Sam Russell's Blog, page 15

This week’s shenanigans – and there have been a few!

Great word shenanigans – “silly behaviour, mischief” or “dishonest manoeuvring”. I hope I haven’t been doing any of the latter.

SO! Tuesday the major magazine contact me to confirm travel arrangements to Friday’s photo shoot. It is actually happening then. Yikes. Travel expenses paid. Hair, make up, clothes and lunch all laid on. This does begin to feel a little bit like dishonest manoeuvring. I am not a celebrity. I am alternately grinning at the mischief and questioning my silly behaviour. The word fits, you see. Friends are beside themselves with the excitement of it all. I cannot count the number of messages I have received this week that include the word famous, or allude to my non-existent celebrity status.

“From farmer’s wife to international superstar!”

“Will we see you Saturday or are you too busy now that you’re famous?”

“Just remember we knew you when you were nothing.”

Sarky buggers my mates. But in truth they’ve been great. Every single one of them, friends and family both. Openly delighted for me. Sharing the adventure with gusto. It’s all a bit humbling really, I’ve only written a book.

“Bring a copy of your book.” The magazine said, “We’ll try to get it in shot.” Ridiculous luck on my part (the luck of ED being a smoking hot PR and pulling out all the stops for her ma). Or it would have been luck, if I had a copy of the book. Said elusive treasure was currently winging its way across the Atlantic with no tracking process that worked. I gazed despairingly at my mocked up ‘Guardian Careers’ with my front cover stuck on it, and wondered if I had the gall to turn up clasping that.

On Thursday, mid-Tesco-shop, I received that very rare thing – a text from The Husband. “Book is here” (the farmer uses words sparingly). A few hurried and unusual grocery purchases later and I was charging home to meet the new arrival.

I’m in love. I can’t stop grinning. Even the battered corner (it was a long and arduous delivery) cannot dampen my adoration. My words inside a book cover. I accept that I’m biased. I am sure we all think our babies books are the cutest on the planet. Pre-Friday photo shoot the book remained firmly inside its bent cardboard packaging. Wrapped in a polythene bag. Beneath a lap top and the Oxford Reference Dictionary (in an attempt to correct the very minor birth defect). I cradle it protectively and let interested parties view from afar. Even I dare not open the pages for fear of despoiling its beauty before it has been photographed.

On Friday I’m at the station, ticket in hand, twenty minutes early. Chilly morning, Friday, but the book was fine inside its personal suitcase, swaddled in thee layers of bubble wrap (OK, I’m exaggerating now. But it is true that the handle of the bag did not come out of my hand for the entire journey, so great was my fear of leaving it on the train). Beautiful ED, my home-grown PR is lounging outside the studio in wait for me, looking every bit the part. I worry that the magazine will be sorely disappointed when they work out which one of us they have got to photograph. YD (you work it out) wanted to cancel riding and uni to join me too. I put her off in case the studio wouldn’t let her in. Bless my girls.

What an experience! Lovely group of women. I was pampered and coiffed by the beautiful Juan who could not have been kinder. ED is networking furiously, and throwing my book under the noses of anyone who looks important. I am in 6” heels (the hip is still complaining), wearing individual false eyelashes and £140 pink jeans (I photographed the label and looked them up). That isn’t me in the picture above by the way. I am considerably wider and shorter than your average model. Not to mention twice the age. When the photographer looked through her lens and called “sad crease” I thought she was talking about my face. She was actually referring to the fall of my jeans. Much easier to rectify. Make up, hair, and fashion rushed on between shots to adjust my fringe, straighten my clothes and add lipstick. I am not usually adept at smiling for the camera but my rising levels of hysteria at the situation I found myself in helped considerably on this occasion.

A lovely end to the week; family lunch at the farm to see the Gallivanting Granny off to Oz, with copious amounts of Australian fizz to toast her on her way. We’ve been attempting to connect her back to us by way of Hudl and a Facebook account. I could tell you more about our efforts, but I think that’s a whole other blog, and GG is on the phone. Telling me that airport WIFI doesn’t work.

