19 potent ways to turn your blog into pure currency (like, immediately)

 

Hey, you. Intrepid blogger.

You started your blog for a reason. Even if it wasn’t clear as spring raindrops at the time.

So, flicking back through your archives, what’s the big WHY behind all the WordPress wear ‘n tear?

What is your blog-baby blossoming into?

A portal for self-expression? A community platform? A springboard for product sales? A mysterious virtual atelier? A diamond in the rough & tumble Internet void?

A place to change minds, open hearts, inform, educate, inspire awe & delight — and make some cash, while you’re at it?

I certainly hope so.

Behold — 19 potent ways to turn your blog into pure currency (like, immediately). Please sip with a realism-chaser, and the knowledge that most (nay, all) “pro-bloggers” carve out multiple revenue streams (both online and off) to fill their coffers.

But you’ve got to begin somewhere. And to paraphrase the legendary Sioux leader Crazy Horse,
“today is a good day to monetize.” (Pretty sure that’s what he said, anyway.)

 

1 :: GET PAID FOR YOUR PRECIOUS ‘PINIONS :: If you write on a niche topic — say, beauty, vegan baking, bein’ a mama, BD/SM safety, all of the above — and you have a decent readership, you can easily persuade companies to send you freebie products, or even pay you to spotlight their wares. Of course, there’s a fine line between transparent promotion and tricky manipulation. My advice? Put a statement somewhere on your blog, letting your readers know that you only promote products you genuinely ADORE, whether you paid for them — or they paid for you.

 

2 :: OFFER A ‘QUICKIE’ :: The Tarot Lady offer a 15-minute reading (via email) for $15. Erin Loechner of Design for Mankind invites her readers to “Ask A Question” for $50 to $75. What could YOU offer (and put a pricetag on) for 15 minutes of your brain-time? An instant résumé review? A knee-jerk website appraisal? Insta-filtered relationship advice? Sometimes, brilliance doesn’t need to simmer for long.

 

3 :: FEATURE (CAREFULLY CURATED) ADS :: As a blogger, you can completely dictate the structure & pricing & thematic slant of your advertisers — and prices can go uppity-up, as your audience increases. Create a Google Analytics account to track your traffic, so you can feed prospective advertisers your stats. Then create a tab on your site with all the juicy sponsor details. Want some inspiration? Roots of She and Kind Over Matter have this down pat. Need a gorgeous banner or badge? Talk to Kate Caprari at Ads with Intention for all your design needs.

 

4 :: OPEN THE DOOR FOR DAILY SPONSORS :: A clever spin on traditional ‘advertising’ — let sponsors get a mega-watt spotlight on your site, for a single day. As in, “Today’s programming is brought to you by……” Need an example? The boys at Unicorn Booty have got this down to a T.

 

5 :: HOOK SPONSORS FOR ‘SPECIAL EVENTS’ :: Planning a virtual summit, teleseminar, or educational event? Rock it like an offline convention, and hook sponsors into the mix. Goddess Leonie’s World’s Biggest Summit is a gorgeous example of rallying support around a super-special event.

 

6 :: RALLY MOMENTUM AROUND YOUR MEGA-LAUNCH :: If you’re gearing up for a massive launch — your new book, your new website, your new line of exotic flower essences — crowdsource funding from the masses, with a Kickstarter or IndieGoGo campaign. Parachute Promise is doing a campaign to raise funds for a major website overhaul, and Jessica Swift recently did one to release a line of techni-color patterned rainboots. It’s like online fundraising, market testing, and ideal customer crystalization, all rolled into one.

 

7 :: BIND TOGETHER A ‘BEST OF’ PRODUCT :: Pluck out your top 25 articles on [ candle-making / SEO optimization / puppy training / angel whispering ] and arrange them in a stylized PDF, with a few bonus worksheets and a hot resource guide. Hello, insta-product!

