Lupe Farkas

Dear rebels…

Yesterday I had the loveliest day.

No, I didn’t sell books.

But I honestly think the feelings yesterday generated in me are probably very similar to what I’ll feel the day I open my KDP dashboard and see that I sold 50 books.

Maybe even better.

Three Books. Three Completely Different Emotional Injuries.

And obviously I had to write that in the review because journalism requires accuracy.

Rebels, I am here to tell you something nobody warns you about:

After the reviews went live, I chatted with the authors.

Then came more emails.

More messages.

More conversations.

And suddenly I knew these humans a little better than I had the day before.

I went to sleep ridiculously happy.

And then I woke up to even more emails and kind messages.

That was when I thought:

The indie authors.

The readers.

The people leaving thoughtful comments.

The people laughing with me.

The people teaching me things.

The people letting me into the strange, vulnerable little worlds they created inside their books.

That matters.

A lot.

And Of Course We Need Our Laugh of the Day

Because rebels…

Look around.

I think the world needs a little more of this vibration right now.

Laughter. Joy. Hope. Community.

Maybe none of us can fix everything.

But maybe if enough people keep putting a little kindness into the world, something shifts.

Slowly.

Quietly.

One person at a time.

Okay.

Okay.

Sorry.

I haven’t even had my Coke Zero yet today and apparently I’ve already become philosophical.

Let’s correct that immediately.

Yesterday LinkedIn delivered something special.

A new connection asked whether I had a website.

I sent him LupeFarkas.com.

Then he asked if he could give me some constructive criticism without offending me.

Of course.

Rebels…

He said he would review it.

I waited.

And waited.

And at 11:47 p.m. I finally asked:

Rebels.

It was.

Nine minutes later, the diagnosis arrived.

And this is where the whole thing actually became interesting to me.

I was not offended.

I was disappointed.

I had been promised professional criticism.

So give me the professional criticism.

Tell me where the problem is.

Tell me what behaviour you think it creates.

Tell me what you would change.

Tell me why.

Tell me what result you would expect.

Because “basic” and “flat” are not diagnoses.

They are adjectives.

And if you are selling expertise, I am interested in the part that comes after the adjective.

But Something Useful Was Hiding Inside the Flatness

Apparently he looked at the homepage and did not discover The Chosen.

Now THAT interests me.

Because maybe the useful question is not:

“Is this website flat?”

Maybe the useful question is:

Maybe The Chosen should be more prominent.

Maybe Books, Reviews, Podcast and the Indie Author Experiment need even clearer paths.

Maybe someone entered the foyer and never realised there was an entire house behind it.

Now THAT I can work with.

That is a UX question.

That is something I can test.

And Maybe This Is Where People Misread Lupe Farkas

If You’re Really an Expert, Come Play

So if you are a real expert and genuinely believe in your expertise?

Come play.

Tell me:

Change this.
Test this.
Move this.
Try this headline.
Publish at this time.
Your conversion path breaks here.
This page needs this.

Give me something concrete.

I will probably test it.

And if it works?

Oh, I will tell everybody.

Your name.

Your surname.

Your website.

Your links.

I will scream from the internet rooftops:

Because expertise should survive being tested.

And if you really believe in what you know, this experiment should be fun for you too.

Knowledge Grows When It Is Shared

Why?

Because knowledge grows when it is shared.

Because somebody taught me too.

Because there used to be something beautiful in professional life:

People built relationships before they built invoices.

They created networks.

They shared ideas.

They helped solve problems.

They showed how they thought.

They created synergies.

And eventually, yes, financial opportunities came from those relationships.

I’m not saying professionals should work for free.

Of course not.

Expertise has value.

Work has value.

Time has value.

But there is a difference between sharing one useful thought that demonstrates your expertise…

and looking at a project for thirty seconds and thinking:

How do I get into this person’s wallet?

Also, Rebels… I Already Tried Throwing Money at the Problem

And that is exactly why this experiment exists.

I want to see what happens when I stop solving every visibility problem with my debit card.

Maybe paid advertising eventually becomes part of the answer.

Maybe it doesn’t.

But first I want to understand what content, SEO, reviews, community, networking and distribution can do.

I already tested spending.

Now I’m testing knowledge.

And There Is the Coke Zero Budget

And Then Someone Actually Read the Experiment

And because the internet occasionally restores my faith in humanity, this comment appeared.

So How Did the Internet React to an Overpowered-by-Coke-Zero Lupe Farkas?

The website closed September 15 with 73 views, up 92.1%, and 30 visitors, up 87.5%.

Instagram woke up.

LinkedIn moved.

Tumblr somehow joined the black-magic cult and gave me three followers.

Pinterest had not even been properly fed yet.

And the podcast?

That needs feeding today.

So the experiment continues.

Whatever Happens, This Is Already Worth Something

Maybe this experiment works.

Maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe at the end I discover that an indie author really does eventually need a serious marketing budget to produce consistent sales.

Fine.

That would be an answer too.

But rebels…

We are learning.

We are laughing.

We are meeting people.

I am discovering incredible indie authors.

People are sending me beautiful books.

Strangers are becoming conversations.

Conversations are becoming connections.

And sometimes someone tells me my website is flat and accidentally gives me tomorrow’s content.

So really…

everybody wins.