Dodging bullets and double identites

I appear to be on the back foot. Again. Mad, hectic week moving The Mother in to her new house. The fantastic, gallivanting granny is off to Oz in a week and if she can cope with what she’s been through in the last year and a half, then move home, take off across the world, and still come up smiling…well! I would like to hold her up as an example of dogged determination in the face of adversity. At the age of 79. They can teach us all a thing or two these olduns.

The paragraph above is in part a forward apology for my ramblings on about the minor, insignificant obstacles that continue to trip me up on my self-publishing path. I am going to ramble anyway, of course. That is the purpose of this blog.

This week’s surprises fell in to three camps:

Publishing
Marketing
Farm Life

The publishing bullet came in the form of Amazon dropping a ‘minimum pricing’ requirement on my book. How on earth did I not know about that? Of course it makes sense, a monkey could work it out. If I want the book to be in print, with a nice shiny cover, they have got to print it. And it can’t be sold for less than the cost of that. Strangely though, I have managed to get through the entire self-publishing process without stumbling over this relevant fact. I even had a conversation with my CreateSpace editing team about pricing and where to place the book. They helpfully gave me a suggested range and ‘similar book comparison’ exercise to follow, but failed to tell me that Amazon would play a major part in the decision. Bullet narrowly dodged by the minimum price being only pennies higher than the figure I had in my mind. Lucky that.

Marketing has been a rollercoaster. Twitter is going swimmingly, followers up and some great moments of banter. I’m loving the blogging community, and following so many people now that it is a miracle I get anything else achieved. I am hopeful that I have a book review lined up with one of my fellow bloggers (I will mention names when confirmed, but wouldn’t want to presume) and an author interview on another site (likewise).

The golden bullet came when ED (eldest daughter) informed me of the possibility of an interview and photo shoot with a major magazine. Way, way, way out of my comfort zone. At the same time just too big an opportunity to turn down, if it comes off at all. Part of me hopes it doesn’t… When said magazine called me for a chat (pre-booked and fully warned) I couldn’t remember the name of a single author or book in response to the standard questions “Which authors have influenced you?” and “What are your favourite books?” Where is that monkey, and can I use him as my stand in? ED was unimpressed.

Which leads me on to Facebook, author profile pictures and double identities. Specifically the pen name. Author Me now has a Facebook account and page, but all my regular, actual, real life friends are callously rejecting my invites because they don’t know who the hell I am. The Brother generously offered up his photography skills to do me some author profile pics. He has taken some great shots. Of Real Me. Do I share these on my Author Me sites? And if so what was the point of a pen name in the first place? The magazine, if it comes off, will be featuring Real Me. Not Author Me. Sorry, confusing I know. Welcome to my world. I should have bitten the bullet, and put my name on the cover. (Far too many bullet analogies in this post. Apology number three.)

The comic twist to my author profile pics, is that my physical proof book didn’t arrive in time for the shots. The Brother lives three hours away and was actually here to help The Mother move. In desperation I ‘mocked up’ a copy of the book (my cover image, stuck over the top of ‘The Guardian Guide to Careers’ with sellotape). The book is decidedly bigger than I had envisaged, despite the fact that I have known the measurements for at least five months. I dare not release any of the pictures until the actual book arrives for fear of being prosecuted under the trade descriptions act if I have messed up again.

To top off the week, the opportunity of changes on the farm have found us locked in often fruitless, circular debate around the kitchen table. For more hours than I care to count. Life’s rich tapestry is asking for bold colours. I’ve armed myself with a thimble and I will keep stitching. I have the example of a gallivanting granny to follow.

Well, I’ve done it! I’ve linked my Twitter and Facebook accounts

Hurrah, I’m actually getting somewhere. Finally learning something about digital media. I know, it took me a while.

Look me up on Facebook or Twitter if you want to say hi.
Like my page – Sam Russell Author (only if you actually like it, of course!) Updates on the release of A BED OF BARLEY STRAW will be posted on the page.
And you lucky people can now follow my blog from either location! Thanks for reading –  I hope to meet you there.

Networking or making friends? Ever increasing circles.

One of the nicest things about my writing and publishing journey is the connections I have made with others.