 

8 :: CRANK OUT A ‘Q&A’ product :: Ask your readers to submit their gotta-know questions on [ candle-making / SEO optimization / puppy training / angel whispering ], arrange their Q’s (and your A’s) in a stylized PDF, with a few bonus worksheets and a hot resource guide. Howdy, insta-product number two!

 

9 :: TURN OUT A ‘TUTORIAL’ PRODUCT :: Create a series of how-to tipsheets (or screen-capture tutorial videos) on [ candle-making / SEO optimization / puppy training / angel whispering ], arrange the mini-guides in a stylized PDF, with (you guessed it) a few bonus worksheets and a hot resource guide. Greetings, insta-product number three!

 

10 :: BUNDLE YOUR PRODUCTS INTO ONE ULTRA-LOAD :: You’ve got three (or more) faboosh products by now, yes yes? Bundle all of ‘em into a single package, at a price-point that triggers an immediate YES.

 

11 :: STRIKE UP AN AFFILIATE PARTNERSHIP :: As an affiliate, you’ll promote someone else’s program or product, using a coded hotlink (or snazzy banner or badge). Most affiliate partnerships include a commission of 30 – 50%, and get paid out through PayPal, once or twice a month. As with any paid endorsement, you should ONLY promote products that you completely believe in, either through direct exposure or a tender connection to the product’s creator. Empty-praise doesn’t sell (very well, for very long.)

My affie relationships, at the mo’ :: THE SPARK KIT by Danielle LaPorte (a modern classic), Hiro Boga’s Become Your Own Business Adviser course (transformative), Jen Louden & Michele Lisenbury Christensen’s Teach Now program (get over your timidity and just TEACH already!), and Erika Lyremark’s Morning Whip experience (wake up HOT for your business).

 

12 :: TAKE A TRIP THROUGH THE AMAZON :: Didja know you can create your own personal Amazon Associates aStore, spotlight all your favorite books, movies, incense holders, steel cufflinks, organic coconut butter and glitter lipgloss? And get click-through commissions for every product sale? Well, you can.

 

13 :: SLIP INTO A REFERRAL RELATIONSHIP :: Some service providers offer a modest stipend for successful client referrals. Which is a fancy way of saying, “I introduce Mary Jewel to Peter Bingo, and recommend that Mary hire Peter as her graphic designer. Peter gets the gig. Peter gives me $50, in grateful reciprocity.”

Personally, referral commissions make me feel squicky, and I don’t engage in them — as a referrer, or referee. I prefer to highlight my heart-plucked recommendations, without conditions. But some folks L-O-V-E referral relationships, and they can certainly incentivize your allies to mobilize on your behalf. My advice? Follow your gut.

 

14 :: ALMS, ALMS, ALMS FOR THE POOR :: Set up a donation widget in your sidebar, with a stylized PayPal button. A tip — give your readers a compelling (or charming) reason to donate (“Buy me a dirty-chai, and trigger my next epiphany!”), or risk looking quasi-desperate.

 

15 :: HOLD A VIRTUAL SIDEWALK SALE :: Globe-trotter Sarah Von Bargen did a digital garage sale to clear her apartment, before she embarked on her (most recent) round the world trek. She posted photos of featured items on her blog, Etsy-style, and sold ‘em through PayPal. Clean sweep. Ca-ching.

 

16 :: RE-PURPOSE DUSTY ARTICLES :: Got a boatload of content in your archives, collecting dustmites? Sell a few articles to an online magazine or article-factory, like Suite101. Note of caution :: you might have to remove them from your own site to do so — or revamp some of the language, for SEO purposes.

 

17 :: ESTABLISH UP A ‘VELVET ROPE’ SECTION :: It’s surprisingly simply to slap up a private membership section for your site, with platforms like Ning, Kajabi and iGr00ps sprouting up like mushrooms after a thunderstorm. What kind of exclusive content could you deliver, to your blog-VIPs?

 

18 :: POST NEKKID PICTURES :: Kidding, kidding. Though it seems to be working for Mr. Colin Wright of Exile Lifestyle.

