 7 years

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“No Small Affair”

-an odd, wonderful, joyous teen comedy that resonates quite well, even over patches of sparseness

-it lingers in the mind due to the strong direction and especially the magnificent, tender cinematography

-no surprise, as the main character is a photographer, and there is a warm blanket of nostalgia by both the writer, director, and cinematographer

-I actually really really enjoyed Jon cryer’s acting here, he plays a earnest vulnerability surrounded by a wall of faux cynical protection

-nice bit with all the frame with a frame as cryer’s character tries to photograph moments of empty space and animals, +he wearily notes how he cannot stand humans

-I can’t tell if his character’s voice over narration was part of the original intent, or a boardroom note. +It comes off as unintentionally clumsy in the first twenty minutes or so (as does the music)

-I laugh as I see cryer’s father figure(really step father) is played by Jeffry tambour. He really filled in that niche early, didn’t he?

-funny bit where cryer talks to his mom about his brother bringing home another fiancé, which leads them to argue about whether or not he is just saying that so he can sleep with them with impunity

-great visual moment where Cryer notices that he accidentally did snap a shot of a human and, more shockingly, he likes her. +He then proceeds to blow up several photos of her, assembling them in his wall like a giant jigsaw piece

-the mysterious woman is played by Demi Moore, who handles the role with good cheer

-I must stress that cryer’s character is 16, and combined with his numbness to his family (and those feelings coming out obtusely) this makes clear why cryer does certain acts but does not condone them

-Tim Robbins plays a wanna be punk dork, and he has his moments

-cryer is getting TV eyed by this nerdy girl who loves arcade games with coke sized glasses, and her thirst is palpable

-personally I think this girl is way more of a catch than Demi moore’s character, but there is no accounting for taste

-the fact that she’s played by Jennifer Tilly at the dawn of her jaw dropping beauty and attitude doesn’t hurt

-ok, now cryer’s brother and his fiancé is revealed and she is played by Elizabeth Daily (“Dottie” from pee wee, the singer of the title song of “Better Off Dead”) +this director has an eye for interesting and stunning women

-Demi Moore is finally found, and she is a singer in a band, reminding me of that early tori amos album where she did all that hair metal/“material girl” stuff that just didn’t suit her

-cryer’s brother is a tall glass of knucklehead with a thin layer of good hearted slobbering dog

-cryer’s awkwardness is like a beacon in the night

-there is an odd subtext of cryer’s character being a minor wandering in strange lands he shouldn’t

-the next day he goes back to the bar and overhears Moore arguing with her guitarists; perplexing moment where the guitarist says he is too old at 28 for bands and if he doesn’t make it young, he’s out the game (I call chickenshit)

-Moore goes to the aquarium to see a tumor fish to calm down

-cryer ingratiates himself to Moore in a bewildering way

-cryer’s brother has a bachelor party where they all buy him an escort; leading him to drolly note “there’s only one room in this apartment; where we gonna do it?”

-so cryer takes a under aged drink (first of many) and suggests they go see Moore sing

-the escort is touched by this tells cryer he can have her

-cryer’s blushing is a thing of beauty

-this is definitely a 70’s vibe where pretty much anything goes,

-cryer is too shy but meekly asks for a hug; the escorts laugh and adds “now that is a first”

- cryer’s mom catches them (they hilariously share a pillow to cover themselves-although cryer is still wearing underwear) and the escort excuses herself + kids in the 80’s got away with everything

-cryer boyishly finds Moore again and tries to connect more

-I don’t believe for a second Moore finds anything of loving value in cryer, but I do believe she loves the attention-the desire to be loved as a icon; in turn he can only appreciate her on a surface level + this disconnected relationship gives the film a unique emotional registry

-Moore follows cryer to school and wants to be photographed again, shocking his classmates

-again, cryer ignores the cauldron of lust that is Jennifer Tilly’s arcade girl, and I just gotta wonder why

-what is tambour even talking about with being a dope smoking kid who grew up? I find this a pretty accurate summation of a certain group of people who can’t accept they aren’t hip anymore. Pretty funny

-I also laugh at the fact the owner of the bar Moore plays at is acted by George Wendt, who did a pretty gotdamn similar role in TV. +I guess bar crawls are a mixed media thing

-this 80’s montage is one of the very, very best I have seen; the great cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmund is texturing every shot in this film with outstanding lighting and angles + it parts the oceans to let the synth music land like a ufo

-funny spot where cryer is trying to take moore’s picture, but a couple asks for a photo of them, so in one long double speed shot cryer runs around and takes twenty shots of them +kinda reminds me of “A Clockwork Orange” or “Benny Hill”

-in one of the best sequences of the whole film, cryer and moore crash a wedding for free food and drink; while she’s in the bathroom cryer is accosted by the father who demands money +his sputtering is a joy to behold

-cryer gets Moore to sing, and she totally slows down his style to do a cover of a old standard, essentially turning into a 80’s Norah jones

-this is where the film really gets cooking, this pause and abstraction shows that even with the robo music, there was a artistic bent to directors in 80’s films if they had the courage to pursue it

