I am writing this from the relative peace of the Digital Innovation Lab. I'm coming round to the idea that it might be worth the 3 hour round trip each day just to get some quality work time. Drastic measure I know, but not as drastic as what I threatened last week, which was to use my bursary to move out of our family home altogether and rent a lttle flat somewhere that did not involve hanging out washing mid e-mail, picking up Teens from the station, making beds for sleepovers or spending an afternoon on the phone between Trading Standards and solicitors because Teen 1's letting agent had gone belly up and left the country with her deposit for next term's accommodation.
I love the Teens and Wonderhubby but working from home means that the distinction between the time I need to get this website off the ground and the time I want to spend with my family has become blurred, almost indistinguishable - and I'm desparate to separate them so that I can do both justice.
Perhaps it's just a protective mechanism; I want to be winding down by teatime not just starting the twilight shift and getting stressed out by all those early morning bedtimes. Wonderhubby was visibly shocked at my outburst; he could see I meant it and suggested that perhaps I should rent an office somewhere; that would be the best of both worlds. I wasn't convinced but he spent a contrite weekend off work, anticipating my every possible need and enlisting the girls to help with cooking, shopping and cleaning and making all the meals which of course made me feel even more terrible. (Why is guilt a woman's complaint?) But I did in fact achieve 2 very serious days of work and started to claw back some of my lost time and cross a few things off my list.
I'm also taking work-free days to spend with the Teens. Tomorrow, Teen 2 and I are going to a car boot sale and this is where those marketing workshops come in. I sold Teen 2 the idea of sorting out her old toys that she hasn't looked at for years with the idea of going to the car boot sale to raise some extra pocket money. It's selling the benefit for that particular customer - this last few months I've learnt a few transferable life skills. Teen 1 has a friend from university staying with us, so after the car boot sale I'm going to take everyone upto Hadrian's Wall followed by takeaway pizza and that hopefully will complete a lovely day with the family and recharge my batteries.
Last week, I had a meeting with my first mentor from the DigitalCity Fellowship. David is an expert at monetising online businesses and just what I need. To start with, David asks me what I want to get out of the website personally and what kind of profit do I want to make? I immediately picture a brand new Aston Martin on the drive complete with personalised number plate then mumble something about 'wanting to make it a respected quality website'. Perhaps after 8 years of writing and not earning anything, it seems strange to expect any kind of financial reward for my endeavours.
It's a very fruitful meeting but I rather hoped that we would conclude with a clearly defined pathway leading off into the mists of time with juicy advertisers queuing up to sponsor my website. That doesn't happen of course and perhaps the session raises more questions that it answers: questions like - just exactly how is this website going to pay for itself ? And how can I make a profit so that I can encourage local writers without becoming a public benevolent fund?
The reality check is that I need vistors to the site and lots of them and data on what kind of listeners they are. David knows that it's going to take some time to build up those kind of numbers. I hate to think of my loyal listeners as a marketable commodity to advertisers but if I'm going to get funding to finance content that they want to listen to, then that's what I'll have to do.
There's going to be a lag time whilst the potential numbers are built up. Where will that finance come from? At present that's me - paying for all my audio dramas and the recordings of other writers reading their own work. That can't carry on indefinitely and certainly not at the rate needed to sustain a dynamic, creative website. David suggests paying for downloads; I try to resist this. Part of the ethos of listenupnorth.com is to make it simple to use and accessible. I believe that not having to put your credit card details in removes a barrier to use and builds up trust with the customer. David really thinks that you would expect to pay for downloads, after all you would for music. I don't want to charge very much, so would it be worth paying online? But apparently online customers can set up small payment accounts. I'm running out of excuses and David points out that some things on the site could still be free and available.
I suggest free to stream but pay for downloads but apparently it's quite costly to put online facilities on a website so that would have to be budgeted. Another idea is to give a certain percentage to charity, that way people wouldn't mind paying and it would create a positive image for the website.
David left me with lots of things to ponder and suggested a working on a flowchart as to how things might progress financially. I though this was a good idea as being a scriptwriter, I'm a fairly visual person and after years as a research pharmacist, my logic is well developed, even though as a creative person I try to suppress it.
The next morning, David leaves to go on holiday and a few days later I receive an e-mail from Spain asking how I am getting on. Doesn't this guy ever switch off? I e-mail him back and make out it's all under control - well sort of. In truth, I feel that I'm going round in circles rather than a straight line but I don't want to spoil his morning on the beach. The flowchart hasn't yet materialised but I have earmarked a big piece of yellow paper on which to place my master plan. But first, I've got to hang this washing out.