 

19 :: REFRAME YOUR DEFINITION OF ‘CURRENCY’ :: Many bloggers get invites to exclusive experiences, which can serve as a form of ‘social currency’. I recently got tix to a final dress rehearsal of Minnesota Opera’s Cosi Fan Tutte, with a pre-show intro from the (young, sexy, dirty-blonde, Eurochic) conductor himself. And some delicious sushi. On the haus. Quite literally, an experience that money can’t buy. Open your mind to alternate forms of affluence…and let the perks come a’calling.

 

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You chose your challenges. And you chose right.

 

There’s a Celtic legend that before we incarnate and drop down to earth, we spend some pre-mortal time in a cosmic waiting room. All fluffy and white and spacious-like. I think they have Guinness on tap.

And while we’re waiting for our next turn on earth, we have to choose the challenges that we want to contend with, in our lifetime to come. Poor eyesight? Weak arches? Chronic depression? An insatiable need for recognition & praise? Acne? Asthma? Anxiety? Egomania? Insomnia? Lactose intolerance? Abandonment? Unspeakable loss? Grief? Paralyzing doubt?

As the story goes :: we choose our challenges with discernment. We choose them with certainty. And we choose them because–evolutionarily speaking–we’re ready to handle them.

But before we take the big leap down to Mama Gaia, an angel presses her finger between the tip of our nose and the top of our lips, creating a little dip (feel it?). And with that dip (plot twist!) our memories are erased. We fall to earth, with our challenges self-assigned–but we have forgotten what we chose. We are living, breathing Tabula Rasas. ‘Cause where’s the fun in omniscience?

I first heard this story from Grace, my favorite Welsh Witch, on a Tuesday morning Skype chat. She compared the process of choosing your challenges to selecting your university courses, before the first day of class.

“I like to say that I chose the accelerated PhD program in challenges,” she giggled. At 23 years old, Grace is living with advanced osteoporosis, among other physical struggles — though she adamantly rebukes the “sick chick” label (way too limiting, and woefully inaccurate), preferring to call herself a wellness “trail blazer” (now that’s more like it!).

Approaching your challenges as if you CHOSE them flips the whole notion of suffering on its ear. And while it’s just one possible lens through which to view our very complicated world, it is — in my opinion — a very empowering stance.

It’s not a disaster–it’s the soul-stretch you selected.

It’s not a set-back–it’s the empathy-accelerator you asked for.

It’s not a consequence–it’s the cloaked reward you custom-ordered.

It’s not your worst-case scenario–it’s the cleansing bonfire you pleaded for. The one that burns the way to greater wisdom, service & serenity. The one you chose with good reason, because, well… maybe you had your reasons.

 

“But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
To let the next life off the hook
But she’ll say look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think I’ll write a book.”
–Indigo Girls, “Galileo”

 

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Got smarts? Got heart? So, why aren’t you TEACHING yet?

 

Guilty confession: I feel called to teach.

Not in a saucy schoolteacher rulers-on-your-knuckles kind of way. (I got Lasik eye surgery a few years back, so the bespectacled temptress look is right out.)

More in a…“hey, I’ve been there. Tried that. Failed here. Soared there. And I’ve packaged my life experience, flexible formulas & intuitive brilliance into an experiential learning experience, for you” kinda way.

So simple, right? So nonchalant. So easy.

Except, when I sit down to hash out my crazy-sexy-cool initiation-meets-certification program for promotional writers & digital scribes who want to be sought-after, affluent & sensationally persuasive…
I freeze. Me? Teach? People? It’s like there’s a section of my brain exclusively devoted to cranking out excuses as to why I should zip my lips, snap my chalkboard in half, and slink back down to where I belong.