-this is definitely one of the most 80’s films I have ever seen; I mean that as a compliment

-in that it is a series of escapades, very loosely connected, but also surprising and varied

-in a move wholly surprising and seemingly out of a young banksy, cryer takes all his money (six grand) and has his photos of her plastered on every cab in the Bay Area

-this leads to my favorite line in the film “I’ve learned that you may be disappointed by people’s humanity, but never by their greed”

-Moore is getting all kinds of sketchy calls, realizes what happens, then freaks out and finds cryer at French class

-the French teaching is both irked and delighted at being told to fuck off in French

-cryer’s reasoning is so perfectly adolescent, and so starkly sad in his inability to differentiate true feelings and obsessions

-so after they part he goes to drink himself to death

-Moore is talked back into singing at her old bar (people are waiting around the block to see her) and she stuns then with her throaty renditions of older songs, perhaps proving people don’t want a new drug, just one in a newer suit

-I’d call bullshit but every five years some other sparkling turd carries on the baton + thus proving “same as it ever was”

-cryer has a trash bag apparel, to die like the garbage he feels he is

-thank gawd “Dottie” is here to take slobbering dog brother to find him, and then slobber bro breaks his foot on the bike

-funny jump cut to said foot

-as cryer finds out that Moore “loves” him he goes back to her apartment (which I neglected to mention is bohemian to the extreme) where she tells him thank you, and now she must go to Los Angeles

-cryer comes off as rather small here for selfishly wanting her, but, again, he is sixteen and has no healthy emotional support

-this clearly didn’t blip as a problem at the time, but now moore’s young twenties character is clearly doing statutory assault

-but I guess it’s love (or something approaching it) so sure why not

-ok, funniest moment of the film, where cryer (in bed next to Moore) calls his mom(in bed next to tambour) and says he won’t be coming home tonight +tambour says to say goodnight and then takes the phone and says “good job, son”

-like he knew without ever seeing it; he just had a hunch

-this is the first time I’ve ever seen a couple naked in bed calling another (let alone older) couple naked in bed + usually it’s a lawyer or some shit

-a long lingering look at each other in a airport, then off forever

-why am I getting recollection of “la la land”?

-so this airport has a arcade

-cryer remembers his brother saying that “love only happens once, but sex washes off” (source?)

-so, finally, (and with one more montage to establish all her past horniness) cryer goes to Tilly’s arcade girl to see if he can gobble her ms pac man fruit

-this is a very kitsch, offbeat teen humored film that is a series of escapades; there is a weird alternatively randy and sentimental vibe that permeates it; it’s also a blast and I can’t recommend it enough

#no small affair #jerry schatzberg #jon cryer #demi moore #jeffrey tambor #new beverly cinema #jennifer tilly #elizabeth daily #new bev #vilmos zsigmond #long reads #film #art

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stormyvixen · 6 years

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Blog Tour with Excerpt! The Water is Wide (The Blue Bells of Scotland #3) Laura Vosika!

Pump Up Your Book is pleased to bring you Laura Vosika’s THE WATER IS WIDE (Book 3 of The Blue Bells Chronicles) Virtual Book Tour October 1 – December 14 2018!

Title: THE WATER IS WIDE Author: Laura Vosika Publisher: Gabriel’s Horn Press Pages: 451 Genre: Time Travel/Historical Fiction

BOOK BLURB:

After his failure to escape back to his own time, Shawn is sent with Niall on the Bruce’s business. They criss-cross Scotland and northern England, working for the Bruce and James Douglas, as they seek ways to get Shawn home to Amy and his own time.

Returning from the Bruce’s business, to Glenmirril, Shawn finally meets the mysterious Christina. Despite his vow to finally be faithful to Amy, his feelings for Christina grow.

In modern Scotland, having already told Angus she’s pregnant, Amy must now tell him Shawn is alive and well—in medieval Scotland. Together, they seek a way to bring him back across time.

They are pursued by Simon Beaumont, esteemed knight in the service of King Edward, has also passed between times. Having learned that Amy’s son will kill him—he seeks to kill the infant James first.

The book concludes with MacDougall’s attack on Glenmirril, Amy and Angus’s race to be there and Shawn’s attempt to reach the mysterious tower through the battling armies.

Author's Book Page -

http://www.bluebellstrilogy.com/Books.php#TheWaterisWide

Watch the Trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1z7mHo-OxQ&list=PL1M7umb_F_hIUIeqM5z8oeaX4mGrj1afB&index=3

Add to your shelves -

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13498120-the-water-is-wide

BookBub - https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-water-is-wide-the-blue-bells-trilogy-book-3-by-laura-vosika

The Water is Wide is the 3rd book in The Blue Bells of Scotland Trilogy -

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/series/93431-blue-bells-trilogy

Author - http://www.bluebellstrilogy.com/Books.php

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07BL4LW67?ref=series_rw_dp_labf

Includes -

1 Blue Bells of Scotland 2 The Minstral Boy 3 The Water is Wide 4 Westering Home 5 The Battle is O'er

The Water is Wide is avialable in print or ebook -

Amazon - https://amzn.to/2ujdj3Z

Book Excerpt:

As the shadows lengthened, Shawn cleared his throat. “Any thoughts on where to spend the night? Is there a Holiday Inn around here?”