Just when the process of marketing my book is becoming underwhelming (when only 3 people have read my blog and my clever tweet has passed unnoticed) someone really nice pops up and lifts my spirits. Just yesterday for example, a fellow author who I met on twitter helped me out with my ‘smiley faces’ (emojis – yes I know that now. I really was that ignorant when I entered this brave new world). The same gentleman has offered his assistance with my webpage (when I have girded my loins in preparation for that task). I have also traded pictures, gossip and book reads (“you read mine and I’ll read yours”- that sort of thing), discussed variations in landscape, language and weather between the UK and Canada, followed no end of interesting blogs and shared the experience of publishing a book with others following a similar path. I have connected and interacted (awful word) with countless colourful new characters, some of whose traits may appear in future novels.

As a marketing and networking experience I can’t tell you (yet) if my efforts to create a ‘media presence’ have had any success. But I have made friends, so regardless of sales figure outcome, it has been worthwhile. The downside if there is one, is that you do get drawn in. The distraction factor is massive. I am no longer sure if I am marketing or just being nosy. Furthering my knowledge or chatting to friends. I might simply be procrastinating. And then there is that disturbing comparison thing. I think you know what I mean: “Their blog page looks better than mine.” “They’ve got so many followers.” “Now that looks like a well thought through marketing campaign” (as opposed to my vague and confused meanderings). I try to fight it, but I don’t always win. I am naturally competitive. Character flaw number ? (does anyone who has been reading my blog since the beginning recall the tally? If not, please do some revision.)

This week’s motto: Learn, don’t envy.

A reminder to myself to put in the work. It would be easier if I knew exactly what I was supposed to be working on. Three new books in progress; the sequel to A Bed of Barley Straw, a brand new romance, and a shorter work of fiction. Launch and marketing for A Bed of Barley Straw is high on my priority list. Meanwhile, the farm accounts are in disarray, housework is nagging and the dogs need a walk.

But I’m busy blogging. And when I’ve finished here I probably ought to check in on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads and Amazon. Ho hum.

A BED OF BARLEY STRAW – What a journey it has been!

The book is nearly there. About to be released. Final interior approved. Ticked off, achieved.

I found one typo in the final proof, and stressed over-much about whether I ought to go back for yet another round of changes. For $79, on a book that has yet to sell a single copy. I can’t of course, but that error is troubling me. I have promised myself that the first $79 dollars of profit (if I’m so lucky) can pay for the correction. And in the meantime, a prize to the first person to locate the surplus ‘was’.

I am excited, terrified and knackered. Not by the writing or editing, but by the terrible thought of releasing the book to the world and having to market it. Marketing is exhausting, and uncomfortably needy. My inner voice is screaming “read it or don’t, I couldn’t care less.”  But there is a subversive whisper. “All that effort for a book that nobody knows exists. Bit of a waste of time wasn’t it?”

I am not yet convinced that Twitter is a useful platform. Interesting and quirky, if you are not trying to sell something. Possibly hugely productive for established VIPs, who have ??million followers awaiting their every tweet. Less so if you have to strive endlessly to get so much as a favourite, and haven’t even mentioned the name of your book yet (about to be remedied with the title of this post!)

My twitter feeds me endless plugs for books. I have registered the titles of two of them, and they were written by authors I have chatted with. I flick past the others carelessly, and I do not want to insult my small but friendly band of followers by plugging away relentlessly in every tweet. I will have to think of something. Original thought is sadly lacking at present, all used up my attempts to tweet something clever.

Next stage – I await a physical copy proof in the post. Can’t wait to see it and hope against hope that I love it when we meet.

I need to crank up my Goodreads and Facebook presence. Some progress made, I have accounts with both! And a page, work-in-progress, for the book. I do believe that lovers of romance will enjoy my book. The story is good, and I should know I wrote it. Plus, I must have read it close to twenty times. I know how it starts, develops and ends, and it still makes me smile.

Just the elusive customer to track down then. Final push, ultimate effort, fingers crossed. Meet me on Twitter, Facebook, or Goodreads – I will be there – soon!

