In the age of billionaires
riding rocket dicks to the edge of space what hope is there for us mere mortals
on the ground to realise our own humble dreams?
Whatever way you cut it crowdfunding is a fool’s game and I’m nothing but a sucker for punishment. I failed
three times in a row to raise any budget for my 1st film Vinton’s
Lot (2019). We didn’t even raise the minimum amount required to withdraw funds
from a keep what you raise format.
Those three campaigns were
a waste of time we didn’t have. The production was being starved of resources
in a calculated effort to co-opt creative control of the project. At one point
it was even suggested that I use my autism in crowdfunding pitch, but I refused
because the idea felt like inspiration porn.
Inspiration porn is a phrase
coined by late comedian and disability activist Stella Young “Inspiration porn is the portrayal of people with
disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their
disability”.
Now that
I’m leading a fourth crowdfunding attempt for a new project and feel like I’ve
pretty much exhausted all my options I find myself wondering if even
inspiration porn would make a difference, but I doubt it.
I got
incredibly lucky with 1st film. The cast and crew were committed to
seeing it through to the end. We pressed on and made an awesome film literally against
all odds.
I naively
thought that having a completed project under my belt as well as having a
masters’ degree would make crowdfunding a little easier. But I was gravely
mistaken to say the least.
Despite
investing hundreds to create a proof of concept the campaign has plateaued at
3%. The problem is the same as it always is, hardly any web traffic.
In my master’s
dissertation I argued that crowdfunding was less a means of funding a project then
it was a marketing tool and platform of direct sales. I analysed successful and
unsuccessful campaigns as case studies.
This
process enabled me to determine the importance of nuanced incentives. One of my
favourite examples was a campaign for a horror comic whereby the creator was
offering that backers names would be printed then burnt and the ashes used to
make the ink used to illustrate the book.
Crowdfunding
is an evolving format, one which has changed since I wrote my masters dissertation.
Primarily the addition of add-ons and stretch goals. These elements in many
ways further prove my point that crowdfunding is now a marketplace for direct
sales.
That
being said, it doesn’t matter what you’re selling, it doesn’t even matter that
you’ve got the ability to actually fulfil orders (I’ve backed campaigns and received
nothing) all that matters is footfall and page engagement.
The funny
thing is that I turned down a legitimate offer from a publishing company because
unbeknownst to me it had become industry standard for publishers not to front
cash for illustrators’ page rates.
Meaning
even if I took the publishers offer, I still would have had to crowdfund for page
rates to finish the book and the publishers would have fulfilled orders for
campaign. The only difference with me doing it without a publishing deal is
that I could produce books locally, significantly reducing carbon footprint and
am able to sell hardcopies for £12 as apposed to £20 via publisher.
Only now I’ve got no exposure ergo no momentum.
Despite all I’ve endured and somehow accomplish along the way I can’t help but
feel like the perpetual underdog in this crowdfunding fight.
Nothing I
do or have done ever seems to make a difference. So why keep trying like Sisyphus
eternally pushing that crowdfunding boulder up a steep hill every day, only for
it to roll back down and start all over again.
Because
even Sisyphus must hold on to a hope that one day something will make a
difference, that one day things will change. We don’t struggle to succeed; we
struggle to survive, and we can’t survive without hope.
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