“There’s no inn of any sort.”

“Yeah, and that’s a problem,” Shawn said, “because last time I slept in the great outdoors, a wolf climbed into bed with me, and it didn’t really end well for either of us.” He rubbed his thigh, where a long scar would forever remind him of the night.

“You did well.” Niall cocked a grin at him. “It almost makes me glad to have you at my side, despite your infernal complaining.” The sky over the leafy canopy grew grayer as they climbed another hill.

“I haven’t complained for half an hour, and considering I’m stuck with you, that’s pretty impressive.” An owl hooted, low and mournful. “I’m pretty sure that knocks a couple months off any Purgatory time I’d racked up.” The river crackled, cold water splashing against thin ice on the edges, beside them.

“Any time?” Niall chortled, a candle against the darkening wood. “You’ll be fortunate to get as high as Purgatory, and if you do, you’ve racked up so much time there, they’ll have to kick the rest of them straight into Heaven to make room for all the Purgatory you need!”

“I don’t think it works like....” Shawn stopped at the top of the hill, staring at the sight before them. “Holy ruins, Batman. What is that?”

Niall and his pony halted by his side. The animal tossed its head, and nuzzled Niall’s arm. Before them stretched a wide expanse of broken stone walls, stone buildings with mouths and eyes gaping wide in the twilight, on either side of a long road. One vast length of wall held numerous niches. Thirty yards away, crumbling walls enclosed rows of short, stout, stone posts. Beyond it, a stairway led down into a dark maw. Bushes sprang from cracks. Trees grew in and among the abandoned structures. Shadows stretched everywhere, as the sun sank, sending fiery orange and pink rays down the center road, lighting the mist that swirled along it.

“That,” said Niall with a smile, “is our inn. God provides.” He touched his heels to his pony, starting down the gentle slope.

Shawn coughed loudly. “Uh, yeah, He sure does. The question is what has He provided? What is this place?”

“A Roman fort.” Niall led his pony down the center path, the remains rising on either side. A bird called somewhere in the trees.

“The Roamin’ in.” Shawn used English for the last two words. “God has a sense of humor.”

Niall smiled, pointing to the stairs leading down. “There. ’Tis indoors.”

“It’s a pun,” Shawn clarified. “It’s a whole lot funnier if you see it spelled out.”

“No doubt,” Niall agreed. “Shall we gather firewood? Keep any more wolves from climbing in bed with you?”

“Yes, let’s. And what keeps away the ghosts of the Roman legionnaires? Or their victims?”

“One sight of your face ought to scare any spirits back to the underworld.”

“If that doesn’t work,” said Shawn, “your pathetic attempts at music will.”

“Perhaps you could brag of your exploits with women.” Niall grinned. “Even Hades is better than having to listen to that.”

Shawn laughed. “You’re jealous.”

They picked their way over the darkening path strewn with stones. In the trees above, an owl hooted.

“What happens tomorrow?” Shawn nodded at the limping pony.

Niall’s mouth was taut. “We hope he’s better. If not, we let him rest, and spend the time learning to play the lute. We’ve shelter, walls and a roof, which is more than we expected.”

They stopped before their intended room. Shawn sighed. It would do no good to stay in the open, but the stone structure, with its empty eyes and stone stairs descending into darkness, was hardly welcoming.

“We’ll need wood,” Niall said. They tethered the ponies to a tree springing up near the ruin, left the lute beside them, and set out to gather branches.

The sky was now deep blue, the ruins cloaked in shadow. A wolf howled in the distance. The air grew chillier as they worked, till a night among ghosts looked inviting, even homey, as long as it was warm. They piled the kindling on the lowest step outside their chosen abode, where it would warm the room, but send its smoke up into the sky. Niall scraped flint, and soon, they had flickering light by which to eat their hard bread and berries. Shawn settled back, content with his stomach less than empty, and pulled out the lute. He adjusted a couple tuning pegs, tried a few chords, and began one of the songs he’d played on guitar. Niall relaxed against another wall, watching his fingers, humming along. “Let me try,” he said at last. Shawn handed it over, giving instruction as Niall leaned over the strings, working his fingers into unfamiliar positions for chords, and picking out melodies.

Outside, a pony whickered. Niall and Shawn froze, looking to the doorway, where they could see only black night beyond the glowing fire. Niall laid the lute down gently. “We've been careless,” he said softly. They reached for their knives.

“I’m kind of hoping it’s only a ghost,” Shawn whispered back. The familiar tingle of adrenaline began, a tremoring of the nerves in his arms. His muscles tightened. “Do we wait for whoever it is to come in?”

