When it comes to business, Kristen Kalp doesn't clown around.

She is the author behind the outrageously astute BrandCamp Blog and also a photographer based in Philadelphia.

Circus Circus, her new offering in the form of a PDF, tackles the sometimes difficult task of communicating with one's potential business clients. It's more a workshop than an e-book, so come prepared to roll up your sleeves and get some elbow grease.

Circus Circus isn't just a bunch of copy that I've written so you can paste it into your website and hope for the best. That's like buying brownies from the bakery and eating 'em right up – eating brownies doesn't get you any closer to creating brownies.

In the 52-page book, Kalp, takes several irreverent swipes at conventional business writing books by presenting her material in both a concise and witty manner. She is comfortable engaging her audience from the get go. Just take a look at the table of contents:

Now, I don't know of anyone looking at that table of contents who will not want to read right through in one sitting. I did that, knowing full well that there might be parts where I would be asked to stop, write things down and then reflect.

The first challenging part of the book was coming up with a manifesto. To be honest, I am still not done with mine. Kalp says she took nearly five hours to complete her manifesto. What's so important about a manifesto? Well, it “establishes the sound of YOUR voice on your website or in your brochures.” That, in my opinion, is reason enough to keep chipping at it. I promise to share my manifesto when I feel it is ready for public consumption. What helps is Kalp's five-step process to craft that manifesto, each with vivid examples and a worksheet to practice on your own.

The part of Kalp's e-book that I found most fascinating was the “Fire-Breathing Show,” where words are used to convey features and benefits to clients. I know I struggle with this in my own copy, but this guide book shows you how to arrive at these personal and business characteristics, to help sell YOU to your clients.

Kalp also talks about offering your clients incentives (she calls them cotton-candy to stick to the circus metaphor), creating a one-line bio, how to respond to e-mails, crafting an elegant e-mail signature, writing a FAQ email, negotiating price objections and expressing yourself in blog posts.

And you can see that Kalp practices what she preaches. Take a look at her own photography website – Essential Imagery. Just about every part of it is eager to connect with the visitor. “Let's Have An Adventure! What kind?,” is an invitation to join her in something mysterious, yet cool. Her website exudes her down-to-earth, yet fun personality.

If you are a photographer, you can no longer just post great images on your site and expect your potential clients to be able to connect with you. You do have to write and express yourself. If you struggle with the written word, Kristen Kalp's Circus Circus is must-buy. She'll take you step by step (and it isn't in the least bit easy mind you) through the various parts of your site where you may want to tighten up your writing and engage your reader.

It's priced at $149 (and I bought my copy, by the way) so it isn't inexpensive. If you are looking to persuade your clients that you are worth what you charge for your services, then the value this e-book/guidebook/workbook is truly immense. Full disclosure, I get no financial commission for suggesting this book to you. If Kristen reads this review and feels like sharing a special promo code with us, I'll update this post so you can order the book within a specific time frame. Does that sound good to you?

Sound off below if you have already bought Circus Circus. What did you think of it? How far along are you on your manifesto? What portions of it have you already put into play for your business? Start the dialogue here. Let's talk!

Well, Kristen did respond to my request for a special promotional code to be used towards Circus Circus. At check out use “SESHU” and get $50 off. This is good only through April 5, 2011, so bust a move. Your final price will be $99. Nice!

This is a guest post by David Jackson, a Wisconsin-based editorial portrait photographer and an international award winning wedding photographer. In 2007 he left his full-time job of 14 years as a law enforcement officer to pursue a career as a full-time photographer and to maintain his life's priority as a devoted husband and father to three little girls. His passion for education has lead him to develop the Breaking The Rule Portrait Workshop, focused on honing photographers skill sets in creating more compelling portraits. David's fine art photography project entitled SIMPLE+DIRTY, has also gained wide attention through his documentation of abandoned structures and modern industrial ruins across the Midwest. Follow him on Twitter and connect with him on Facebook. And if you like his post here, trust me, you'll love his blog.

