One of those great words with at least two very different meanings. Number one: the goal (apparently) of everyone on social media -- create a "brand" for yourself and maximize its value. Number two: the imposition of a mark to indicate (usually) something unhappy -- the scarlet letter itself, or in a more cruel intention, the hot end of a poker with the symbol of a ranch John Wayne seemed so eager to impress upon the back end of a cow. In either case, the "brand" is a thing that defines you, and if you're savvy enough, you know how to create and wield it to your advantage. And for me, un-wieldy is the word, as it relates to my facility at branding. 

E.M. Arons is the author of the series of Lydia Calligan stories-- one hesitates to go all the way and call them "mysteries" as diehard mystery fans may take exception -- and I have been advised to build the brand for my novels. Considering that Lydia herself is a genius at advertising and brand building, you'd think I'd have some facility in that regard. And yet, I'm stymied. It seems, in a way, dishonest to create a "brand" and pass it off to the general public. In some ways I feel that an author should actually be the opposite of a "brand" -- we create stories that we hope people will enjoy and experience personally. The individual who typed the words isn't really a player in the interaction, it ought to be between you, the reader, and the story. At least, that would be my hope. For one reason, I think my characters are much more interesting than I am. Unless someone witty has placed a script in my hand, I'm about as entertaining as a plank. I find writing funny things for me to say almost impossible, and yet, I enjoy writing funny things for my characters to say. 

Have you ever met a favorite, famous person in real life? I've stumbled across a few in Los Angeles, and I'm often startled at how weird they look. In order to look natural on camera, your hair has to have a slightly unrealistic color. They often wear a lot of makeup so you can't tell what they really look like, and eyebrows and other features are often drawn on as if they have to appear telegenic from miles away. I was once driving down Laurel Canyon Boulevard and an action adventure star of the first order appeared to be sitting in a small, open convertible behind me, a Porsche or something. Looking in my rear view mirror, I could clearly see that it was [top-rated movie star ever] because his face was so big and exactly what you'd think he'd look like. Although I realized his head had to be the size of a huge balloon in order for me to see the features so clearly from that far away. So being a brand is a full-time job, and a lot of people want to do it. Just not me. 

So this blog, and the Lydia Calligan novels are, in a way, coming to some understanding of who we are, branded or otherwise. A lot of people who grew up in the 20th century, like me and Lydia, were told we had to have personas and brands, and we did what we were told, and went through life trying to maintain those. But at a certain point, if it isn't you, then the act gets too heavy to carry around, and you have to drop it and figure out who you are and what you're meant to do. I wonder if the current generation of influencers and online stars will have to reckon with this someday. Lydia's facing that right now, and I hope that some of the stories resonate with you as well. I was never as successful as she was, and I didn't have the name recognition she did. I'm not sure the value of name recognition now, nor face recognition (though, uh-oh, AI and the tech bros seem to own all our faces now), so I hope you'll bear with me as I unfurl the Lydia stories and possibly find some reasonable compromise between "branding" and honesty. 

(Credit for blog illustration -- hope they don't sue me. Credit to Sam Gross, which got clipped off the bottom. Well done, sir.)