Niall shook his head. “And wait for a whole army to come in on us? If I’m to die tonight, ’twill be fighting for my life.” He rose, back against the wall, and inched around till he stood pressed by the doorway, where the fire crackled. On the other side, Shawn did the same, his heart pounding hard. Niall pointed to his chest, then to Shawn, and held up fingers in a silent count: One. Two. Three.

He sprang over the small flames, into the night. Shawn leapt behind him, knife ready, heart beating triple time, nerves screaming! The fire threw shadows across the pony, who balked against his tether. Shawn saw nothing. But he heard the crack of a twig just beyond the light. He and Niall lunged. The single crack grew into a panicked flurry of rustling leaves, cracking twigs, branches snapping back in their faces as they gave chase. Shawn ducked and swerved, saw Niall ahead, veered, and suddenly, there was a pile of arms, legs. He dropped his knife.

“Get down!” Niall roared. Shawn threw himself to the ground, hands over his head.

All became silent for a heartbeat...two.

Then the forest erupted with sound!

“I didn’t mean you!” Niall said indignantly.

“I’ve done naught, Milord! Don’t kill me!”

Then Niall was laughing, great gusty roars of merriment. “Shawn, get up! You’re hiding from a boy!”

“Don’t kill me! I can help you! I can help your hobin, Milord!”

Shawn inched his hand from over his eyes to see the dark shape of Niall sitting astride a boy who managed to flounder, fight, and cower, all at once, while protesting. He climbed irritably to his feet. “You said get down!”

“I meant him.”

“You staged this because your lute-playing sucks!” Shawn threw back into the night. “You needed a distraction.”

“Thank goodness at least you can play a lute, because the way you fight, a mouse would have gotten the better of us!”

The boy looked back and forth between them. He stopped struggling. “Milord?”

Shawn realized both their faces were showing. He recoiled into shadow. Niall climbed to his feet, his knife at the ready. “Get up.”

“He’s just a boy,” Shawn sighed. “Put your knife away.”

“Aren’t we sending boys to war?” Niall asked. “What makes you think a boy can’t kill?”

Shawn had no answer. He could think only of the boys to whom he’d taught trombone, so many years ago in the future—boys in sports jerseys, with trimmed hair, worrying about who to ask to prom. This boy stood before them in tatters. He wrapped his arms around his skinny body. His hair hung past his shoulders. Clarence. His father’s killer, as he’d last seen him, flashed through Shawn’s mind. Yes, boys could kill. He didn’t want to believe this one would. He just didn’t want any more ugliness in his world.

“What’s your name?” Niall demanded.

“I have none,” the boy said.

“No name? How can you have no name?”

The boy shrugged. “My parents died long ago, my mother in childbirth, and my father in battle. A farrier found me and took me in. He didn’t know my name.”

“Surely he called you something?”

“Red.” The boy’s shivering increased.

“Niall,” Shawn said.

Niall pressed the boy, ignoring Shawn. “And why are you not with him now?”

“He was....” Red’s teeth clacked together. He clenched them tight, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, and tried again. “He was killed when the soldiers came through. I ran into the forest and hid. They were afraid to follow me into the ruins.”

“Niall, he’s cold.”

Niall’s knife remained pointed at the boy. “Which soldiers?”

“They were English, Milord. Meaning no offense, Milord.” His teeth clattered again. “If you’re English.”

“Niall!” Shawn stepped forward, his anger growing. “He’s just a kid! He’s about to....”

Before he finished, the boy collapsed. Shawn was under him, catching his sagging body before it hit the ground.

Laura Vosika is a writer, poet, and musician. Her time travel series, The Blue Bells Chronicles, set in modern and medieval Scotland, has garnered praise and comparisons to writers as diverse as Diana Gabaldon and Dostoevsky. Her poetry has been published in The Moccasin and The Martin Lake Journal 2017.

She has been featured in newspapers, on radio, and TV, has spoken for regional book events, and hosted the radio program Books and Brews. She currently teaches writing at Minneapolis Community and Technical College.

As a musician, Laura has performed as on trombone, flute, and harp, in orchestras, and big bands. She lives in Brooklyn park with 5 of her 9 children, 3 cats, and an Irish Wolfhound.

Her latest book is the time travel/historical fiction, The Water is Wide.

Website - http://www.bluebellschronicles.com/

Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/laura.vosika.author

Twitter - http://www.twitter.com/lauravosika

Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3057598.Laura_Vosika

Hosted by:

Pump Up Your Books - http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/

#blogtour #excerpt #availablenow #adultfiction #murdermystery #mysteryreaders #TheBlueBellsofScotland #TheWaterisWide #LauraVosika #PUYB #StormyVixen

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themusicenthusiast · 6 years

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Single Review: “Plain to See Plainsman” by Colter Wall

