Digital Marketing for Creatives

(The sound of a single, slightly out-of-tune guitar note plucked, held, then fading into a grumble. Chair creaks. Coffee mug slams down, not in anger, but in punctuation.)

So.

You made a thing.

You painted it, wrote it, recorded it, sculpted it, coded it, podcasted it. It’s done. It’s the best thing you’ve ever made. It contains a piece of your soul, which you have now sanded and varnished and put on the internet’s porch like a strange, digital foundling.

And… nothing happens.

Crickets. The vast, indifferent hum of the server farms. Maybe a ‘like’ from your mom. A comment from a spam bot that says “Great content! We offer SEO services!” It’s enough to make you want to take your piece of soul, that thing you bled for, and shove it in a drawer. To decide that the world is stupid, the algorithms are rigged, and true art is never appreciated in its time. To conclude that you are, in fact, a ghost, screaming into a void that not only doesn’t hear you but is actively selling ad space on the walls of the void.

I know that feeling. I have LIVED in that feeling. I have built a house there, with a pool and a sad little gym. For years. Typing my weird, neurotic, specific thoughts into a WordPress account, convinced that the only audience was me, the future archaeologist who would find the posts and go, “Huh. This guy was unwell.”

But here’s the thing I learned, the hard, awkward, grindingly slow way: The void isn’t empty.

It’s not a void. It’s the world’s biggest, noisiest, most chaotic cocktail party. And standing in the corner, yelling your manifesto about the ontological despair of laundry folding? That’s not how you find your people. Your people are at that party. They’re the ones in the other corner, or by the snack table, feeling just as lost, wishing someone would talk about the specific, weird thing they care about. Your job isn’t to yell louder than the party. Your job is to find your corner. Your table. Your little knot of people who get it.

Finding your audience isn’t selling out. It’s not a dirty algorithm game. It’s connection. It’s the reason we make things in the first place, to go, “Is anyone else out there? Does this thing in my head resonate with anything in yours?” Finding your audience is getting a “Me too!” back. It’s the difference between being a ghost and being a host.

So, how do you do it? How do you crawl out of the house of despair and find your people at the world’s noisiest party? Buckle up. This isn’t a five-point listicle. This is a grimy, philosophical, practical guide from someone who took the scenic route.

PART 1: THE MINDSET SHIFT (Or, Getting Your Head Out of Your Own Void)

Before you touch a single social media platform, you gotta fix the internal software. Otherwise, you’ll self-sabotage every time.

1. Abandon the “Everyone” Fantasy.
Your work is not for everyone. My writing is not for everyone. The death metal polka album you’re composing is not for everyone. “Everyone” is a paralyzing myth. The moment you try to make something for “everyone,” you sand off all the interesting, spiky, specific edges—the very things that will hook someone. Your goal is not a massive, lukewarm blob of approval. Your goal is a small, fervent tribe of people who think your weird niche is the center of the universe. A hundred people who need your work is infinitely more powerful than ten thousand who are mildly aware of it.

2. Get Specific About Who You’re Talking To.
Not demographics. Psychographics. Don’t think “women 25-40.” Think: Who is tired of the same fantasy tropes? Who finds beauty in rusted machinery? Who laughs at the absurdity of corporate jargon? Who feels nostalgia for a time they never lived in? Imagine one person. Give them a name. “My work is for Brenda, who reads vintage sci-fi paperbacks for the smell, thinks modern life is too sleek, and wishes there was a podcast about the history of concrete.” The more specific your imaginary Brenda, the clearer your voice becomes. You’re not broadcasting; you’re talking to Brenda.

3. Embrace the “So What?”
You’re an artist. Great. So what? You write novels. So what? Your audience doesn’t care about your job title. They care about what you do for them. What’s the benefit? Do you help them escape? Make them feel seen? Challenge their thinking? Make their commute bearable? Give them a sense of wonder? Your art is a product of your need to create, but for your audience, it’s a service. Frame it that way. Not “Here’s my painting,” but “Here’s a moment of quiet,” or “Here’s a burst of chaotic color for your dull Tuesday.”

PART 2: THE PRACTICAL, GRITTY, UN-SEXY TACTICS (Where The Rubber Meets The Road)

Okay, head on straight? Now let’s get dirty. This is the work. It’s not magic. It’s showing up.

1. Follow the Trail of Crumbs (AKA: Be a Detective, Not a Megaphone).
Your future audience is already online, talking about things adjacent to your work. Your job is to find them.

• For Authors: Don’t just shout “Buy my book!” Go to Goodreads. Find the 1-star and 5-star reviews of books that are similar to yours. Read the comments. What did people LOVE? What did they HATE? Now you know what to talk about. Join niche subreddits like r/printSF or r/fantasy. Listen for weeks before you post. Then, contribute. Answer questions. Recommend other books (not yours!). Become a valuable member of the community. Then, when it’s natural, mention your work fits that vibe.
• For Visual Artists: Instagram and TikTok are visual, but don’t just post. Search hashtags that are specific to your medium and subject. #linocutwildlife, #digitalportraiture, #ceramicgoblins. Follow those hashtags. Engage with the artists you admire and the people commenting on their work. Leave genuine comments. “The texture in this fur is incredible!” not “Check out my page!” Go to Pinterest. Search for mood boards related to your aesthetic. Who’s saving those images? That’s your audience.
• For Podcasters/Musicians: Find the subreddits and forums for your genre. r/audiodrama, r/indiefolk, r/synthwave. Who’s asking for recommendations? Be there. Answer thoughtfully. Go to playlists on Spotify that feature similar artists. Who made the playlist? Could you reach out (politely)? Who follows it?