Here’s the deal and I’m going to cut right to the chase. This letter is an open and honest gripe specifically directed at you. Why, you ask? Well, we know each other. I view you as my competition, my nemesis and my enemy. I’ve been quietly watching your every move as an artist, a business owner and a person I typically respect. But this whole time I’ve been judging you. I’ve grown increasingly tired of the photo industry and I can see that you have a small integral part of its inherent failure as a whole. You’re just one more number in the growing sea of photographers who think they can make it and at the same time snuff out the veteran shooters. For this reason, I’m going to be blunt and an all-around asshole in what I’m about to say. I rarely take pot shots like this, but I’ve had enough and now’s the time to lay it all out on the table.

To begin with, you irritate me.

By no means does this come from a place of envy, but rather out of genuine frustration. I have seen your work many times before. To be honest, it’s really nothing to brag about. You are the same old thing that I see every other day spewed out on blogs across the web and sold as something fresh and “different.” Just executed in a similar “cheesy” and sometimes over-done way. I have watched the way you shoot. I’ve seen the way you indirectly portray yourself as “awesome” to the Facebook and Twitter masses just chomping at the bit to gain attention by other photographers around you. Not to mention having ambitions of getting hired by potential big-name clients who I’m sure, are knocking down your doors to give you cold hard cash. You’re that new up-and-coming photographer in the industry and you have it all figured out.

Well I have news for you. You’re far from it.

It’s like watching a slow-moving train wreck. You post photos and blog links like it’s going out of style and manage to get such GREAT compliments on the mediocre work you produce. It’s all too predictable:

“Great Photos!”
“WOW”
“You are truly talented.”
“You’re an inspiration!”
“LOVE!”
“Amazing!!!”

Doesn’t the same old recycled essay of comments make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? It might, but all this positive fluff only enables your head to grow larger and you’re your ego to inflate to ridiculous proportions. Not your photography.

Well, let’s dissect your work. From what I’ve seen online, your post-production is all over the place. In the beginning you struggled to take a halfway decent photo. Although you have the basics down, I can tell you prefer taking the easy way out. You love the idea of using Photoshop actions and filters instead of actually editing your photos in a simple, organic way. You love shortcuts. You’re a product of the digital age and rely on your LCD screen to attain a halfway decent exposure. You barely know how to use a light meter. You have attended workshops, bought DVD’s and stalked numerous other photographer’s blogs with hopes to mimic their style. And by doing this you deliver photos that you can hardly call original, yet comfortably fit into the “what’s hot now” category. After all, it’s these trends that are selling at the moment…

Time after time you deliver the same old predictable photos that we’ve all seen before. What you don’t realize is that the things you are doing today to attain your new-found “signature look” will soon be outdated and un-marketable. And the further you back yourself into a corner, the harder it will be to get out of when you become the new “selective-color” of 2013.

Sure, your clients may fall hard for your work and you sometimes ooze fairy dust in a lovefest for yourself. But I don’t think you’re truly happy with any of it. You’re often afraid of other people’s opinions and constructive criticism. Far be it from you to get honest feedback without becoming defensive about your precious photographs or better yet, face an unhappy client. But then again you’ve NEVER had an unhappy client… Right? They ALL love you and your photos.

I can tell by the crappy outdated photos STILL in your portfolio, you are yet to update your extensively mismatched galleries or put any effort in getting your website together in a logical way. Looking at it closer, I see you continually struggle to find your voice. Who knows if you will ever find it? I however, look at your work and know exactly the things I should never do in the future. You call that marketable? Wait, I have a great idea… Delete it all and start over from scratch.

It’s awful. And you’re not even close to finding your true identity as a photographer.

How in the hell do you expect to get actual paid client work with the garbage you’re shooting? Sure there are some good-looking folks in some of your well-lit shots, but does that make your photos exceptional? Does that make you the next best thing? Apparently everybody is the “next best thing” these days. Your work does not speak to me or stop me dead in my tracks.

Early on, you wanted to romanticize the photo industry and the esteemed status of being a photographer. Truth be told, it makes me sick to think about it. You came into the photo world with big naïve eyes, hoping to save the world with your undying love for your clients, your “passion” for making “awesome” photos or your ability to “capture true emotion.” You love being called an artist, but you seemingly fall short most times.