It seems the young Colter Wall will be doing everything possible to build upon the momentum he has going for him; his debut LP having garnered critical claim. That was only about a year ago, and now he has his second full-length album scheduled to drop less than eighteen months after that first. That’s a remarkable turnaround for any artist, and it would lead one to wonder if quality might perhaps be sacrificed in order to get a quick follow-up out there. Plenty of bands and musicians have succumb to the “sophomore slump”, though it doesn’t seem likely that Wall will become one of them. Songs of the Plains will drop on October 12th (out via Young Mary's Record Co./Thirty Tigers), the title being rather self-explanatory, while the lead single from it (which doubles as the lead track on the record) wastes no time in establishing the subject matter that will define Songs of the Plains. “Plain to See Plainsman” seems to continue the autobiographical streak that Wall began on his previous record, presumably drawing heavily on his experiences of touring and the people he has met along the way. A beautiful element of that is the multiple ways it can be interpreted. “I cut through the Rockies like some unholy blade…” he begins, other lines referencing both sides of the coast, all of it being as applicable to the U.S. as it is Wall’s homeland, the Canadian province of Saskatchewan. That allows the listener to envision whatever is most familiar to them, American fans sure to picture California, or, say, Maine, while Canadians will certainly see their own landscape.

The where of it all is beside the point, as Wall uses “Plain to See Plainsman” to highlight the hospitality of the various people he has encountered during his travels, making it seem as if he never meets a stranger and is always up for whatever additional adventure might come his way. However, as thrilling and enjoyable an experience as that life can provide, the track constantly finds Wall circling back to one fact: there’s no place like home. “Plain to See Plainsman” is less a song about being a wanderer who feels compelled to roam and more about a man who relishes the lifestyle but aches for his home and the land that is familiar to him. A man who misses keeping company with those he can relate to on a more personal level; Wall not holding back his sentiments as he fleshes out his affinity for the place he was raised, the chorus having him proudly proclaiming that, when the day ultimately comes, he hopes to die there. The song strikes a wonderful balance of the desire to seek out new things and the constant pull back to the place where a person truly feels at peace, capturing the internal conflict that comes with it quite well. Then there are lines like “…I'm a plain-to-see plainsman, and this I will boast…”, which are teeming with pride, though Wall keeps it modest, his artful and brief remarks blatantly alluding to how magnificent he finds his home without feeling the need to convince anyone else of that. It’s his truth, and that’s enough. Wall’s traditional approach hasn’t been tampered with, the singer and songwriter staying true to who he is as a musician. Cut from the same cloth as the likes of Cash and other icons, he is a purveyor of country music in its purest form, a nostalgic quality always present, particularly in this song. It’s heard in the delicate, bare-bones structure and warm tones that were captured in the recording process, a subtle harmonica being the only thing that accompanies Wall and his picking at an acoustic guitar. Even that is used sparingly and only to evoke a sense of longing as Wall gently croons in his majestically rich and deep, thunderous voice. It is traits like that that arguably make his music so enthralling, because his voice is perfectly suited for storytelling, creating an irresistible pull that no one can deny. All of that results in something that is quaint yet overwhelmingly refreshing in today’s musical landscape; and despite the heavy influence of country music greats of yesteryear, Wall is by no means attempting to imitate or replicate what they did simply for the sake of doing it. Rather, that style is what complements his talents the best and allows him to excel as he pays tribute to those who came before him while carving out his own niche as one of country music’s next all-time greats. “Plain to See Plainsman” hammers home the fact that Colter Wall is deserving of such a spot. The gravelly, well-worn sound in his voice to the way he writes cast him as being an old soul, someone who has lived lifetimes longer than his mere twenty-three years. Something he will surely use to his advantage throughout the other tracks that will be featured on Songs of the Plains. Pre-order Songs of the Plains on: iTunes | Google Play | Amazon MP3 Visit Colter Wall’s websites: Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Youtube Current Shows: 2018 August 3--Pickathon--Happy Valley, OR 4--Pickathon Day Two--Happy Valley, OR 18--Panther Island Pavilion--Fort Worth, TX 24--Tonder Festival--Tønder, Denmark 29--Scala--London, United Kingdom 30--Gorilla--Manchester, United Kingdom September 1--End of The Road Festival--Salisbury, United Kingdom 2--Electric Picnic--Stradbally, Ireland 14--Festival of Small Halls--Athens, Canada 15--Festival of Small Halls--Athens, Canada 16--City Folk--Ottawa, Canada 23--Holler on the Hill Festival--Indianapolis, IN October 13--Obrian's Event Center--Saskatoon, Canada 16--Conexus Convention Hall--Regina, Canada 18--Union Hall--Edmonton, Canada 19--Macewan Hall Ballroom--Calgary, Canada 21--Top Hat--Missoula, MT 22--The Rialto--Bozeman, MT 23--Pub Station Taproom--Billings, MT 25--The Waiting Room--Omaha, NE 26--Woolys--Des Moines, IA 27--Codfish Hollow Barn--Maquoketa, IA 28--Majestic Cafe--Detroit, MI 30--A&R Music Bar--Columbus, OH 31--Club AE--Pittsburgh, PA November 2--Somerville Theater--Boston, MA 3--Higher Ground Ballroom--South Burlington, VT 5--Irving Plaza--New York, NY 8--Neighborhood Theatre--Charlotte, NC 9--Capital Ale House Downtown--Richmond, VA 11--Cat's Cradle--Carrboro, NC 14--Basement East--Nashville, TN 15--Basement East--Nashville, TN 16--The Grey Eagle--Asheville, NC 17--Variety Playhouse--Atlanta, GA 18--Charleston Music Hall--Charleston, SC 24--Opera House--Toronto, Canada 28--9:30 Club--Washington, DC December 1--Majestic Theatre--Madison, WI 2--The Blue Note--Columbia, MO 10--Meow Wolf--Santa Fe, NM 12--Belly Up--Solana Beach, CA 14--El Rey Theatre--Los Angeles, CA 2019 January 19--Commodore Ballroom--Vancouver, Canada 20--The Showbox--Seattle, WA