Blurb – strange word, strange process

Blurb. It is not a word that rolls easily off of the tongue. Nor is it a process that flows from the mind. The definition in my Oxford Reference Dictionary:

Blurb n. descriptive or commendatory matter, especially a description of a book printed on its jacket. (Said to have originated in 1907 by G.Burgess, American humourist, in a comic book jacket embellished with a drawing of pulchritudinous young lady whom he facetiously dubbed Miss Blinda Blurb.)

Pulchritudinous! Now that is a word. Maybe I could use it in the blurb for my sequel (when I have looked it up… [definition: (literary) beautiful]).

I can’t, of course, because my blurb must use its maximum-200-word potential to good effect. Grab the reader, sum up the flavour of my book, entice you to hit the ‘buy’ button in the few brief seconds spent reading it. Using words that require definition would possibly deflect from that purpose.

CreateSpace’s explanation of my blurb:

The Book Description displays on your book’s Amazon.com detail page and in your eStore. This Book Description is a marketable synopsis of the main plotlines or key messages in your book. In conjunction with being commercially appealing and written with the main marketable theme in mind, it should also be a clear representation of what your target audience will receive upon purchase of your book.

Easy then? No, it isn’t. I read some very good advice recently; that you should complete the blurb for your book early on in the writing process. Long before the book is finished. That, as with your manuscript, you should take the time to read it, re-read it and read it again, throughout the process. Amending and improving as you go. Live with the words for a while, sharpen the phrasing. I didn’t do any of that, of course. I handed the job of writing my blurb over to the CreateSpace marketing team. And then I changed it. I showed it to the PR-employed Eldest Daughter, who changed it some more.  So it now bears little resemblance to the original blurb, created by the marketing team, which I had paid for. My feeling was that they had revealed too much of the story line. Hinted at secrets which unfolded within the chapters and should wait to be discovered by the reader.

If you are a writer, you are the person that knows your book best. Every twist, turn and development is there because you imagined it, constructed it and wrote it down. Consequently you, and you alone, are the person best equipped to write the blurb for your book. By all means, let other’s proof read it and consider suggested changes. Run it past anyone you know with experience in relevant fields – friends who buy books in your genre, mates who work in marketing or PR, librarians or bookworms…the list goes on. Then go with your gut and follow your instincts. Opinions are great and should be listened to, but they are only opinions. And you are allowed to have your own. Keep the faith when five different people are telling you five different things. You can work it out you know.

I hope that my blurb (partial view above) is “descriptive or commendatory matter”. That it is “commercially appealing” and “a clear representation of what my target audience will receive upon purchase of my book”. But that’s a hell of a lot to fit in to maximum-200-words. Time will tell if the words entice complete strangers to put their faith in me and spend their hard-earned money.

I hope that they do, but I hope even more that when they have, they really enjoy the book.

Rookie mistakes and pickled eggs – an original title

Catastrophe this week!

Well, ‘catastrophe’ might be stretching it a bit. Small, self-publishing hiccup (which felt catastrophic at the time) is more realistic.

I read Derek Haines’ blog on self-publishing (www.derekhaines.ch). Derek talks a lot of sense, which it isn’t always easy to hear. I keep reading him because he speaks the truth, and despite the fact that his words never fail to lead me ever deeper into the digital marketing swamp.

Anyway, I digress. The particular post I am referring to suggested that it was worth publishing on Smashwords in addition to Amazon. Smashwords publishes e-books in a format which is accessible to users who do not have Kindle. At least that is the gist of it, I think. There were actually a lot of technical words and ‘format’ types described, which passed over my head without causing my brain to take note. So I hope I have summarised correctly. I am digressing again. I blame it on twitter, I am no longer able to concentrate on any line of thought for more than 20 seconds.

Smashwords has a fine, clear website. Lots of easy-to-find instructions on how to self-publish, which are sorely lacking on CreateSpace. Also advice and general tips about writing your book, designing a cover, and selecting a title.

My title has been in place for some months now. My cover is signed off, my edited manuscript (with the name of the book featured on every page) was returned to CreateSpace for final publication over a week ago. It took me ages to come up with the title. I bounced various options off of friends, Googled phrases and meanings. Changed it, changed it back, and requested feedback from my editor. What I should have done, and didn’t, was search my title in Amazon. Under the books department. Rookie mistake.

