A friend recently asked me if my publisher for my women’s fiction/contemporary romance series would be marketing for me. Common question. As much as I enjoy working with my publisher, and my editor rocks, the majority of the marketing is my responsibility. Doesn’t matter who your publisher is; one of the big five or yourself – marketing your book is your job.
And that’s no easy task. Not only am I not experienced in marketing ( I was a director of special events before I had kids) I don’t have enough hours in the day to write multiple books, and market them well. But I’m trying. Believe me.
What I am is creative. Creative people think outside the box because usually their box looks a lot different than the standard, beige, cardboard, rectangle with four flaps.
I attend many conferences for writers and readers. Often the conference offers a “goody room.” The goody room is a place for authors to display promotional items to get buzz out for their books. I’ve seen everything from pens to candy penises. I don’t know if any of this stuff sells books. Especially the pens, bookmarks, and chocolate. (I love bookmarks. Don’t get me wrong.) Personally, I won’t read your book just because you gave me a nail file for free. I have a nail file.
At the RWA conference in Orlando this past July I wandered the goody room and saw pretty much what I’ve seen before. I even passed over the candy penises attached to a card for an erotic romance. Yeah, I get it, book with explicit sex and a penis made of chocolate. Boring. Next.
Later I thought – if that chocolate penis had been attached to a card for a contemporary romance whose cover had a vase of flowers, a cute dog, and colored in pastels then I might pick up the book and say, “what’s this all about?”
I knew I had to do that for my book A Second Chance House.It’s a women’s fiction/contemporary romance coming out in early 2018. The cover shows a wrap around porch and a porch swing. What could I create to make someone say, “what’s that all about?”
I needed a light-hearted scene from the book. I needed a promo item that wouldn’t cost a fortune and would get people’s attention. My heroine runs out of gas. She’s mortified because the hero comes to save her, which is exactly what she didn’t want. I had to find gas cans. Nothing else would do.
I brought those bright red cans attached to a card with my cover on the front and the excerpt on the back. I heard, cute, clever, I love it, who came up with that for you? (I tried not to be offended. I don’t think she meant it maliciously.) All my cans went. I was very excited.
Will my gas cans sell my books? I don’t know. I can only hope that someone said, this author is creative and when her book comes out I want to read more.
For the second book in the series, A Bridge Home, I’m thinking a men’s razor. Or maybe a kit for stitches. That chocolate penis might work too. We’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.
Recently I heard an author describe his book to a potential reader. And then I watched the reader’s face glaze over. It happened more than once. No one bought a book. What went wrong?
I’ll tell you. He never told the reader what his book was about, but he went on and on for several minutes. This may not be a traditional editing tip, like how many words you need for a thriller novel, (around 90,000 – 110,000) but once your book is published you have to sell it. No matter which publishing road you take. The author is always selling. And even before you sell it, you might be pitching to an editor or agent. You have to be able to tell others what your book is about.
In 25 words! Okay, I’ll give you one or two more, but it needs to be in one sentence. Have you heard of the elevator pitch? That’s what this is. Thirty seconds to tell someone what your book is about. Not five minutes like my author friend from earlier.
Here’s mine from my first book, Welcome To Kata-Tartaroo: A thirteen year-old boy was catapulted to the scariest place imaginable and has twenty-four hours to collect three mystical objects to save him and his two new friends.
That was twenty-eight words. Now, if I have a chance to explain more to my reader I can, but if I can’t, you get an idea what that book is about. It’s middle grade (thirteen year-olds), probably a fantasy (mystical objects and catapulted to the scariest place imaginable), has thriller like elements (twenty-four hours ticking time bomb), friendship (two new friends) I’ve told you a lot without making your eyes glaze over.
Ask yourself what the core of your book is about. Write it down. Or do you already have back cover copy? Does that truly reflect the essence of your story? Cut that down. But if you’re doing this for the first time write down your core message. Don’t worry about the word count yet. Then you’re going to put your editor hat on and you’re going to cut that message down. Keep the 25 word count in mind. Aim for that. Bounce it off your critique partners. Or other writer friends. You’ll know when you’re ready.