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minnievirizarry · 6 years

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How to Master Instagram for Business in 7 Simple Steps

Let’s begin with the elephant in the room:

No, it’s not too late to get started on Instagram.

Not by a long shot.

Although the Instagram’s one billion user mark is just around the corner, marketers are still hopping on the bandwagon by the masses.

And why not? As the platform continues to roll out new business-specific features, there’s perhaps no better time than now to build your Instagram presence from scratch.

The beauty of using Instagram for business is that the platform isn’t reserved for any particular brand, by the way.

Running a brick-and-mortar business? An ecommerce empire? Or maybe you’re a solo business trying to snag some clout?

Good! There’s an audience on Instagram that’s waiting for you.

How to Use Instagram for Business: A Quick & Comprehensive Guide

At a glance, figuring out how to use Instagram for business might seem daunting.

“What the heck do I post? What’s a regram, anyway? Why isn’t anyone liking my stuff?”

But despite Instagram’s many moving pieces, attracting followers and winning over customers is arguably easier than ever.

It all boils down to your strategy.

We’ve outlined the essential Instagram for business tips to not only get you started on the platform but build an audience that falls in love your content, too.

And with that, let’s dive in!

1. Fine-Tune Your Profile from the Word ‘Go’

Spoiler alert: you can’t do much on Instagram until you properly fill out your profile.

Where is no “right” way to craft your profile, these principles are a solid starting point based on Instagram’s best practices:

Profile photo: It’s best to use your company logo as your profile photo so people can easily identify your brand.

Account name: Make this your business name, identical to your brand’s other social profiles.

Username: This should also be your business name. Note that your username cannot have any spaces.

Website: This will be the only clickable URL on your Instagram page. Most businesses either use their website or link to their latest promotional page.

Bio: Your bio is where you will capture the attention of other users. You can either describe what your business does, hype up your website or slap your brand’s slogan here (or all of the above, actually).

Bear in mind that you have plenty of room to get creative in terms of how you craft your profile. For example, TED‘s takes a minimalist approach to its profile which goes hand in hand with their branding.

Meanwhile, ecommerce brands like Topshop boast bios that promote their store alongside their branded hashtag.

Converting your account to an Instagram business profile is a smart move, especially if your business has a physical location.

Such profiles have access to both in-depth analytics and additional contact and location information for people to get in touch with you. Here’s a good example from Chicago’s own avec:

Rather than fall victim to analysis paralysis, simply start by ensuring the small details of your profile are in order. For more tips on setting up your profile, check out our guide on how to write Instagram bios for businesses.

2. Adopt a ‘Tribe’ Mentality

With so many busy users and photos floating around on Instagram, standing out might seem like an uphill battle.

Reality check: you do not need millions of followers on Instagram to be considered a success story.

Instead of worrying about boasting big numbers, it’s best to approach Instagram for business with a sort of “tribe” mentality.

Start small. Establish relationships. Engage with others one-on-one.

In short, build your own tribe.

Make no mistake: Instagram is not an “if you build it, they will come” platform. Businesses both big and small should focus on not only building their own followings, but tapping into niche communities where their audience is already hanging out.

How do you make it happen, though? Where can you find potential members of your tribe?

Uncover Niche Hashtags

Hashtags essentially act as a search function for Instagram to find relevant followers and brands. This rings true for users and businesses alike.

And again, tapping into your target audience means getting specific.

For example, the #beauty tag has literally hundreds of millions of posts behind it. Rather than tackle crowded hashtags, consider how smaller, niche hashtags such as #unicornhair, #bluehairdontcare or #coloredhairgoals exist in which a beauty brand could realistically stand out.

Similarly, location-specific hashtags are perfect for zeroing in on an audience in your own neighborhood.

“Think small” is smart advice for brands trying to attract a dedicated following versus swinging for the fences. Oh, and Sprout can help you figure out how to get your hashtags right if you’re totally stuck on how to tag your photos.

Look Toward Your Own Customers

If your fans and customers are already on Instagram, using them as your billboards is a brilliant move given the popularity of user-generated content.

Incentivizing followers to tag you in their photos does double duty of showing off your products and signaling yourself as a brand that listens to its customers.

@jalynnschroeder wears pastel teal – and this amazing styling is by @salonk_ & @hair_bydany.