Go to your website. Just read your bio. Listen to yourself! You sound like a pompous assclown. Amidst your redundant words and poor grammar, I know you want to shoot weddings in exotic locations due to your availability to “travel worldwide”. Yet oddly enough, you’re still stuck shooting in some dimly lit catholic church or one of those typical VFW reception halls. Oh, sooooo glamorous. But you never seem to find the motivation or drive to push yourself hard enough to get to where you truly want to be.

Take a hard look at yourself. It’s not difficult to see that you have idolized the status of some, if not all of the “rockstar” photographers who spew their gospel out to the uninformed photographic masses. Yet you yourself seek to glean some magic bullet of success from these folks by buying into the shit they are selling you. Come on. You’re transparent and wear your true colors on your sleeve.

It’s clearly apparent you are a clone of hundreds, if not thousands of other photographers out there. You’ve made all the classic moves; a slick URL incorporating your name, cool clothes, half-assed DIY branding and a web-sized ego to boot. Let me guess? Now you have ambitions of selling your diatribe to other photographers at some point too. Perhaps you have a desire to teach a workshop? Maybe you even want to publish a book or release a DVD someday? You want the recognition and status of rubbing shoulders with those who’ve “made it” in the industry, but you’ve failed to look at the bigger picture. No one cares about you. What the hell makes you so special? You’re a newbie on the scene and that doesn’t give you the right to spew your awesomeness to the hungry. You play it off well, but I can clearly see through you and your need to gain some amount recognition.

But is it about recognition or the need to feel accepted? Probably a mix of both IMHO. (Oh, that abbreviation is cool web-lingo for your social media devotees). You probably stare into your iPhone endlessly waiting for comments to appear on your blog, Facebook page, Flickr or get mentioned on Twitter. Or better yet, you waste half your day on a photography forum expecting it to provide you with some sense of real community but never actually participate in pertinent discussions.

You’ve now made the shotgun decision to move into a studio space because you are in such HIGH demand. WOW! Good for you. I can see the clients stacking up at your door as I write this. They must all think you’re a REAL photographer now, huh? You have a brand new studio, complete with a comfy couch, a flat screen TV and that nausea-inducing hiptser vibe we’ve all come to love lately. What you didn’t see when moving into your space is the stress this will cause on you financially and the toll it will take on your family, your relationship with your spouse and your friends.

And friends? Do you still have any of those? I’m assuming they’re dwindling by the minute. And the ones you use to be tight with, you rarely see.

To others, you make it seem so easy. You make it look like a breeze to live up to your luxurious happy-go-lucky photographer lifestyle. At least that’s what it looks like on the outside. But on the inside it’s not so shiny, is it? You make it seem like everything is perfect, exciting and well in Happyphotorainbowland, USA. You always tell people you are SO BUSY and that business is GREAT, because it’s the easy way out. I’ve seen the Tweets. You know, the ones where you brag about the number of weddings you booked THIS WEEK ALONE! What you don’t tell people is the truth. You never mention the struggles of actually running a business and balancing your life in a healthy way.

The truth is, you lack direction. You feel uncertain with who you are. You find this awkward need to feel accepted by your peers. You are struggling with your photography every time you pick up a camera. You’re clients aren’t always as “amazing” as you make them seem throughout your false façade of social media ramblings. Running a business is tough and the thought of having to walk away from it is always on your mind. You’re work is nowhere near stunning. And you have a long way to go before you even begin to reach your goals. It’s the brutal truth.

In the big picture, you are one small component to dragging the entire photo industry down. It’s because of this, so many other people in the photo industry stand in line beside you in the same boring old category of just being average at best. You have big hopes and dreams, but time after time you fail to inspire me. In fact, I only expect you to fail entirely.

I bet at this point, you’re probably rolling your eyes and fairly irritated at my all-too-typical sentiment plaguing the photo industry on the internet these days. You know, bitch about this – complain about that… Unfortunately, I tend to speak the truth. And sometimes it bites me in the ass. But I needed to get this out of my system.