Smashwords told me to do this, and I must admit my heart froze over momentarily. I delayed following their instructions for a full twenty-four hours before grasping the nettle and typing in the search. Hey presto! Fourteen other books with the same title as mine. Several of them in the same genre, which is not entirely surprising. It could have been worse. Smashwords tell me that if you use the words ‘star’ and ‘wars’ anywhere in your title, you are likely to return forty thousand items on any search. But fourteen books, on my primary selling platform, is not good enough.

CreateSpace told me that it wasn’t a great idea, to share your title with fourteen other authors. I think I knew that already, but I wanted to debate the issue with someone who knew what they were talking about. It briefly occurred to me that if one of the other books bearing ‘my title’ was exceptionally good it could even be a bonus. Readers might stumble across me on their search for something better and buy my book by accident. This is obviously a foolish form of marketing, although I believe China has used it to good effect. Given that the most recently published books appear at the bottom of the search, I imagine most readers would be worn out by the time they had scrolled down to number seven on the list.

Solution to my hiccup is a title change, of course. Back to the drawing board. Further costs involved I would imagine, because both my cover design and editing services with CreateSpace have been completed and closed. I will end up paying that $75 dollars after all, but maybe it was worth holding off. Maybe it still is, in case there is something else I have failed to do.

The sting in the tale of this story, is that I have now discovered that every title you can think of has already been written by someone else. Search any random words in Amazon books, and you will see what I mean. Forget proverbs, sayings, idioms. They have all been done before. My searches became increasingly outlandish, I even typed ‘Pickled Eggs’ in a moment of madness – no direct hits! But I don’t think I can call my book that.

Mother and I were shouting random phrases that came out of the telly throughout the evening. The best phrase of the night? Wolf Hall’s original use of English swear words in a configuration never heard before, but very, very funny.

One reassuring fact was that the working title of my work-in-progress sequel only returned one hit, and that was a gardening book written in 1954. Maybe I am growing wiser, or perchance I simply struck upon beginners luck.

The book almost has a new title. I’m bouncing it off of friends and family, Googling phrases and meanings, asking my editor for feedback. And I’ve searched it in Amazon Books – no direct hits. Yes!

Drowning in the digital lake

I confess to feeling a little overwhelmed this week. Digital exhaustion syndrome. Symptoms – sense of humour failure and general weariness.

I couldn’t help myself, I had to take a look at Goodreads, Facebook and free website creation, in an attempt to expand the marketing base for my novel. But my earlier statement that I am ‘technologied’ out proved to be very true.

Most of my weekend was spent in front of a computer. I worked out that free websites are not free, that Facebook is very demanding with its questions, and that Goodreads is a whole other community to connect and interact with. My interactions are already at frenzy levels. I had one of those moods on – you know the sort – where I didn’t actually want any more ‘friends’.  Certainly not friends I have to beg to like me, or perform to get attention from.

Five author bio’s required, profile pictures galore. There is a dearth of photographs of me in our house – I am the photograph taker. An even greater dearth of pictures of me that I like, and would be willing to share with the world. Not such an issue if I don’t solicit ‘friends’ to share them with, I suppose. I have cropped and snipped ferociously to extract my face from group shots, taken in 1997 or thereabouts, in which I looked quite nice. Then realising that when I am famous I will have to appear on TV, and that viewers will be saying “she looks a lot older than her profile picture” abandoned the pictures anyway. For now I am sticking with my wellies and books.

The ‘free’ websites were the most annoying. Don’t let me spend hours setting everything up on the promise of a stunning web address for just £1, if you are luring me in to a trap of £10 per month. As a matter of principle, if you attempt to trick me I will never buy anything from you. Just say it like it is – up front.

Technology wise, I am way out of my depth. I do not have the skills to set up a website. I have failed to link my blog to Goodreads and Facebook. I am scared of creating something that looks so amateur and naff it has a negative effect on my marketing efforts. Add ‘drop in self-confidence’ and ‘increase in cynicism’ to the symptoms of Digital exhaustion syndrome above.