Any questions? I love to hear from you. Drop a line. Twenty-five words or less. 😉
I’ve wanted to be a published author my whole life. It wasn’t just writing I wanted to do. I wanted my name on a hardcover book, copies in all the big book stores, and tons of readers. By the time I was really ready to publish a book, the publishing industry changed. The odds of seeing my name on a hardcover book dropped to nil and my books in a book store? Well, what book stores?
But that was okay, I could adjust the dream. I wanted an agent and a traditional publishing deal. I wanted someone on the other side of the gate to validate me as a writer. And I came pretty darn close. An editor of a small publishing house loved Welcome to Kata-Tartaroo.She said she’d never seen anything like it before. Finally, I found success. Not. She fell off the face of the earth for a year. She ignored my emails wondering when we’d get started with our process then one year later she wanted to know if my book was still available. Really? I wanted to say. Where have you been all this time?
The book wasn’t available. After much deliberation and some advice from a successful friend in the industry, Jen Talty, (Check her out. You’ll love her books) I decided to self-publish.
I hate that term. Self-Publish. I didn’t do it by myself. I hired a professional editor. Someone who worked in the traditional business for fifteen years before going off on her own. I hired a cover designer and my covers rock. They look better than many traditionally published books. I hired a formatter to set my books up for print and the E version. I never paid anyone to publish my books. A way for me to put my books out in the market had become available without the aid of an agent or an editor of a publishing house and I took advantage of it. It shouldn’t matter how I published, but it does and not just to me.
I spend a lot of time educating myself on the craft and business of writing. I follow Bob Mayer religiously (someone else you should check out. His books are great and he’s the expert in the industry on publishing. If you’re a writer reading this and you don’t follow Bob, start.) Bob says if you’re a new writer you should traditionally publish first then switch to self-publishing to become a hybrid author. (The term Bob coined.) I didn’t follow that advice, maybe I should have.
As a self-published author (instead of self-published how about avant-garde publisher?) there are things in the industry not available to me. Writing organizations won’t allow me to call myself an author because I’m not with a publisher on their list. I can’t get reviews from the elite review organizations unless I pay for them. And today I found out an event I attended last year isn’t open to me this year because they went and changed the parameters to traditionally published only. Which really made me mad.
I know why they do it. Anyone can self-publish. (Let’s say that’s different than what I did. Remember, our new term, avant-garde publisher.) Anyone can write a book, slap their pen down and upload it to a publishing site and voila! Millions of people can now see your book. Many and I mean many of these writers don’t take the time to learn their craft. They wrote their first book and think it’s so fabulous it must be a best-seller. (I did too, but that isn’t the book I published. I learned why it shouldn’t be published.) Now, don’t get me wrong, some people do publish their first book ever written, but if it isn’t at the insistence of an editor, I might hesitate.
Maybe these self-pubbed authors even hired an editor like I did, but they really don’t know the craft well enough and they still publish too soon. I’ve met a lot of these people. I meet a lot of writers many of them self-published. I check out their work just to see if I’m wrong and I’m usually not. They make all the amateur mistakes new writers make and then they go ahead and publish anyway. Because they can. And that makes it bad for writers like me.
What makes me an expert on how to write? Twelve years of attending workshops, conferences, and seminars. Writing six books. Learning from my critique partners. Teaching creative writing to others. So, I recognize right away when an author decides we needed to know all the backstory on the first ten pages before the story even begins because the author thinks the reader won’t understand what’s happening. Amateur mistake. And good Lord, it’s made a lot.
Quite honestly, I don’t want to be in that group with those writers. I don’t want to be alongside the writers who don’t know how to write, (like the author who wanted to write a romance novel about a married couple who were in love. And showed me the description for the back cover copy. What??? I wanted to say. Have you even read a romance???) but put a book out there because they could. So, yes, I’m a self-publishing snob.