A post shared by oVertone (@overtonecolor) on May 15, 2018 at 3:34pm PDT

Shouting out your followers creates a sense of brand loyalty that most businesses would die for. The more you can show off your satisfied customers, the better.

Make Your Activity Count

Running your Instagram for business doesn’t have to be a total time-sink.

Efficiency counts on any social media platform and Instagram is no different.

Serially liking posts. Replying to comments. Following relevant users.

Between these actions as well as your own content calendar, it certainly pays to streamline your activity to save time.

For example, you should have a keen understanding of how often to post on Instagram to maximize engagement and when your followers are going to be online. Similarly, you should stick to a schedule to keep yourself from scrolling through Instagram 24/7.

In short, anything and everything you do related to Instagram for business should be laser-focused on your brand’s goals for the sake of your valuable time.

3. Publish Goal-Driven Content

Speaking of goals, ask yourself: why are you investing in Instagram for business in the first place?

This isn’t a trick question, either. The answer directly influences your entire content strategy.

And with so much diversity in terms of what you can post, pretty much any goal is fair game.

Are you trying your hand at social selling?

Just trying to build some much-needed brand awareness?

Have killer product photos that you’re itching to show off?

Awesome. Just make sure that you post content that speaks to those goals.

Because Instagram is about so much more than random selfies and snapshots, especially given its status the go-to platform to research products.

Posts like this one from GoPro are shining examples of goal-driven content in action:

Photo of the Day: Tunnel vision in the hills of Swatara State Park with @chrispolan. 🚵 Share your #weekend action at gopro.com/awards. ⚡️ • • • #GoPro #HERO5 #GoProMTB #MountainBiking #SpeedBlur

A post shared by GoPro (@gopro) on May 27, 2018 at 8:56am PDT

Eye-popping imagery? Check.

Showing off their product and a satisfied customer as well? Double check.

Providing a specific call-to-action for viewers? Yep, that too.

Haphazardly posting is not a viable strategy when it comes to Instagram for business. Once you define what it is your brand wants to do, you can begin to better speak the language of your followers.

4. Craft Your Brand’s Narrative

What better way to captivate followers than by telling a story?

The common thread between the biggest brands on Instagram is that they have some sort of narrative.

Through imagery, they’re able to speak to the interests and desires of their audience, receiving tons of love in the form of comments and likes.

You don’t need to be a master storyteller to create a narrative: you just need to let your pictures and captions do the talking.

For example, check out Airbnb captivates its audience through adventure-driven, motivational content:

The air on Table Mountain feels special. It could be the low-lying clouds rolling over the summit, or the peak elevation of 3,500 feet (1,100 meters) above sea level. Once you reach the top, your host Greg will have lunch and freshly brewed tea ready for you. Take a sip as you breathe it all in. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ For more #AirbnbExperiences in Cape Town, click the link in our bio.

A post shared by Airbnb (@airbnb) on May 26, 2018 at 9:43am PDT

Meanwhile, brands like Modcloth are all about empowerment and aren’t afraid to show off a bit of attitude:

Traffic stopping Saturday looks with #modclothsquad member @hautehijab // Find her look via link in bio ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ #modcloth #ootd #nyc #nycstyle #modestfashion #halalfashion #wiw #fblogger #thatsdarling #flashesofdelight

A post shared by ModCloth (@modcloth) on May 5, 2018 at 9:13am PDT

Even something as simple as being a helping hand providing tips to your followers is a smart move as highlighted by the folks at Beardbrand:

Adding a brush to your routine can make a huge difference. 📸: @cydneycosette #Beardbrand #MensHealth #MensGrooming #BeardComb #BoarsHairBrush #Tools

A post shared by Beardbrand (@beardbrand) on May 23, 2018 at 11:05am PDT

The takeaway here is that people should be able to glance at your feed and have a defined sense of what you’re all about. Having a defined narrative makes it easier to craft captions and choose between photos, all the while reinforcing your identity to people who might not be familiar with you.

5. Show Off Your Products

At the end of the day, mastering Instagram for business is ultimately about, well, business.

That is, promoting whatever it is that you have to sell.

As evidenced by the brands above, there are a ton of ways to show off your products without totally shoving them in your followers’ faces.

Creativity counts on Instagram unlike any other platform. Diversifying your content strategy while also promoting your products should be your endgame, and below we’ve highlighted some awesome ways to make it happen.

Of course, straight-up promo posts to announce your latest launch, contest or giveaway are staples of modern Instagram marketing.

🚨 GIVEAWAY 🚨 we've teamed up with our friends at @shoptheinside to gift a spring refresh! we're gifting one lucky winner a FREE move-in bundle (sheets, pillows, and comforter) and a FREE headboard and two throw pillows from @shoptheinside To enter: 1. follow @shoptheinside and @brooklinen on instagram 2. tag a friend in the comments on our instagram post (each tag is an additional entry) Total retail value up to $1,516.00. U.S. only, giveaway ends 5/16/18 at 6pm EST. Winner will be announced on 5/17/18 and will receive a direct message. GOOD LUCK!