Some of my mind-tank’s most popular excuses:

:: I’m 26. Way too young. No one will take me seriously. They’re all gonna laugh at me, mom!
:: I need at least 10 (20, 40, 100) more years of experience before my knowledge will be worth sharing.
:: I’m ultra-confident with 1-on-1 dynamics. But leading a group? They might text their friends & throw spitballs at me! Lord of the Flies, unleashed!
:: I’ve never (really) done this before. Except that one time. And that other time. But still. Not really.
:: What if my class doesn’t sell out? And I look like a damn fool? Some promotional wordsmith I turned out to be. Buh-bye, credibility. Hello, prison (side note :: all my ego-driven nightmares end in prison.)
:: What if…dun dun dun…I just plain SUCK boots? Like, at everything? Evermore & always?

I realize, on an intellectual level, that most of my excuses are ridiculous. But they feel true. At least, 50% of the time. And that’s a very real obstacle, when you’re trying to sizzle with creative, instructional excellence. Negatory cacophonies nix new potential.

Folks? I’m over it. I’m clearing (most of) the month of December to hone my public speaking chops with the masterful Gail Larsen, talk to my inner child (and unicorn & panda bear) with the incredible Hiro Boga, and rally myself for 2012. The year that I teach. With total commitment.

‘Cause if there’s anything I’ve learned during the past 525 days of full-tilt entrepreneurship, it’s that what comes effortlessly to one person can be a revelation for somebody else. And that’s why we’re all natural-born teachers. Whether we embrace it, or not.

Epilogue :: Extra-credit

This Wednesday, September 21, 2011 at 10am PST / 1pm EST, multiple-bestselling author Jen Louden & Fortune 500 coach / orgasmic meditation instructor (uh-huh) Michele Lisenbury Christensen are leading a class called “Dissolving Obstacles to Teaching Effectively and Joyfully.” They’ll show you how to close the gap between between how you aspire to teach & where you are today. Even if you don’t have your shit together. Even if you’re not an “expert.” Even if calling yourself a Teacher (with a capital “T”) makes you break out in hives.

To get a FREE PASS to the class–and info about Jen & Michelle’s upcoming Teach Now program–hop over here, and drop your name & email beneath the sunny-yellow “Subscribe Me!” invitation.


 

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10 Ways Your Website Is Breaking My Heart (And How To Take The Pain Away)

 

Prologue

The following message teeters right on the edge of SNARK. Those with thin skins (and those suffering from ego blows or recent break-ups) need not read on. Go have a cuppa tea, and swing back next week.

BUT :: if you’re harboring the suspicion that your website isn’t reflecting your highest intentions…that you’re leading your clients, customers & readers on a digital wild-goose chase…or that there’s polishing up to be done, if only you knew where to begin…read on, sweet thing. I want only the best for you, your web presence, and your fine work, on earth.

 

10 Ways Your Website Is Breaking My Heart (And How To Take The Pain Away)

1. I see the words “Coming Soon!” Like, anywhere.

The only time the phrase “Coming Soon!” is even remotely exciting (or believable) is in the bedroom. And you know it.

If you’ve got a new offering on the horizon — but it ain’t time to launch — write a mini-teaser sales page, drop in a few pieces of advance praise, and create a “Sign up to find out the MOMENT we launch!” mailing list form. So much sexier (and more credible) than the lust-draining promise of a “Coming Soon!” page…

2. You took your headshot in a dimly lit room, with a webcam. And I can see your terry-cloth robe hanging on a hook, behind your pretty face.

Get a set of professional headshots. Natural lighting or studio brights — it don’t matter. Hire a starry-eyed art school undergrad, if money is tight. Give yourself the gift of YOU…looking your best.

3. When I go to your testimonial page, all pumped up to read your Rave Reviews, I see…three bits of praise. No headshots or avatars. And everyone’s name is something akin to “Jane P., USA”

I don’t care if you’ve been in maximum security prison for the last ten years, or living in your momma’s basement, or hiding out in a Hooverville shantytown. EVERY service provider, freelancer, product maven or professional creative can curate a MINIMUM of ten testimonials. With headshots. And full names.

And there’s a myriad ways to pull ‘em together — from Talk-Back forms, to recording client calls & transcribing the love, to Tweet-stimonials, and beyond. More on that jazz, right here.

