Where The People Are

Image by Tiago Aguiar

I have a dirty driveway.

I know, that’s a weird way to begin this post, but apparently, it’s true.

Recently, someone came to my door sharing about their new business venture, and hoping I’d become one of their clients. They pointed out that I had a problem they could solve by letting me know they’d noticed my driveway was dirty. While I’m all for entrepreneurship and think it’s awesome that a teen with a power washer decided to start their own business, I politely declined. They were dogged in their attempts to win my business though, employing all the tactics taught by marketing gurus.

The exchange got me thinking about a few things. Namely, that it hadn’t occurred to me care that my driveway was dirty. I can honestly say, my driveway isn’t high on the list of things I give my time, energy and focus to. It’s not a priority for me in any way – even after being informed by a well-meaning entrepreneur that it’s “dirty.”

Of course, it is.

It lives outside. In the shade of several trees. In my mind, sweeping or blowing the plant debris off is enough. I mean, cars park there, trees drop leaves and flowers and acorns there, squirrels and dogs run on it, people walk on it, ride bikes on it. It’s a well-used section of concrete. And in a world where millions of people live without access to clean water, the thought of using potable water to clean a slab of concrete that’s meant to be dirty seems odd to me. The thought of a dirty driveway seemed odd to the salesteen though…

To the person with the hammer, everything looks like a nail. To the kid with power washer, every driveway is dirty.

People have different priorities, and that’s okay.

After salesteen left, I thought about the exchange and realized I didn’t tell them why I’d said no thank you, I’d only told them it wasn’t for me (which is enough, right? I mean we don’t have to explain our nos, or our yeses for that matter, but that’s another topic). I’d also politely taken their business card in case I changed my mind, and wished them well on their business endeavor. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about how important my driveway had seemed to them. How invested they were in the idea of my driveway’s cleanliness, when I didn’t even care about it (not really). And it got me thinking about the things we care about that others don’t. The things we’re willing to go to bat for, or take a stand for, or get annoyed over – that may hold zero value or meaning to anyone else. And I thought about all the times I tried to push my art on people who didn’t care about it.

Outside of folks at Celtic festivals, St. Patrick’s Day and Burns Night events, I had no idea who my “ideal audience” was when I started out in music. I truly believed my friends and family would stand by my creative side and fill out the venues, only to learn that many of them didn’t give a crap about Celtic music, they just liked me. Some of them still came to a few of my shows though… and checked their phones.

My music isn’t for everyone (and neither is my writing). While I may play World, Folk, and Americana festivals as a Celtic singer, there’s no way I’d be playing a solid Rock or Metal festival and it would be a waste of everyone’s time and energy for me to engage in any sort of sales conversation there. No matter how much I appreciate rock and am happy to lend my voice to various studio projects, my band isn’t a rock band. My audience doesn’t want rock from me, and a metal festival doesn’t need (or want) a Celtic singer.

There’s immense value in knowing we’re not for everyone.

Not everyone gets our art or wants what we have to offer. That doesn’t mean our art or ideas don’t have value. On the contrary, they do! And it’s because our creative work has value that it’s imperative we connect it with people who will appreciate it.

As skillful as salesteen was at explaining their work and how it could solve a problem for me, I was definitely not their audience. Their concern for my driveway and the effort and energy they put into explaining why and how they could help me with it were completely wasted on me. I don’t care that my driveway is dirty. I don’t care what the HOA may say about it (btw – they’ve not said anything). And at the end of the day, until I care about it, salesteen isn’t going to convince me to use their services. I’m not their person, not in their audience. They won’t be having a power washing party in my driveway.

We have to know who are people are.

And yes, I’m totally singing like Ariel as I type – “I want to be where the people are…” (no lie, I think and break into song regularly). We want to be where “our” people are. We want to set our work up for success in the world by presenting it to people who give a care. To people who want that kind of story, or like that type of art. Who are interested in the thing(s) we have to share and excited about having them in their lives.

Finding those people may take some time. But, knowing our own priorities and understanding what we want to say with our art, and who we want to share it with, is crucial and well worth the effort. Here’s to owning our priorities, knowing our audience, and directing our energy accordingly.