Are you still listening to me Mr. or Mrs. Local Photographer? If you are, perhaps you didn’t see the real bigger picture here. Although I am writing this letter to you, what you didn’t realize is that I’m speaking about someone I know extremely well.

I’m talking to you, David Jackson. This is an open letter to myself.

I’m that Local Photographer. And I’m calling myself out for my views, techniques and ideologies spanning the past 10 years of my career in photography. I’m not writing this to bash myself over the head, generate a pity party or for that matter carry the bright flaming torch for the entire photo industry. But rather I view this as a means of keeping myself in check.

Sometimes we find the desire to point fingers, push blame, complain and endlessly bitch about all things failing in our current industry. At other times we inflate ourselves to epic proportions and end up looking like babbling fools in the process. Yet all too often we forget to look inward – to take a close look at ourselves and examine the things we do to box ourselves into a corner and push others away. We forget that we all have room to grow, to be better at what we do. Making mistakes is part of the game. And I have made plenty and will continue to do so for the rest of my career.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time looking at myself lately, determining that this mentality will cause all of us to eventually self-destruct. As hurtful as this letter comes across at face value, we can never change others. We can only change ourselves and grow on a personal level as photographers, artists and business people. I’m finding out it’s not about the other people though. It’s about you and I. I’ve made the mistakes. I’ve followed the sickening trends early on and unsuspectingly listened to the masses. But I’m the only one who can do what is right for me. I need to remind myself that coming into my own isn’t an overnight process. I’ve spent thousands and thousands of hours trying to find my voice and place within the industry. I have yet to even scratch the surface and I still have thousands of hours ahead of me.

However, if we as creatives muster the courage to be honest with ourselves and follow our hearts, then we’ve begun to make a step in the right direction. There’s no handbook issued to us at the beginning of our journey, outlining the right moves and keeping our heads safely above troubled waters. We have to forge our own path. We make our own decisions. We are the ones who need to be honest with ourselves.

And at the end of the day, that is the only thing that truly matters.

Your pal,
Dave

What's your take on this open letter? Can you be so candid … to yourself? Tell us down below by your comments. A dialogue is a good thing. Your voice is heard here.

This is a guest post by Phillip Mackenzie, a Pennsylvania-based wedding & portrait photographer.

When people hear that I have three degrees in music and I’m now turning to photography, they often give me a quizzical look and ask why I would make such a drastic change. I don’t think it’s all that drastic, in fact, images and music are far more intertwined in their compositions and affectations than you might think.

Imagine this.
You’re out somewhere and a song starts. The infectious beat creeps into your body and your foot starts to move involuntarily, tapping to the rhythm. Something deep and primal infects you, and when the song ends you just want to hear it again! Any music that ellicits this sort of reaction is “get up and dance” music. This is opposed to “sit down and shut up” music that tends to be more cerebral than emotional, and demands your utmost concentration and thought to understand, just like some photography.

Music is everywhere. And it dares you not to pay attention.
Music is one of the most powerful forces in existence, isn’t it? Plato thought so. For millennia, people have danced, kissed, fallen in love, cried, got angry about, even gone into battle to a soundtrack. There’s an immediate, gut-level reaction. For instance: you either love or hate bagpipes. I’ve never met anyone who was indifferent. (And if you are, I’d love to meet you!) If you love them, there’s no more rousing sound than the pipes and drums of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guard. If you detest them, you want to rip off your ears.

Images have power too.
Images can elicit the same gut-level reaction, be it positive or negative. Jill Greenburg’s series of portraits called “End Times” is provocative. Your opinion is immediate, strong, and gut-level. Has time ever escaped you as you’ve taken in an image? The same reason you can’t get a song out of your head is the same reason you can’t stop looking at a photograph. While I can’t really explain the magic “why” of everyone’s gut reaction, I can explain the “how.” When you hear a great song, you play it for your friends, tweet about it, make sure other people listen to it. When our clients see photos that sing to them, they can’t help but spread the word. All of a sudden that one photo (or more, hopefully!) can spread across the entire world like wildfire. If you create images that sing, they’ll do all the work for you. And here’s how to do it.

