My Reply to Sandra

Well, Sandra.

You got me thinking today.

I've got this book out now called THIS IS ME.

I posted a little video about it. Nothing fancy. Just letting folks know it's there if they want to read it.

And Sandra left this comment:

"Going to pass on this whole trip of 'THE COMMERCIALIZATION OF JOE DURST'. I been waiting for your site to have some depth....a more than a 'One way conversation' and especially a slight glimpse of that ...you actually have any Interest in your 'Followers'..'Readers' etc. I suppose if one is going to Market themself....they should certainly pay heed to those that ...Purchase."

Well alright then.

I read it once.

Then I read it again.

And I'll give you this, Sandra.

You got me thinking.

I ain't mad you said it.

If I'm gonna put myself out there for thousands of people to look at, I better have thick enough skin to hear from somebody who doesn't particularly like what I'm doing.

I can handle that.

If you think I'm screwing something up, you're welcome to tell me.

But I'm allowed to disagree too.

And on this one, I do.

Let's start with the book.

The funny part is the book you're commenting under exists because of y'all.

I didn't wake up one morning and think,

"How can I squeeze ten dollars out of these people today?"

A while back I put up a post and told y'all to ask me anything.

That might've been a mistake.

Because apparently y'all had some questions.

A LOT of questions.

Some were serious.

Some were funny.

Some were personal.

Some were real damn personal.

And some made me wonder what exactly y'all thought I was doing over here.

But I asked.

So I started answering.

Eventually I thought maybe instead of throwing a couple sentences underneath a Facebook comment, I'd sit down and actually answer the damn questions.

Really answer them.

So that's what I did.

For about a week, I'd get through my day, sit my ass down in the evening and write for about four hours.

Night after night.

By the time I was done, I'd put somewhere around 20 hours into that book.

Twenty hours.

That's half a workweek for most people.

And I didn't spend those 20 hours writing something I thought y'all ought to hear.

I spent them answering things you asked me.

That's how THIS IS ME happened.

It ended up being 77 pages.

And I put a price of $9.99 on it.

Apparently that's where the commercialization came in.

Here's the strange part.

The people who've actually read the thing have been pretty damn kind about it.

One fellow told me he was so excited to read it that instead of cooking dinner, he ate leftovers again because he wanted to keep reading.

That made me laugh.

Somebody else asked if I was gonna make a physical copy.

Another person jumped in and said they liked that idea too.

Then I got this message:

"Howdy Joe,

I just pulled up a chair and grabbed a cold brew while I enjoyed every word of your book.

Very well written and entertaining."

Now that's about the highest compliment I could ask for.

Somebody pulled up a chair, grabbed a beer and read the thing.

Sounds about right to me.

So I don't regret writing it.

And I don't regret charging $9.99 for it either.

Because here's something I believe.

Time has value.

Work has value.

Mine does too.

I run a construction business.

If you ask me to build you a deck, I'm gonna charge you.

Nobody expects me to show up Monday morning, work until Friday afternoon and then say,

"Don't worry about it. I just appreciate you letting me build it."

That'd be a hell of a business model.

Sometimes I think the internet creates this strange idea that if somebody follows you, everything you create with your time ought to be free.

I don't believe that.

I spent 20 hours creating something.

Twenty hours of my life.

I wouldn't ask a plumber to give me 20 hours for nothing.

I wouldn't ask a mechanic to give me 20 hours for nothing.

I wouldn't ask anybody reading this to work half a week for me and expect nothing in return.

So I don't think there's anything wrong with putting a $9.99 price on something I spent 20 hours creating.

And hell, Sandra, the offer works both ways.

If you wanna come haul lumber around with me for about 20 hours this week so we can feel a little more connected, get in touch.

I could use the help.

I can't pay you, of course.

Apparently we're giving our 20 hours away for free now.

I'll even buy lunch.

I'm commercialized, not unreasonable.

And here's the other half of that deal.

You ain't obligated to buy the book either.

That's the beauty of it.

I can make something and put a price on it.

You can look at it and say, "Nah Joe. I'll keep my ten bucks."

