I Think I'm Winding Down

If I had marketing-related things I could do, I would (if the price was right). Lord knows I'm constantly on the hunt for things to do. But I feel like I've exhausted my options. Apparently, my only success has been in gaining Instagram followers, and I hate social media. Now I feel almost obligated to go there. That's not exactly a satisfying pastime, though. Push my book one more time? Why?

My email subscriptions are unsatisfying. A couple of promo sites send out frequent compilations of articles; some related to the writing process, some to marketing, editing, etc. I don't read the writing articles anymore, because I'm not writing. It's not as if I'm going to read a piece of stupendous advice and go back and edit my already published novel. 

So, the only articles that are relevant to me are the marketing ones, but they're so disappointing. I've become convinced that no one has a clue how to effectively market a book. All the advice is rehashed, and none of it works anyway. It doesn't matter if someone puts a new spin on it. I stumbled upon an article yesterday in which a guy explained how he markets his wife's books, and now she's rich, I tell ya! The only somewhat "new" advice he offered was to pick one advertising platform and stick with it, instead of spreading your ad dollars around. Great. What if the one you pick doesn't work? I understand his mindset, but just because it works for him, that's hardly universal. And his wife writes fantasy, so there you go. Fantasy sells itself. He could have picked books4U.com (not real) and been just as successful. See what I mean? How about if someone tells me how to sell mainstream fiction? 

Then I get the responses from professional sites that offer free reviews. Oops, we really don't. We lied. But here's a coupon for 15% off our $110.00 review. They could offer 50% off and I still couldn't afford it. Really, all I ask is that they don't lie to me.

Oh, and the Zoom seminars. I can barely get through one of David Gaughran's YouTube videos, but I'm supposed to sit through a live seminar on...what? Someone telling me to choose one advertising platform and stick with it?

Sometimes I'm tempted to start a blog for authors, telling them what doesn't work. I'd have tons of material. I'd title it, "The Failed Author".

My enthusiasm for my novel has waned. I'll still always believe in it, but any excitement I once had has faded. 

When I was a kid, we lived in the country, and sometimes my cousin would come over and stay for a few days. We both had vivid imaginations, so once we decided to set up a roadside stand. Our product was "pretty rocks". (We were probably seven or eight years old.) Up the road from our farm were railroad tracks, where the prettiest rocks resided. I'm not sure why that was ~ did the train wheels carry them along from some far-off land? The two of us would trudge up to the tracks and hunt down the prettiest rocks we could find. Then we trudged back, plopped them down on our stand and awaited our customers. It turned out that (a) hardly any vehicles traversed my country road; and (b) no one wanted to buy rocks. After a couple of hours we folded up our stand and threw the rocks in the trash. (Even I didn't want them. It turns out that if anyone wants rocks, they're everywhere to be found; even pretty ones.)

My novel is a pretty rock. It's not a rare commodity; books are everywhere, even pretty ones. My cover isn't even glittery. People love glitter. Oh, I could change it and make it glittery, but it would still be a rock. Maybe when I was seven and if I had actual money, I could have taken out an ad in our local newspaper, touting our pretty rocks. What that would get me would be an empty piggy bank and a tabletop of unsold rocks. Just like now.

My cousin and I moved on from rock selling. Our next venture was Barbie doll clothes fashioned out of Kleenex and bric-a-brac from my mom's sewing kit. Oddly, those didn't sell, either. The occasional farmer who zoomed down my country road in his pickup truck wasn't interested in Barbie doll clothes. We even lowered the price, but still got no takers. Life just isn't fair. You put all that work into something and nobody wants it.

I forgot about rocks and Barbie doll clothes within a day. It'll take me longer to forget about my novel, but I'm slowly getting there.