For some reason, probably bills or the kindness of strangers, or maybe, just the present position of the planets, I was thinking about the site’s subscriptions.
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[/style>Works a number of ways, really. The idea, when I started it a couple of years ago, was to get a broad base of subscribers and then gradually do away with other work. Sort of worked, and as an idea, I have to say, it’s been successful so far. The site is paying for itself. but it’s not paying a salary, and being solely dependent on the other avenues is seriously taxing my lifestyle.
The problem is getting the point across. Free stuff doesn’t get any consideration. No one seems to care that the free horoscopes are so loaded with advertising, or that most of the free horoscopes aren’t even original material, merely recycled bits from previous scopes. One author confided that after seven years of scopes, all one ever really needed to do was recycle the same material. Over and over. While I’ve been accused of that, the nuance and the meat of the message has actually varied. Not unlike other writers, I do have crutch phrases, but in the editing process, I’ve gradually learned to unlearn the bad habits. Some of them anyway. It’s all about process.
Four years ago, I was talking with a regular “Fishing Guide to the Stars” reader, Leo, if I recall, and she was interested in that she knew a fair amount of astrology herself, and how that came into play with what I did. Unlike some columns. The point I was working towards, at that time, was trying to keep the site open and free. Seemed like the thing to do. Later, I was motivated to put my money where my mouth was, and I switched to a “pay per view” type of arrangement. Which I like even more.
I was thinking about that conversation in a coffee shop, in Seattle, because I’ll be back that way. Don’t know if I’ll have that conversation all over, or if I will be forced to eat my words. But the face of the web and the nature of my business, plus a healthy dose of understanding human nature, has changed my outlook.
First off, there’s the simple fact that most people don’t put any value in free advice. Surf the advice columns and find someone who writes something that is palatable. Dig deep enough, and someone will support a personal opinion, I’m sure.
The free material, especially in my line of work, is essentially crap. The other side, the sites that do charge? The ones I’ve looked run $20 or more – per month. I’m charging a measly $2.95. That’s different, lower price, but attaching a price tag, nonetheless.
Another comparison has much better market penetration than I do. Oddly enough, originally from Lubbock. Cancer sun sign. With a weekly message that costs $1.99 per minute and averages 3 minutes per week. Six bucks a week, or roughly $24.95 a month. Your mileage may vary.
So the price point, and what I did when I set up the subscriptions to begin with, is a direct challenge. The mechanics of the subscription service are idiot-proof. Which means I usually have to assign passwords myself, since my readership tends to be a little more literate. I’ll admit, some interface designed for an idiot will confound the clever people. That’s one I understand too well.
A while back, Network Solutions offered a deal on a ten-year package for my domain name, and I took the bait. Like the fish on Tuesday morning (it always comes back to the fish doesn’t it?) So the name will stay. I’m just wondering if I’ll be eating these words in about four more years.
Worried? Don’t be. Most of the skeleton is already in the closet, ready to go. Just needs some flesh.
Two-Meat Tuesday
Outlandish product placement? Fish. always got to have some fish, too.
Cherchez le poisson:
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[/style>Over by Barton Creek, just off the hike and bike trail, there’s a little spot I know. Family friend from years gone by called me up, Mercury is retrograde, and her son wanted to fish. I showed them my super-secret spot, and we fished most of the morning, which included good coffee and several boxes of worms. I gave the kid, he’s a ten-year old Aries, a couple of jigs. No loss for me, and he was using some saltwater gear, so I was just trying to help. Trees, rocks, turtles, everything but fish. Oh, to be sure, his mom caught the first sunfish of the day. Biggest one, too. I lost hooks, lines, sinkers, and I finally just resorted to a hook, a worm, and a tiny weight, 1/32 of an ounce, I guess. Couple of tiny sunfish, and then that one.
The bad part? On the trail back to the trailer? Me and the kid, well, he started it – that’s my excuse. He let loose with belch that rattled nearby windows. So we had a bit of belching contest. So check out the picture, Das Rheingold T-shirt. stupid grin, but at least I caught a bass.
I’m not sure what was the best part, watching while the kid was singing to himself as he was fishing or the belching contest. For a diminutive form, he sure could get some good volume.
His mother rolled her eyes at me, “Don’t. Encourage. Him.”
Name sake’s:
Two-meat platters are best when accompanied by either interesting questions or a Houston Chronicle. I was queried, as I made my way towards the door, about dream interpretations. Not my strong suit, for sure, but I could answer a few questions about symbolism. It’s in my nature.
But it was this story that garnered my attention, first. Politics, Texas-style, religion and health, plus a healthy dose of cash.
The way I read it, the good doctors were opposed to renaming their place of employment after an ambulance-chasing lawyer who made most of his money by suing those self-same doctors. Could just be the way I read the article, too, but I found the situation inherently funny, albeit in my own, twisted way – very amusing. Personally, I’d side with the doctors on this item – but I’ll suggest that there’s probably more to the story. So far, the administration, the doctors, the foundation, and where’s the truth?
Which is why I’ll occasionally buy a Houston Chronicle. Best paper in Texas (for humor).