Break it down.
What was the last photo you saw? What do you remember? Did you feel great joy or desolation? Melancholy? A couple deeply in love with each other? Both music and photography have the ability to capture our emotions and put them into aural or visual form. They do it the same way, just using different vocabulary. Let’s look at the basic elements of music:

• Melody
• Rhythm
• Harmony
• Timbre
• Dynamic

These are the most obvious and affective elements of music, and they are all paralleled in photography. Today we’ll explore the first two, melody and harmony.

Hear the Melody, Be the Melody. (The Obvious, In-Your-Face Part)
When I mention a song to someone and they tell me that they don’t know it, I respond with “Oh, you know, the one that goes like this…” and then I hum or sing a few bars of the melody. Strictly speaking, the melody is the theme, the single most recognizable part of a piece of music. Usually it’s the first thing you recognize about a tune (sometimes it’s the rhythm, but more often than not you still can’t be sure until you hear the melody). Melodies are amazing creatures; they can carry emotion and meaning even without words. When there is a lyric, though, the melody serves as the structure by which we remember the words. Don’t believe me? Try to recite the lyric to your favorite song without thinking about the melody…it’s a challenge! It functions in the same way as the subject of your photograph. It is the most basic, in-your-face element of an image. Look at the following image for 5 seconds or so, then close your eyes and see what you recall about it.

I’ll bet the first thing you remember is the girl’s incredibly bright and engaging smile. You might also recall the supporting color palette, and the contrast her hair color makes against the grassy background. All of those background details play a supporting role to her face, particularly the smile. This is the difference between melody and harmony. While you can distinctly remember a melody, the harmony tends to collect itself into large blocks or swaths of color or texture. While her smile may seem distinct in your memory, you may just recall the generally bright green color surrounding her without the various yellow leaves, and you’re not likely to remember the exact position of her left hand or even how curly or straight her hair might be. Melody. It’s what you remember.

Harmony: The Enabler. (The Bricks and Mortar of Music and Images)
If the melody is what you remember, the harmony is what helps you remember it. It’s what enables the melody to live and sing to our ears. It’s the rest of the Sistine Chapel ceiling that isn’t God and Adam. It’s the parts of New York City that aren’t tourist attractions. It’s the rest of the cast of a movie or a musical. In one-man shows, there’s always a supporting character even if it’s just the actor doing a different voice or personality (think Smeagol/Gollum in The Lord of the Rings), or speaking to an inanimate object like Tom Hanks did to his volleyball in Cast Away.

If I think of my favorite song, I might not be able to remember specifics about the harmony, but I can remember the “chunks.” In fact, it’s often incredibly difficult to sing a tune without hearing the harmony (either externally or in your “inner” ear). All you have to do is watch the auditions for American Idol for 5 minutes (or even 30 seconds) and you’ll hear that it’s quite difficult, and for some, impossible, to sing something without an accompaniment. Any time Randy Jackson tells them that their singing was “pitchy,” it would probably have been better with someone playing the harmony. Then again, if everyone sounded good with the harmony behind them, karaoke wouldn’t be any fun!

Think of your favorite song. Can you hum the harmony? How much about it can you remember? A melody can be made or destroyed by the harmony. In photography, the harmony could be called many things: the background, visual palette, scene, or frame to name a few. It’s the stuff in the image that’s not your subject. For a bridal portrait, the harmony might be a bright, vibrant, out-of-focus background and a bouquet.

Getting even more specific, the subject might be so small as just a person’s eyes, and everything else, including the rest of their body, becomes secondary. A fine example is Joe McCurry’s famous “Afghan Girl” (if you don’t know it, Google it now)—her indescribably hypnotic eyes are without doubt the focal point of the image. But without the rest of the image – her clothing, the framing, the green wall in the background that oddly matches her eye color – her eyes aren’t nearly as spectacular. The melody might be her eyes, but the harmony is the rest of the image. Nothing in that photograph is unimportant. Every element is there as part of the melody or the harmony to support it. Her eyes sing in that photograph and draw you in to see more.

Stay Tuned.
In Part II, we’ll look at the other elements and how all of them work in collaboration to produce a truly memorable song or spectacular image.