4. You’re a local business with a brick ‘n mortar location, and it takes me five minutes to figure out where the heck you’re located.

For the love of sweet Kwanzaa, put your geo-location at the top (and bottom) of every. single. page. Preferably with a hotlink to a GoogleMap. And take a cue from Marie Forleo, and get yourself registered with Google Places (it’s FREE!) so that when your prospects Google “holistic lavender-scented colonic + New Orleans” your biz pops up on the map.

5. Your sales page feels custom-tailored to exacerbate my greatest fears, and click “BUY NOW” from a place of sheer agony & self-loathing.

I wrote about (slash viciously mocked) this phenomenon, here. And Fabeku put together an entire teleseminar on how to create loving, compassionate sales pages that (still!) pull in the cashola. You can download the full conversation right here.

6. I see generic Twitter, Facebook & LinkedIn widgets or nasty yellow PayPal buttons that don’t match the aesthetic of the rest of your site.

Why put on an Alexander McQueen couture gown, and then slap tawdry Velcro sneakers on your feet?

You know you can upload a custom image when you’re generating your PayPal payment & donation buttons, right?

Luscious details matter. Especially when money is involved.

7. You’ve got images or badges that link to nowhere…or link to the exact same image, only bigger, on another page.

FACT :: human beings instinctively click on images. They might as well lead somewhere useful. Like, say, your sales page. Contact form. Or a hyper-popular blog post that you want to highlight.

8. Half of your blog posts start with something along the lines of, “Gosh, I haven’t posted in so long! Sorry, sorry…self-flagellation, etc.”

I don’t care if you publish a new blog post every ten micro-seconds, every week, or once a month. You don’t have to be a content factory — but nobody wants to hear you whining about missing your self-imposed (and vaguely irrational) internal deadlines. Some of my favorite bloggers post once a month, or less. But when they do, it’s mind-blowing quality, from tops to tails.

9. You haven’t updated your “Upcoming Events” page since last March.

If you only do workshops or speaking gigs (online or off) once in a very blue moon…does your navigation bar really warrant a separate “Events” page? (Mine doesn’t.) Maybe promoting your on-stage gigs in your blog is sufficient. Or plopping a lil’ “See Me LIVE. Here me RAWR!” calendar run-down widget in your sidebar.

10. You write your webcopy in the third person. Or worse…the Royal We.

You’re a solopreneur. A one-woman (or gentleman) show. You’re running your own game. You know it. WE know it. So what’s with the arm-at-a-distance third person jargon? And the “we can’t wait to serve you!” nonsense? If you’ve got a biz partner, a split personality disorder, or happen to be her Majesty the Queen of England, well, fine then. “We” it is. But if not…get Ayn Randian and embrace the heroic powah of “I”!

 

Revamp. Retool. Reveal the best possible version of you.

 


 

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Star-gazing? Or navel-gazing? Chill out — it’s just for a day.

 

Prologue

Boyfriend-person :: “Whatchu writing about?”

Me-person :: “Remember back in the early days of blogging, when it was totally acceptable to post 25 THINGS YOU NEVER KNEW ABOUT MEEEE-esque posts? Like, totally navel-gazing and pointless? No lesson, or call-to-action, or social benefit? I kinda miss those days.”

BF-P :: “You could join Facebook, and be narcissistic and boring every day. And be perfectly accepted.”

ME :: “Burn! Or…I could start an International Self-Absorbtion Rally, where everybody on the Interwebz gets to gaze deep into their navel and write introspective drivel, but just for a day.”

BF-P :: “I’m pretty sure everyone’s already doing that…on Facebook.”

ME :: “This is like, totally different. Trust.”

 

22 surprising (or perhaps mildly intriguing) facts about me:

:: I have a fake tooth, due to a genetic anomaly. It is destined to fall out in the next 3 – 5 years, and I’ll be Gappy McGee till I get a replacement.

