A Labor of Hate That Makes Me Want to Vomit

I hate self-promotion! I hate it with the passion that Casanova loved women; hate it with the fury of a rabid wolverine. I hate it like Cylons hate Humans, like Red Sox fans hate the Yankees, like reptiles hate winter, et cetera; et cetera; in a freaking cashmere sweater.I consider self-promotion to be a necessary evil within the all-access paradigm of today’s creative arts world; I consider it to be a labor of hate. That’s right, labor of hate. I know the popular expression is labor of love, but I reserve that phrase for such noble pursuits as raising children, or actually writing stories and novels for writing’s sake. No, self-promotion is something that I have to do, sort of like men of a certain age have to get rectal exams. In both endeavors, one must spread ‘em and hope for the best.Why do I hate self-promotion so much? The biggest reason is that time spent self-promoting and thinking of effective ways to self-promote keeps me away from the creative endeavor that I enjoy so much: writing stories. Man, I wish the publishing industry still operated like it did when writers I admire (like Stephen King and Walter Dean Myers) made their bones. Back then (so I hear, anyway), writers just kept sending out query letters and manuscripts until they found agents/publishing houses who thought their stuff was good enough to publish. Nowadays, it’s not just a question of whether a writer’s stuff is any good, but whether it is damn near guaranteed to sell. That’s what agents and houses seem to want- guaranteed sales. They want writers to have a freaking “platform” (a platform- what is this- a construction site?), before they invest any time and money into publishing the writer’s work. Even after a writer builds that “platform”, he or she is expected to do much of the promotional legwork. Oh, well. No use crying over milk I never tasted.I want to eventually earn a living solely as a writer, so I’m out here- in the real and virtual world, hustling my wares, as it were. I blog; I do social media; I get book trailers made, and all that other self-promotional type of crap (By the way, I can’t think of a more ridiculous concept than a book trailer. I mean- you’re not going to watch the book- are you? Why not just read a few pages of the book to see if the story grabs you? Is that too 20th Century? Anyway, if that sort of thing floats your boat- check out the book trailer for my novel, Dirty Hands. I’d rather you just buy the book, though.). I just want everyone who reads this post to know that I really dislike doing it. Hell, my goal as a writer is to reach that status where my name sustains itself. I want people to know I have a new book or e-book out and buy it just because they’re accustomed to loving my work. I tell you, people, if I ever reach that status, I will gladly become a literary recluse. J.D. Salinger and Harper Lee had the right idea, in my humble opinion, folks. The only aspect of their reclusiveness that I reject is that they both stopped writing (or at least publishing new work). I don’t think I could ever stop writing, but I would have no problem in ceasing to intentionally draw attention to myself.
I hardly think I’m alone among my chosen creative populace in my distaste for self-promotion. Whether they profess it in a blog post or not- many authors are introspective, introverted, and just plain uninterested in discussing themselves. I mean, you have to pretty much be by yourself to write well, people. I don’t know too many extroverted people who enjoy isolating themselves in pursuit of a task.  In my opinion, an extroverted writer is just like overkill from God. The existence of such a person is completely unfair to others in the same field, like how Lebron James is the fastest, strongest, highest jumper, and best passer on a basketball court. I think that if you’re a great speaker, you should become a motivational speaker and leave the rubble of the publishing industry to us those of us who best express ourselves in writing. Oh, I forgot, a motivational speaker (or a reality T.V. star, or an athlete, or a guy who cut his own arm off to escape from being trapped by a builder) is more likely to get tapped for a big publishing deal than an aspiring author without a proven “platform.” But I digress. In conclusion (and reiteration), the ongoing process of self-promotion sickens me and I’m only doing it in hopes of reaching a level of literary notoriety that would preclude me from having to toot my own horn. If that ever happens, look out, folks!I mean that, literally. You’ll have to look out for me. You’ll have to look really hard, because I intend to be 20,000 Leagues under the radar. (Get it? That’s a literary allusion, people.)