2. Choose Your Battlefield (The Platform Dilemma).
You don’t need to be everywhere. You need to be where your Brenda is.

• Is your work highly visual, beautiful, or process-driven? Instagram, TikTok, YouTube Shorts are your home. Focus on one.
• Is your work about ideas, debate, current events, or text-based wit? Twitter (or its successors) might be your jam, but it’s a firehose. Proceed with caution.
• Is your work about community, deep dives, or niche topics? A newsletter (like Substack) or a Discord server (as we talked about) is your fortress. Use social media to drive people to your fortress.
• Does your work involve long-form explanation or amazing visuals? YouTube is a mountain to climb, but it builds a powerful, loyal audience.

Pick one primary platform. Master it. Be consistent there. “Consistent” doesn’t mean posting three times a day until you burn out. It means a reliable rhythm. Maybe it’s one deep-dive Instagram post every Tuesday and Thursday, and a story every weekday. Find a pace you can sustain for years.

3. Content is King, but Context is the Kingdom.
What do you post? The key is the Context vs. Content ratio. Your finished piece (the painting, the book, the song) is your Content. It’s the cathedral. But people also want to see the Context: the scaffolding, the stained-glass sketches, the weird dream that inspired the spire.

• The 80/20 Rule (Loose Guideline): Let 80% of your posts be Context, Value, and Connection. 20% can be “Here’s my thing to buy.”
• Context/Value Posts Look Like:
  • The Struggle: “Spent 4 hours on this character’s eyes. Still not right. Anyone else ever want to throw their sketchbook out the window?” (Vulnerability connects.)
  • The Process: A 15-second timelapse of you painting a section. A photo of your chaotic desk with research books. A screenshot of your writing app with a particularly good sentence highlighted.
  • The Inspiration: “The three movies that influenced this chapter.” “A walk in the foggy woods that inspired this palette.”
  • The Knowledge Share: “Here’s my cheap lighting setup for taking photos of my sculptures.” “A quick tip for getting unstuck in a second draft.” (Give your expertise away for free. It builds trust.)
  • The Conversation Starter: Ask questions! “What’s a book you wish existed?” “What color evokes ‘loneliness’ to you?”

4. The Magic Words: “Link in Bio” and “Subscribe”
Social media platforms are rented land. They can change the rules, go bankrupt, disappear. Your goal is to drive traffic to land you own.

• Your website is your homestead. Even if it’s just a simple Carrd page with your bio, your work, and a way to contact you.
• Your email list is your most valuable asset. It’s a direct line to your audience that no algorithm can shut down. Offer something to get people to sign up. A free short story, a desktop wallpaper of your art, a secret demo track. Use Mailchimp or ConvertKit. Then, write to them like you’re writing to a friend. Tell them what you’re working on, share interesting things you’ve found. This is your core tribe.

5. Collaboration is Force Multiplication.
You are not competing with the other creators in your niche. You are potential allies. Your audience will overlap.

• Find creators whose work you genuinely admire and who are at a similar “size” to you.
• Propose a collaboration. An art trade. A guest blog post swap. A joint Instagram Live where you interview each other. A playlist featuring each other’s music.
• This exposes you to their audience, who are pre-qualified to like what you do. It’s the single fastest way to grow.

6. Embrace the Slow Burn.
This is the hardest part. This is not a viral hit strategy. This is a marathon of micro-connections. You will post for months and feel like you’re talking to yourself. You are. You’re building a body of work. You’re proving you’re not a ghost. The algorithm (and more importantly, real people) start to trust you. One day, you’ll get a comment from someone you don’t know, saying something insightful. That’s the moment. That’s your first real “Me too!” outside your immediate circle. Cherish it. Reply to it. That person is now a citizen of your tiny, growing nation.

(A deep breath. The sound of coffee being poured, this time more gently.)

Look.

Finding your audience is essentially this: Be so unapologetically, specifically yourself that you become a beacon for the other people who share that specific frequency.

Stop trying to be seen by the whole world. Start trying to be found by your people. It’s quieter. It’s slower. It’s less about flash and more about resonance.

It means on some days, you’re not the artist, you’re the community manager, the copywriter, the strategist. That’s okay. It’s all part of the craft of sharing your craft.

It’s frustrating, bewildering, and often deeply uncool. But the alternative, making your thing and leaving it in the drawer, letting that piece of your soul gather real dust, is a far quieter, more permanent kind of despair.

So go on. Be a detective for your own future fans. Build your corner of the party, one brick of context, one moment of genuine connection at a time. Your people are out there, feeling just as weird and specific as you are. They’re waiting for a sign that they’re not alone.

Go be that sign.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check if Brenda liked my last post about the history of concrete. It’s a real nail-biter.

(Mic click. The faint, comforting hiss of silence.)

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If you found this useful, then you might be interested in my book “Digital Marketing for Creatives” – it’s over on Amazon and it’s aim is to get creatives marketing effectively so they can spend more time making that creative thing they make and not losing hours doing marketing. You can find it here .

You can also subscribe to this blog and get notified everytime I post. Zero spam, guaranteed.