I am ranting, I realise that. The hours I have spent interacting this week could have been spent on my book. Does digital marketing actually work? Can anyone tell me? This definitely isn’t why I started writing.

I know what I should, and must do. Organise, plan, set time aside for marketing interaction. Turn off audible notifications of tweets, re-tweets, messages and favourites received. Prioritise the book-farm-life on my schedule. It doesn’t help that I receive notifications on my computer, tablet and phone. Three beeps and birds/Fs/little envelopes for every communication. It is hard not to engage with each one of them as soon as they arrive.

I won’t direct you to my Facebook or Goodreads account, because as yet they do not contain a profile picture, ‘about me’, or in fact anything worth looking at. I won’t direct you to my website, either, because I don’t have one.

I’m off to schedule, prioritise and write. When I’ve finished this blog which, as yet, is not linked to anything.

Hopefully my sense of humour will have got its mojo back before the next blog post. In the meantime, ‘stick with the wellies and books’ is my new motto. I should give my phone to The Sister, who will be only too happy to hurl it in to a ditch for me. The computer to The Mother, who is an expert at ignoring messages. And the tablet to Youngest Daughter who will never allow me a look in once she’s got her hands on it. Maybe after I’ve looked at the 855 tweets currently showing on my twitter feed.

I’m twittering, and I know it

As suggested, by almost everyone I read who self-publishes and blogs, I bit the bullet and created a Twitter account.

Twitter, I discover, is frantic, scatty, insane. And slightly scary. But wow, who knew? (You lot obviously, because you’ve been tweeting for years). It is a miracle to me that, in an instant, I am linked to people from all over the world and all walks of life.

I am stalking the followers of other authors, and following them (as advised by my marketing research). How very un-English and rude. Every emerging author is doing exactly the same, so we are basically following each other. Trying to flog our books within a continuously growing loop of writers trying to flog theirs. Not that it isn’t great to be in touch with them, because it is. I have identified with their problems, discussed potential names for a racehorse with a very nice man in Australia, and ‘met’ lots of interesting people.

I am thrilled and excited every time I get a follow-back. Checking my follower numbers obsessively. Even more delighted when I gain an unsolicited follower, even though many of these have been from other authors, or people trying to sell me dietary advice, lifestyle coaching and beauty/fashion tips. How did they know I needed all of those things? I receive numerous affirmative, life enhancing quotes to guide me through my day. So many of them that I positively float to bed of a night, buoyed up on a glorious cloud of self-belief. And aren’t pets sweet?

I am talking in hastags. My children are rolling their eyes. Tense, daring, clever, addictive and frequently amusing. That’s Twitter, not me. I wish. In my dreams that would be a review of my book (with ‘raunchy’ thrown in for good measure). I’m sure Twitter is raunchy too but I’ve almost managed to avoid that so far. I say almost, because one author I’ve been tracking (who will remain nameless here) seems to have a lot of followers using their dicks as avatars. The modern form of flashing, without the cold draft? Or possibly a character statement summed up in a simple image?

Guiltily, I have un-followed three people. A character who’s tweets were too radical for me, a girl who was younger than her picture lead me to believe (I don’t want to be accused of pedalling smut to children) and a woman who’s constant tweets about her migraine were giving me a headache. Heartless, I know, but she’d had this migraine for three days and it hadn’t stopped her tweeting 30 second updates, or watching #CBB (Celebrity Big Brother, not Children’s TV, which is what I initially thought).  I made sure they had a billion followers before I un-followed them, because I would really hate to cause offence or trauma. Especially to the underage girl, who was apparently having severe parent trouble. That un-follow gave me a sleepless night, I wanted to write her a letter explaining that my un-follow was not personal.

I live in fear of re-tweeting something offensive or extremist because the message was attached to a cute picture. I tweeted a complaint to the Guardian when they failed to include the arrival of the contraceptive pill, on a timeline which did include the invention of the bra. Too late, I discovered that you can only see part of the image on your screen until you click on it. The contraceptive pill was clearly, plainly there. I tweeted an apology.

I am told I need a website and a Facebook and a Goodreads account. But I’m not entirely sure I can cope with further technological experiences at the moment. And my phone is already permanently glued to my face.