I hate when people ask me who my publisher is because I don’t want to tell them. My writer friends tell me not to worry. Everyone is self-publishing now. Yes, authors who were with a traditional house are switching over because you have total control of your books, your brand, the price you charge and the design on your covers. You also make more money on each book. The same goes for me so that’s the up side and a strong one at that. Plus, traditional and self-pubbed have to do the same amount of marketing themselves, unless you’re Stephen King, so why traditionally publish at all?
To swim with the big kids. Just once.
Maybe if my sales were sky-rocketing I wouldn’t care about my self avant-garde published persona. Who needs your stupid event, I could say. Sales have nothing to do with where the book is published. That’s all on me and way harder than I ever thought it would be to find readers.
Why do I need this traditional validation? I have readers who like my books. Book clubs making their woods into Kata-Tartaroo. Students doing book reports on my book. Another who drew me a picture of one of my characters. I know I’m a good writer, but it’s like being the only one not invited to the cool kids party. It hurts. It’s not the dream. And I’m left standing in the corner with the kids picking their noses. (Don’t yell at me. Not all first time self-pubbed authors are the kids picking their noses, but I promise you, there are more than you think and some of you don’t know who you are. Here’s a tissue.)
Do I give up? Maybe. Write another book? Doing that now. Traditionally publish? Some days yes. Some no. Avant-garde publish? Kind of like the ring to that.
I don’t know what the future holds. I hope there’s a spot with my name on another book. I hope I find more readers out there. Or maybe it’s time to take up the violin and put the writing thing away. Who knows. Not me.
Are you a snob about anything? How do you handle it? I’d love to hear from you.
For those who’ve been following this blog for any amount of time, I hope I’ve been really clear that I support all paths of publishing (vanity press doesn’t count).
All forms of publishing hold advantages and disadvantages and, as a business, we are wise to consider what form of publishing is best for our writing, our work, our goals, our personality, etc. But my goal has always been to educate writers so they are making wise decisions based off data, not just personal…
I think I’ve become a town crier. Here’s what wikipedia says a town crier is:
The town crier can also be used to make public announcements in the streets. Criers often dress elaborately, by a tradition dating to the 18th century, in a red and gold coat, white breeches, black boots and a tricorne hat. They carry a handbell to attract people’s attention, as they shout the words “here ye, here ye.”
I’m not making public announcements in the streets, though I could be persuaded, but I do announce the time every morning. I bang on Noodge 1’s bathroom door and shout the time so he will get out of the shower and make it to the bus on time. I don’t understand why he spends so much time in the shower, and honestly, I don’t want to know, but I do want him to make the bus so I march up the steps, bang on the door, and cry out the time.
Part of me finds this whole escapade every morning frustrating because in addition to crying out the time for the shower I must announce the time to wake him up. (The only things missing each morning are the gold coat, white breeches and the handbell. Wait a second, I actually have a handbell! Hmm….I might be going about this all wrong.)
I don’t want to be the town crier, though I might want to wear the clothes. I want Noodge 1 to wake up by himself, take a shower without a reminder to get out and oh, I don’t know, wear his retainer without being told. “Is that too much to ask?” I ask.
But part of me, the mommy part who misses her little bald baby sometimes, takes a deep breath and says “enjoy being the crier. You look good in the hat.” You see, in two very short years, Noodge 1 will be in college and I won’t be able to walk into his room and shake him awake or bang on his bathroom door. I’ll miss him terribly and wake each morning wondering if he got off to class all right. I won’t know how he’s spending his time or if he’s getting his homework done.
Noodge 2 doesn’t need me to wake her up, gets ready on time, and has one foot out the door into adulthood already. She won’t step into her brother’s place for me.
After Noodge 1 goes, how will I spend my mornings?
Folding up the breeches, hanging up the coat, tucking away the tricorne hat.