:: I grew up in Los Angeles, and lived in four different SoCal ‘hoods from age zero to 20 :: Santa Monica (toxic beaches), Topanga Canyon (trippy hippies), Eagle Rock (damn fine pizza) & West Hollywood (GAYS! GAYS! GAYS!).

:: At 14, I wanted to be a ballerina — a shattered ankle and severe eating disorder swept that dream away. (For which I am very grateful.)

:: At 17, I wanted to be a journalist. My theater teacher told me that “journalism is a dying profession.” You could argue that she was right…

:: At 18, I wanted to be a massage therapist. I completed about half of a training program, and then realized — to my horror — that not all of my clients would be clean-shaven, pleasantly-scented specimens of human perfection (like in the massage school brochure). There would be coarse hair. There would be bacne. (I bolted.)

:: At one point in my life, I could provide the title + a detailed synopsis of every single episode of The X Files. Excluding season 9. Which wasn’t even a season, since Mulder was gone. Honestly.

:: I’ve made two major geographic moves in my life – both to locations where I (a) didn’t know a living soul and (b) had no job, professional connections or support network. The first was New Zealand. The second was Minnesota.

:: My nickname was “Ali” till I moved to New Zealand in 2005. Then, folks started calling me “Alex.” It stuck. Today, I prefer “ALX.” All caps. No E. More efficient.

:: I’ve never felt particularly attached to the name “Alexandra,” to begin with (no offense, mom ‘n dad.) If I could’ve named myself, I’d have chosen “Hazel,” “Wellesley,” “Sapphire,” “Maddox” or “Wish.”

:: The first time I met public radio personality Garrison Keillor, I was so nervous my knees were buckling. I gave him a copy of a rare Raymond Chandler novel, and stammered out something like “I like you lots wow wow hi.”

:: I once bought a ticket to Burning Man, and gave it away to a random woman who wrote me an email about penguins. I like penguins. And I don’t like sandstorms.

:: The best compliment I’ve ever received? “You look just like Elton John. Are you…a man?” (I was in costume, but still. Legendary praise.)

:: I have private conversations with Oscar Wilde. He’s sort of my patron saint of…everything.

:: I do not have any tattoos or piercings (except for my ears). When I do commit to a set of tattoos, they’re going to be exclusively geometry and text-based.

:: My parents didn’t allow me to play video games when I was a kidlet. And if I wanted to watch more than one TV episode per day, I had to justify the program’s educational merit in a short-form essay.

:: Now that I’m a grown-up, I joyfully gorge myself on television programming of questionable merit — like Transylvania Television (TVTV), a self-proclaimed “retro monster comedy series that’s really not for kids.” Being a grown-up RULES!

:: I am child-free by choice, and cat-free by necessity (allergies, man, allergies). I desperately want a magical dachshund that will never soil my abode, and also speaks English. For those lonely winter nights.

:: My eyes are gray-green. I used to wear bright green contacts, because I thought it looked “striking.”

(I got over it.)

:: I am the worst trivia player you will ever meet. My mind becomes a pure tabula rasa, at the start of each round. Once, I forget the name of the U.S. national anthem, and timidly offered, “God Save the…America?”

:: I loathe “gummy” and “sour” candies with a slow-seething rage. But give me a box of frozen Junior Mints, and we’re jim dandy.

:: I was engaged once, to a very beautiful woman with bright purple hair who loved Salman Rushdie, Twin Peaks and her little pet mouse. That was the most agonizing breakup of my life. I still have the ring.

:: I fall asleep almost every night listening to ambient electronica mixed with archived NASA space shuttle updates. This explains…nothing. And everything.

 

Where’s your gaze pointed?

If you’re a world-saving, vision-driven, full-throttle-crusader kinda human who never stops striving for the Next Great Solution, give yourself the gentle gift of navel-gazing. If only for a day. You might recall something…fascinating. Or better still, you might burn all that self-absorption right outta your circulatory system, to clear space for higher levels of service.

Or maybe it’s just fun, and that’s enough.
 


 

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