And somehow both of us can go on living.

You don't have to buy anything to belong here.

I want to make that real clear.

If my whole purpose here was getting money out of everybody who follows me, I'd have a pretty easy system.

I'd keep track.

Bought the book?

Stay.

Bought a shirt?

Stay.

Bought something else?

Stay.

Haven't bought shit?

DELETE.

Hell, I'd probably wipe out most of my Facebook following by supper.

But I don't do that.

Because that's never been the point.

Never was.

Never will be.

I don't look at the people following me and see a few thousand wallets.

I don't expect everybody who follows me to become a customer.

Some of y'all have bought things from me.

Some of you have bought several things.

Some of you haven't spent one red cent.

And I couldn't tell you which is which most of the time.

If all you ever do is show up, read something I wrote, laugh at something stupid I did, disagree with me, leave a comment every now and then and move on with your day, you're welcome here.

You don't have to pay admission to hang around Joe Durst.

Now let's talk about this "depth" thing.

This is probably the part of that comment I understand the least.

Because my website ain't even a month old.

Hell, this whole internet thing that's happening to me ain't much older than that.

At the beginning, most people knew me from pictures.

There's Joe building something.

There's Joe drinking coffee.

There's Joe without a shirt.

There's Joe without his damn pants.

Alright.

Fair enough.

There wasn't exactly a biography attached.

But since then I've been writing.

A lot.

There's a whole blog over there now.

And it doesn't cost you anything.

I've written about getting older.

Being single.

Raising Tucker.

Construction.

Sex.

Jerking off.

People I've loved.

People I've lost.

Things I've screwed up.

Things I've learned.

Things I believe.

Things I don't understand.

And whatever stupid shit happens to me when I go to Walmart.

I've told stories I probably could've kept to myself.

I've written about things that actually matter to me.

Then I sat down and wrote a book.

And in that book, I went places I hadn't gone on Facebook.

I even told readers a little bit about growing up in foster care.

That's not something I threw in there because I thought it'd sell another copy.

That's part of my life.

It's part of how I became the man I am.

And I decided if I was gonna call a book THIS IS ME, then I couldn't just give you the funny parts and the sexy parts and the parts that are easy to talk about.

I had to give you some of the other stuff too.

So when somebody says they've been waiting for more "depth," I gotta admit...

I don't know what their definition of depth is.

Because I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to give you before it counts.

I've told y'all about my life.

I've told you what I think.

I've told you about people I've loved and lost.

I've talked about raising my son.

I've talked about sex.

I've talked about getting older.

I've talked about growing up in foster care.

I've written about things that make me laugh and things that hurt.

And I've done most of that for free.

Hell, sometimes I probably tell y'all more than I should.

So if that ain't depth, I reckon we're just using two different dictionaries.

Because I'm not entirely sure what else I'm supposed to take off.

I've already taken off my pants.

And then there's this "one-way conversation" thing.

This one got me thinking too.

Because there's actually a place on my website where you can ask me a question.

Literally.

Ask Joe a question.

You ask.

I answer.

Now I'll admit something.

I'm behind.

I've got questions sitting there right now that I still need to answer.

I'll get to them.

But I think the fact that I'm behind kinda proves another point.

People are asking.

I'm listening.

And I'm answering as many as I can.

I've asked for your opinions on things I'm working on.

I've asked what you think about clothes.

I've asked questions on Facebook.

I've told y'all to ask me anything.

I've answered questions publicly.

Then I spent 20 hours answering a whole bunch more of them in a book.

So before deciding this website is just me talking at people and trying to sell them shit, I think it's fair to ask:

Have you actually looked around the whole site?

Because there's a hell of a lot more there than a store.

There's a free blog.

There are stories.

There are opinions.

There's a place to ask me questions.

There are ways to tell me what you think.

And yeah.

There are things for sale too.

All of those things can exist in the same place.

A website having a checkout button doesn't automatically turn everything around it into a sales pitch.

But here's the reality nobody can change.

There's one Joe.

There's a whole lot of y'all.