You can bet I’ll never stop ringing that bell!
By the way, Welcome To Skull Mountain, book three in the Gabriel Hunter series, is due out the end of November. More details coming soon.
But first let me tell you a little story, with the upcoming release of my third book, I’m going to submit Welcome To Kata-Tartaroo (Book One) to BookBub for selection. BookBub is an on-line ebookstore that allows readers to purchase really good books for a small amount. Not every book submitted is selected, but from my research it appears those books that are selected end up with lots of downloads which means more readers than before. I’d like to be one of those authors. I’d really like to grow my readership, but here’s where I need help. I need more reviews on Amazon and GoodReads in order to be chosen. I don’t have enough now, so if you’ve already read Kata-Tartaroo, and haven’t yet written a review, would you mind writing a short review for me? One sentence will do. It doesn’t have to be 5 stars either.
Well, like everywhere on the east coast it is the start of another school year. So many of us are jumping up and down and shouting, “YEAH!!!” My kids are going to learn all kinds of great stuff, make ever-lasting friendships, and love their parents unconditionally. Okay, I admit it, there are chocolate rivers where I live.
But seriously, the school year is upon us and I love the structure the school day gives our lives. My kids get on the bus at an ungodly hour, and in the winter in the pitch darkness, and I now have 7 hours to write, which really means I have 7 hours to write, market my writing, take care of the house, the dog, and exercise because I constantly slurp from the chocolate river.
Today was the first day of school for Noodge 2. She’s in the 8th grade and Noodge 1 started his sophomore year last week. I’m a big kid mom, which means, I’ve been to the first day of school rodeo several times. And I think it’s showing.
Two years in a row I forgot to take someone’s picture on the first day. Probably because they no longer begin on the same day and once the first one goes, well, it ends up being tough luck for the second one. I’ve stopped buying brand new clothes for the first day of school unless I’m pestered which would only be by Noodge 2 since she’s a she. But why bother wearing new fall clothes when the first week of school could be a hundred degrees and you’re going to need to wear the same things you’ve been wearing all summer? Why not wait a few weeks, the crowds will die down and the fall clothes will be on sale. You won’t need a sleeve until October. See? Big Kid Mom tricks. Ten years ago I was a very different mommy.
But I always drive my kids to the bus stop because we live too far away from it to walk and if they did even want to walk, which God forbid, they do not, they’d have to leave at least 10 minutes sooner to get there on time and we all know what 10 less minutes means in the morning. Even in the land of chocolate rivers.
For the high schooler, I drive down, drop him off and turn around to go home. Easy-peasy-one-two-threesie. And remember, school started last week. High school is old hat by now. But the middle school started today. Oh boy, what a difference at this bus stop and there has been a bus restructuring so now we have some elementary school kids on the bus. Big Kid Mommy wasn’t expecting what she found at the bus stop. Oh no.
Tons of kids, in the street, lined up to take photos and all the young mommies outside their cars, chatting, cameras at the ready. There was even a daddy and a mommy team. Really? It’s just the first day of school. There are 179 more opportunities to come to the bus stop.
Unfortunately, for me, it’s a been there, done that, kind of thing. I’m an old mommy. I want the bus to come so I can get back to work. And don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to death. I enjoyed having them around all summer, but it’s school and it’s time to get back to business.
So, when we turned onto the street and there was a parade of people at the bus stop, I stopped the car half-way down the street, turned to my daughter, told her how much I loved her, to have a fantastic day, but I wasn’t going to attempt to drive my vehicle through that crowd to jockey for a space on the street and I wasn’t going to get out of my car and take pictures of her. She would rather die than allow me to do that. School pictures are only allowed in the house and I can only share them with my mother.
And guess what? I forgot to snap a picture of her this morning,after all. Well, that’s what tomorrow is for or the next day. In twenty years, who will even remember what day it was I took that picture? Not me, I’ll be sipping from the chocolate river.