SNAPSHOT FROM THE FERAL LIFE OF AN INDIE AUTHOR
Time to focus on marketing. Three years after putting a story on amazon this might seem a little late. Add on the 18-mo I wasted on Harper Collins' authonomy.com and I'm 4-1/2 years out of pocket. I now wonder if a story which has been out and about for a while, but not caught a breeze can redeem itself? Or is such a story like one of those houses you see in the house ads that never sells, month after month because the owners had just got it all wrong time and price wise?
I don't think so. Give an ebook a new title and a new cover and off we go! Bang out a few thou copies via a freebie and... Then what? I know, give that zombie of a website the kiss of life! Ever kissed a zombie website before? Thought not. I have two of them actually rjaskew.com and iTweetYouNot.com - the second of which probably tells you all you need to know about my social media skills. I watch others here there and everywhere who are like social media gymnasts the way they do the biz, all slinky tweets n sexy facebooks. Alas, my electronic smile is as left-handed as my real one. So social media will never get me that thousandth sale.
How about a bit of old fashion rsss licking on a local level? St Albans has just hosted its first ever literary festival. Whoop! Whoop! Tezza Wogan was the headline act, it was that classy. Squirts n swoons.
Anyway, I pulls my black-faded-to-rust hoodie hood up and slinks into Waterstones on the high street last Thursday night, like a fox in the waste bins. Of the 40 or so peeps there, about 23 read their stuff. This was good. Far better than tapping one's life away, ineffectually trying to ingratiate oneself to other newbie wannabes. I am animated. A couple of the readers are stoked. And, luckily, none of them stinks the place out. I don't like to witness abject jabbering in public. It bothers me. There but for.. y'know.
Anyway, come half time, I close in on one of said readers and start to give it large. The full praise and curiosity attack. The poor guy had probably never been more bigged up in all his life. And I was genuine about it. I loved his stuff. My hand was shaking, such was my enthusiasm.
Fact is, it was great to meet real authors, reading their stuff to real people. I mean it was, erm, - real, I suppose is the only word for it.
I latch onto a woman who wants to know if anyone has published an ebook. You may well imagine my sharky smile as I reach for my handly little silver case packed with biz cards of my new front cover. Damn, did you see that sly glint on my front tooth as I deploy my TV-teeth smile. Not that I actually have TV-teeth, but we can all dream.
Anyway, she hangs on my every word - I cld see her turning puce and choking. I can't believe anyone knows less than me about the ebook biz, but they do. I get home and I sell a tranch of war loan to buy her book. 77p. My review is live by noon the next day. I actually loved the book. Genuinly. No seriously, I loved the book. It is a masterly piece of satire. But the author does not even own a kindle and hasn't a scooby about how to catch the breeze for her story. I cld weep. Esp as she also can't actually buy yours truly's rebranded n relaunched product, as Harper Collins might refer to a book. Da Product. Da Branding. Da Da. Time to relaunch DaDaism Da maybe Da?
Anyway, that was the end of my BIG marketing push. The book signing I planned to go to, and the Sat afternoon seminar, and the local poet's gig on Sunday in some half-baked-potato bar were all sadly missed. But hell, I did manage to hand out that one biz card, so I'm still in with a shout.
Meanwhile, here I am, tap, tap, tapping, rap, tap, tapping my life away from by amply proportioned kitchen - seats eight - in he heart of St Albans, Deadrie the dishwasher churning away happily to my right. Nice dishy-wishy-washer - writing an ebook are we for NoNov, are we? I wonder how Tezza Wogan's marketing push went. I believe he has a book to sell right now, too. Don't we all. Ahm only buy'en 'is if he's buy'en mahn, like. Cue 'Wonderwall - Oasis', ah kid.
p.s. this is my offering
myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer
I don't think so. Give an ebook a new title and a new cover and off we go! Bang out a few thou copies via a freebie and... Then what? I know, give that zombie of a website the kiss of life! Ever kissed a zombie website before? Thought not. I have two of them actually rjaskew.com and iTweetYouNot.com - the second of which probably tells you all you need to know about my social media skills. I watch others here there and everywhere who are like social media gymnasts the way they do the biz, all slinky tweets n sexy facebooks. Alas, my electronic smile is as left-handed as my real one. So social media will never get me that thousandth sale.
How about a bit of old fashion rsss licking on a local level? St Albans has just hosted its first ever literary festival. Whoop! Whoop! Tezza Wogan was the headline act, it was that classy. Squirts n swoons.
Anyway, I pulls my black-faded-to-rust hoodie hood up and slinks into Waterstones on the high street last Thursday night, like a fox in the waste bins. Of the 40 or so peeps there, about 23 read their stuff. This was good. Far better than tapping one's life away, ineffectually trying to ingratiate oneself to other newbie wannabes. I am animated. A couple of the readers are stoked. And, luckily, none of them stinks the place out. I don't like to witness abject jabbering in public. It bothers me. There but for.. y'know.
Anyway, come half time, I close in on one of said readers and start to give it large. The full praise and curiosity attack. The poor guy had probably never been more bigged up in all his life. And I was genuine about it. I loved his stuff. My hand was shaking, such was my enthusiasm.
Fact is, it was great to meet real authors, reading their stuff to real people. I mean it was, erm, - real, I suppose is the only word for it.
I latch onto a woman who wants to know if anyone has published an ebook. You may well imagine my sharky smile as I reach for my handly little silver case packed with biz cards of my new front cover. Damn, did you see that sly glint on my front tooth as I deploy my TV-teeth smile. Not that I actually have TV-teeth, but we can all dream.
Anyway, she hangs on my every word - I cld see her turning puce and choking. I can't believe anyone knows less than me about the ebook biz, but they do. I get home and I sell a tranch of war loan to buy her book. 77p. My review is live by noon the next day. I actually loved the book. Genuinly. No seriously, I loved the book. It is a masterly piece of satire. But the author does not even own a kindle and hasn't a scooby about how to catch the breeze for her story. I cld weep. Esp as she also can't actually buy yours truly's rebranded n relaunched product, as Harper Collins might refer to a book. Da Product. Da Branding. Da Da. Time to relaunch DaDaism Da maybe Da?
Anyway, that was the end of my BIG marketing push. The book signing I planned to go to, and the Sat afternoon seminar, and the local poet's gig on Sunday in some half-baked-potato bar were all sadly missed. But hell, I did manage to hand out that one biz card, so I'm still in with a shout.
Meanwhile, here I am, tap, tap, tapping, rap, tap, tapping my life away from by amply proportioned kitchen - seats eight - in he heart of St Albans, Deadrie the dishwasher churning away happily to my right. Nice dishy-wishy-washer - writing an ebook are we for NoNov, are we? I wonder how Tezza Wogan's marketing push went. I believe he has a book to sell right now, too. Don't we all. Ahm only buy'en 'is if he's buy'en mahn, like. Cue 'Wonderwall - Oasis', ah kid.
p.s. this is my offering
myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer myBook.to/OneSwiftSummer
No comments have been added yet.