A post shared by Brooklinen (@brooklinen) on May 14, 2018 at 7:03am PDT

Video content is insanely popular on Instagram right now. With the help of the wealth of Instagram apps out there, you can bring your products to life minus a massive budget.

Creative visions in our head lead to dreams realized on paper. #BeFearless #MarkoftheMonth 📷: @creative_carrah

A post shared by Sharpie (@sharpie) on Apr 30, 2018 at 11:50am PDT

Instagram for business doesn’t have to be a total suit and tie affair, either. Brands like Chubbies rely on memes and off-the-cuff videos to put their products on display.

#chubbies

A post shared by Chubbies (@chubbies) on Apr 24, 2018 at 4:50pm PDT

As noted earlier, user-generated content in the form of customer photos can be some of your strongest marketing firepower.

Rainbows GOALS! Next level color by @doug_theo #modernsalon #rainbowhair #colorgoals #pastel

A post shared by MODERN SALON (@modernsalon) on May 27, 2018 at 9:35pm PDT

From authenticity to connecting with your audience, there’s a reason why even some of the biggest brands on Instagram regularly regram photos from their followers’ feeds.

Loving spring but already craving summer. #CaramelMacchiato #Coconutmilk 🌴 Regram: @teejayhughes

A post shared by Starbucks Coffee ☕ (@starbucks) on May 12, 2018 at 8:19am PDT

And again, not every Instagram photo needs to be meticulously planned and edited. Showing products “in the wild” is more than enough to people over.

If your weekend didn’t include one of these, was it really a weekend at all 🤔🌭 #chicagostyle #everything #includinghotpeppers #chicagofood #retro #familyowned #chicagofoodie #chicagofoodscene #chicagorestaurants #chicagoeats #chicagosbest #chicagofoodgram #instafood #chicagofoodmag #chicagobucketlist #ilikefoodchicago #visitchicago #choosechicago

A post shared by Superdawg Drive-in (@superdawgdrivein) on Apr 29, 2018 at 4:19pm PDT

The key to consistency is never running out of content ideas to keep your feed fresh to keep your followers engaged and entertained.

6. Engage With Influencers

By far one of the quickest ways to rise up in the Instagram ranks is to establish relationships with influencers in your industry that already have a massive following. Getting a shout-out from the right influencer can give your page instant credibility.

Power users get approached by companies on a regular basis because of the value they can provide with a single post. As a result, some influencers offer paid shoutouts while others do so organically.

*summer style bulletin* will be wearing gold pineapple earrings with linen and straw bags for the foreseeable future ☀️ #ootd tagged #stylelobster #lelabroad #travellobster 📷 @livblankson

A post shared by E M I L Y V A L E N T I N E (@stylelobster) on May 31, 2018 at 3:01am PDT

The good news is there are plenty of free ways to connect with power users and have them mention your company. You can start by commenting on their photos, or tagging them in your posts. When you tag or @mention someone on Instagram, they’ll receive a notification. After seeing your company’s name pop up in their mentions a few times, they’ll become more familiar with you and be more likely to connect.

You can also connect with them on other social media platforms. A lot of Instagram users are also on Twitter, which can be a better option to start conversations. Don’t be afraid to reach out to influencers and introduce yourself with a Tweet. Let them know you’re a fan of what they do and you’d like to connect with them.

Another technique that’s not completely free is to offer free samples of your products or services. This approach is effective because you’re offering value instead of just asking for something. Most of the time, you won’t have to ask for a product placement or shout out. If they try your product and dig it, influencers will more than likely post about it on their own.

That said, be selective about who you send offers to. Look for users who have a history of getting their followers to take action. Also, their audience should also obviously match your target demographic.

7. Tap into the Power of Instagram Ads

Last but not least, let’s briefly talk about the growing “pay to play” nature of social media at large.

Unlike Facebook, it’s much easier to get in front of people organically on Instagram.

However, the numerous Instagram ad types out there coupled with the platform’s robust targeting is tempting for brands with the budget the experiment with ads.

From videos to stories and beyond, sometimes paid real estate is just what you need to pop up in your ideal followers’ feeds.

Although not a must-do by any means, consider how Instagram is continuously promoting new features for businesses. By getting in on ads now, perhaps you can keep yourself ahead of the game before their “next big thing” for marketers rolls around.

No, It’s Not Too Late to Master Instagram for Business

If you haven’t gotten started as a business on Instagram, don’t panic.

With an active, ever-growing user base, Instagram has proven itself as a staple of social marketing rather than a flash in the pan. For brands with a visual story to tell and a desire to grow a tribe of dedicated followers and customers, there’s still a place waiting for you on the platform.

We want to hear from you, though. Which businesses do you think are totally killin’ it on Instagram? If you’ve had trouble getting started on the platform, what’s your biggest hurdle? Let us know in the comments below!

This post How to Master Instagram for Business in 7 Simple Steps originally appeared on Sprout Social.

from SM Tips By Minnie https://sproutsocial.com/insights/instagram-for-business/

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