So, I've written a book.
Much as you may love and appreciate their support, you can't build a career on the (let's face it) charity of friends and family. At some point, you're going to need people- lots of people, people you don't know- to buy your book. And your next book. And maybe the one after that.
Fact is, you're gonna have to hustle, baby.
I started my marketing campaign long before I published my first book. How is this possible, you ask? Don't you need something to market first, you ask? Yes. And I had something to market.
I realize that sounds skeezy, dirty, and vaguely criminal, but hear me out. My writing reflects, to a large extent, myself. My personality. My voice. My sense of humor. My outlook on the world. Even under the guise of fictional characters and an invented storyline, all these things filter through. Ergo, marketing my personality, voice, sense of humor, and outlook on the world makes perfect sense.
I plan on writing more than one book. More than two. More than three. When I'm marketing myself, and not just my work, I'm marketing not only my current book, but all the books I have yet to write.
I know. Brilliant.
So what are you doing to market yourself? Are you? Does your marketing strategy revolve solely around putting up links to websites that feature your work? There's nothing wrong with that sometimes, but if that's all you're doing, you're missing the boat. People start to ignore you after a while.
Don't give them the chance. Be funny. Be interesting. Be charming. If you're none of those things in real life, make that part of your unique persona. Or lie. You're a writer. Think of something.
In the end, marketing isn't about selling a product. And contrary to what I've just written, it's not even about selling yourself. At least, not entirely. Above all, you're selling a story- about yourself, about people, about the world. In my stories, men are men, women are awesome, life is hard, and love is real.
What's your story? Find out, and you'll find how to market it.
Miss A Day Or Two?
Day 1: Lessons From The Cave
Day 2: Set Your Compass
Day 3: Don't Schedule, Manage
Excerpt from All That Glitters:
Greenish-gray water closed around her. The cold bit easily through her suit, nearly knocking the wind out of her. The weight-belt around her waist dragged her downward. She tried to get her bearings, but couldn’t even see her hand in front of her.
She sucked in another breath, her regulator echoing in her head. She would not panic. She could do this. She felt around her until her hands found the vacuum hose. Hand over hand, she followed it to the bottom.
The rocks under her feet made her feel a little better. She bent down close to the sea floor and shuffled some sediment aside. A dim smattering of yellow caught her eye. Inside her mask, Ava smiled. She planted one hand over it to mark her place and hauled the ungainly hose closer.
With a final, determined yank, it slithered over where she wanted it. It was heavier than she expected. Before she had time to react,the vacuum sucked up the tip of her dive glove. In a split second, the rest of her arm disappeared into the hose.
Ava screamed into her mask, but she knew no one could hear her. The tendons in her shoulder stretched as she fought to free herself. She clenched her teeth against the tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to die like this: alone. Cold. In the dark.