Peg Herring's Blog - Posts Tagged "promoting"
My Daddy Sold Used Cars
...And a lot of other stuff. Mom used to tell us not to stand too long in the front yard, because Dad would start dealing on one of us if someone made him a decent offer.
The urge to sell things is more complicated than it might first appear, at least for some. My father liked the dickering, the conversations, the compromises involved, but he really didn't care that much about the money. For him, I suspect, the satisfaction came from meeting someone's need. That's why we never got rich, but it's also why his funeral attendees crowded the church and stood in the overflow room and even the hallway and vestibule. Half the people in town had bought a good used car from Bud and were grateful that he hadn't gouged them, had made sure it had decent tires and didn't burn too much oil.
Dad once gave a man a car to test out for a while. The man drove it for three years and then brought it back, saying he didn't want it after all. Dad said not a word, because the man had five children and a terrible job, and he'd needed that car.
Now I'm the salesperson, offering books to readers. I can't get excited about the money part of it, although it would be nice to see a profit someday. What I enjoy is meeting readers who like what I write. Then I simply let them know it's out there. I can't press my work on someone who doesn't read mysteries, can't insist that a person will love my work just to get a sale. But when someone says, "I love reading about the Tudors" or "I like stuff about the '60s", I can feel that used car salesman in my background whispering in my ear, "It's time to deal."
The urge to sell things is more complicated than it might first appear, at least for some. My father liked the dickering, the conversations, the compromises involved, but he really didn't care that much about the money. For him, I suspect, the satisfaction came from meeting someone's need. That's why we never got rich, but it's also why his funeral attendees crowded the church and stood in the overflow room and even the hallway and vestibule. Half the people in town had bought a good used car from Bud and were grateful that he hadn't gouged them, had made sure it had decent tires and didn't burn too much oil.
Dad once gave a man a car to test out for a while. The man drove it for three years and then brought it back, saying he didn't want it after all. Dad said not a word, because the man had five children and a terrible job, and he'd needed that car.
Now I'm the salesperson, offering books to readers. I can't get excited about the money part of it, although it would be nice to see a profit someday. What I enjoy is meeting readers who like what I write. Then I simply let them know it's out there. I can't press my work on someone who doesn't read mysteries, can't insist that a person will love my work just to get a sale. But when someone says, "I love reading about the Tudors" or "I like stuff about the '60s", I can feel that used car salesman in my background whispering in my ear, "It's time to deal."
How Much Is Enough?
George Michael isn't the first to say it, although he said it really well. But the "How much" I'm thinking of is for writers promoting books. How do you know when you've done enough? You can go in twenty different directions, work days, weeks, and months on promotion, and get nothing.
I have a current project that is like that. I've done everything I can think of, and it has gone nowhere. Another project, one I did years ago and pretty much forgot, reaps regular rewards without any exertion of energy on my part. One is not better than the other. Somewhere along the line, one picked up steam and became self-perpetuating, and the other is having a hard time making a start.
I don't get it, but that's the way it is.
I have a current project that is like that. I've done everything I can think of, and it has gone nowhere. Another project, one I did years ago and pretty much forgot, reaps regular rewards without any exertion of energy on my part. One is not better than the other. Somewhere along the line, one picked up steam and became self-perpetuating, and the other is having a hard time making a start.
I don't get it, but that's the way it is.
