True confession, from someone whose former career was in marketing and advertising: I am lousy at self-promotion.
I know I am hardly alone: Most writers I read or follow find it difficult to put the sales hat on when their natural bent is to retreat into the wizard hat of creation. Of course, at a certain tipping point of sales and word of mouth, your name is all the self-promotion you need. But getting to that point involves marketing yourself. In my opinion, the contemporary author most successful at self-promotion is James Patterson, who back in the early years, personally paid the big bucks to run ads for his books in the New York Times Book Review, and later, even television commercials. Truly, how often had you -- have you even today -- seen a TV ad for a book? But it works for him, and according to his (admittedly self-promotional) website, he holds the Guiness record for the most New York Times bestsellers ever. Love his books or hate them, you gotta admit the man is a master promoter.
Then there's me. Hah. A few months ago, I created a series of full-color bookmarks promoting my novels, after a particularly embarrasing experience at a local Chamber of Commerce event when my hairdresser of ten-plus years overheard my husband telling someone about the upcoming release of Choice. She turned to me accusingly. "I never knew you wrote books!"
There's modesty, and then there's being ridiculous. I now carry these bookmarks with me to hand out, sometimes brazenly, such as when spotting someone else reading her Kindle while waiting for the doctor. A few of my more indulgent friends (my hairdresser among them) have let me leave a little pile of the bookmarks in their places of business. And today, because it, I heard the nicest thing. Deb, who works for my chiropractor and moonlights here at the bed and breakfast, said one of Dr. Sue's patients spotted my bookmarks in the waiting room.
"I've read all of her books," the woman said in a conspiratorial whisper. "My favorite was Blood Exposure."
"She'll be so pleased to hear that," Deb told her.
"You mean you KNOW her? She comes in here?"
"Every week," Deb assured her. "I could introduce you."
"Really? Could you?"
Made me feel like a rock star.
I tell you, it's the little things in life. Like being read. And appreciated. Which--who am I kidding!?--is far from a little thing. I am grateful for every reader, and doubly happy if they let me know, either directly or (even better!) via an online review, what they thought of the book.
All of which is by way of announcing that Blood Exposure has just been published in print form. My copies of it arrived this past week --woo hoo! See how nice it looks? It feels even better. (It's that tactile thing.)
Net Stalker tomorrow. My goal is to have it out by Labor Day.
Then, hopefully, I'll do a little coordinated marketing of the three of them. Like--hello!--sending out an email blast announcing their availability.
And given my pathetic self-promotion skills, I'll gladly take suggestions. Anyone?