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. With Murakami on writing, business, and the one-in-ten rule
There was a great Haruki Murakami essay in The New Yorker a few weeks ago, but it’s not online, so it’s taken me until now to find the time to type up the passage I liked the best.
Basically Murakami writes about how for a while he owned a jazz club, then at about age 29 decided out of the blue to write a novel. When he transitioned to the writing life full-time, it meant he had to lose some friends because of the way his lifestyle changed.
But at that point, I felt that the indispensable relationship I should build in my life was not with a specific person but with an unspecified number of readers. My readers would welcome whatever life style I chose, as long as I made sure that each new work was an improvement over the last. And shouldn’t that be my duty — and my top priority — as a novelist?
I liked that a lot. And I have a feeling you could just substitute the word “customers” or “clients” for “readers” and this passage work for all kinds of people.
But I thought this, which followed soon after, was even better:
Even when I ran the club, I understood [that you can’t please everybody]. A lot of customers came to the club. If one out of ten enjoyed the place and decided to come again, that was enough. If one out of ten was a repeat customer, then the business would survive. To put it another way, it didn’t matter if nine out of ten people didn’t like the club.
Realizing this lifted a weight of my shoulders. Still, I had to make sure the one person who did like the place really liked it. In order to do that, I had make my philosophy absolutely clear, and patiently maintain that philosophy no matter what. This is what I learned from running a business.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot. The tricky party is the “really liked it” part.
Writing, of course, is a business. (At least for someone like me; maybe it’s differnt for a novelist.) It’s more of a business than it was when I started, actually. And it will get more that way in the future.
Like everybody else, I’m thinking about how I’ll ultimately survive in my business, which happens to be writing.
Am I doing what Murakami suggests needs to be done? I’m not always sure I am.
It’s a question that probably applies in every business.
It’s something to think about.
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Reader Comments
I read this essay last week, good stuff, and it inspired me to buy a pair of cross trainers that have yet to be used for their specified purpose.
Murakami is great for writing advice because the language he uses is so stripped down and unpretentious – without a hint of ego or self-satisfaction. I especially likes how he describes his own work – he often ends up sounding more like an architect or an engineer than a best-selling author.
i read the piece in the new yorker too and was struck by the same passages, esp. the one in ten part. i own two business, one of which is a 70 year old bricks and mortar family biz selling kitchenware (http://kitchenarts.biz). the complexity now is trying to take an offline experience people love (and i know 1 in 10 love the store) and translating it online. because the experience is fundamentally different…murakami’s place was a jazz club, an experience impossible to reproduce online. is retail different? i guess it depends on how much customers like appreciate a store for the goods it sells (always available for less on amazon) or for the vibe/environment…how much will people pay for environment?
anyway, i think you’ll do ok rob, ‘cuz your writing on the subject of marketing is always fresh, and without an axe to grind. such a relief after all the dumb mktg books written by consultants and media execs. interesting that i got a copy of your book at the last word-of-mouth mktg ass’n conference, where it was given to all attendees in a swag bag.
hey! what technology do i need to access the info contained in that scan-able code on the back flap of your book? take a picture and send it somewhere??
I got lucky with getting that copy of The New Yorker – sort of – I was looking to buy it in equal measure for the contents and the cover (great cover, no?) – but the bookstore was out. An independent store, they had the cover tacked to the bulletin board. I left, and made it about 200 feet when there was a tap on my shoulder – one of the employees had found the issue that they’d taken the cover from, and he gave it to me. So I got the free magazine, but sadly no cover.
At any rate: I enjoyed the Murakami essay as well. He’s a favorite of mine, and I’m pleased as punch to be sitting next to an ARC of the new book.
the one in ten is critical – if you focus too much time on customers who aren’t coming back you neglect the ones who might – if you weren’t neglecting them. Lose-lose. This is true in every big business whether airlines giving out miles in affinity programs to best buy actively looking to discourage shoppers who buy infrequently and make a lot of returns.
From a marketing perspective this is about courting brand advocates (at the expense of others). You can’t have a relationship with the masses. But you can have one with your most enthusiastic fans, who in turn help you find and make new fans.
Until I was 29, I desperately clung to the notion that writing was somehow above the sordid money-grubbing marketplace. Since moving past that particular hang up, I’ve done much better as a writer.
These are all great comments, thanks much.
Three quick responses here:
Dave, one thing I’m curious about is where the ilne is between focusing on the “repeat customer,” and flat-out pandering? (Possibly not relevant in some businesses, but very relevant in the writing business, I think.)
David, I agree with much of what you’re saying, but I think there’s a middle ground between “regular reader,” or even “fan,” and “advocate” (or “evangelist,” if you go for that sort of thing).
Owen: That’s a QR Code. And more to the point — why didn’t you come to the Boston party?