That's just the math.

I run a full-time construction business.

I'm raising a teenage boy.

I gotta buy groceries.

Do laundry.

Pay bills.

Cook dinner.

Go to work.

And occasionally I'd like to sit my ass down and do absolutely nothing like every other human being.

Then somehow this internet thing happened.

Now there's Facebook.

Instagram.

Threads.

Twitter.

TikTok.

Tumblr.

The website.

The blog.

Comments.

Messages.

Emails.

Questions.

And thousands of people scattered across all of it.

I read a hell of a lot more than I answer.

Sometimes I'll read something and think I'll come back to it.

Then three days later I remember it while I'm standing in the shower.

That's my life right now.

I wish I could pull up a chair and shoot the shit with every one of you.

I really do.

Truth is, I can't.

There's one of me and a whole lot of y'all, and somewhere in there I've still gotta be Tucker's dad and earn a living.

That's not me being rude.

That's not me getting too big for my britches.

It's just reality.

Appreciation and availability ain't the same thing.

I've said plenty of times how much I appreciate the people who showed up here.

I meant it every time.

I've written whole posts about it.

I've talked about it.

Hell, I wrote about y'all more than once in the book.

None of this would've happened without people deciding, for whatever reason, that they wanted to stick around and see what this dumbass contractor was gonna say next.

I'm grateful for that.

But appreciating somebody and being constantly available to them are two different things.

Sometimes I'll answer you.

Sometimes I won't.

Sometimes I'll see your comment.

Sometimes it'll get buried underneath a hundred others before I ever know it was there.

Sometimes I'll answer a question tonight.

Sometimes it'll take me a week.

That's not because I suddenly stopped giving a damn.

It's because I'm one guy trying to figure out a situation I never expected to be in.

Now back to this commercialization business.

Am I making money?

Yep.

I'm not gonna insult your intelligence and pretend otherwise.

I sell things.

I'm gonna keep selling things.

I'll probably make more clothes.

I'll probably write another book.

If I find something I genuinely like and somebody wants to pay me a commission for telling you about it, I'll probably do that too.

I'm trying to build something.

I ain't ashamed of that.

But here's what I'm not doing.

I'm not turning Joe Durst into something you have to pay for.

You wanna read the blog?

Read it.

You wanna follow along on Facebook?

Follow.

You wanna laugh at me on Instagram?

Have at it.

You wanna disagree with something I wrote?

Hell, apparently that's free too.

You can hang around this whole crazy thing for as long as you want and never spend a nickel.

I ain't checking receipts at the door.

But every once in a while I might create something that takes real work.

Twenty hours.

Forty hours.

Who knows.

And when I do, I might put a price on it.

You don't owe me your money.

If you don't want it, don't buy it.

And when I spend my time making something extra, I don't think there's anything wrong with putting a price on it.

Seems pretty fair to me.

So here's where I land on all this.

Criticize me.

Seriously.

If you think I'm full of shit, tell me.

If you think I screwed something up, tell me.

If you don't like something I'm doing, you're allowed to say it.

I put myself out here.

That's part of the deal.

And I ain't gonna start deleting people just because they disagree with me.

But I'm allowed to answer too.

This website isn't even a month old.

This whole thing isn't even a month old.

I'm figuring out what Joe Durst on the internet looks like while thousands of people are watching me figure it out.

That's a weird damn experience.

Some things will work.

Some won't.

I'll probably change my mind about things.

I'll probably screw some things up.

But one thing I ain't gonna apologize for is working.

And I ain't gonna apologize for getting paid sometimes when I do.

You don't have to buy anything from me to belong here.

I think that's worth saying again.

You don't have to buy the book.

You don't have to buy a shirt.

You don't have to buy a damn thing.

Just showing up is enough.

But if I spend 20 hours making something and decide it's worth $9.99, I'm gonna put $9.99 on it.

And I can still appreciate the hell out of you whether you buy it or not.

Those two things can exist at the same time.

And if that means I've been commercialized...

Well hell.

Somebody better tell my construction customers I've been commercialized for years.

— Joe