Indie Authors and Battered Self-Esteem

I'm feeling blue.

I had an ingenious marketing plan all worked out--run a FreeBooksy ad in conjunction with a Kindle Free Book Promotion, drive up my book's ranking (which did happen; my novel hit number one), then start my Amazon ad running. People would click on the ad and see just how popular my book is, thus being persuaded to purchase.

My ad has gotten zero clicks.

It's not the cover. My new cover is beautiful. I have no idea what my ad looks like, because I have no idea how to view it, but since Amazon didn't ask me for anything except the basics (daily spend, negative keyword targeting) I can only assume the ad is just the book cover and a buy button. I guess it's just not grabbing anyone. 

On the "plus side", this experiment will probably end up costing me nothing, but that's not really what I was going for. "Sure, just place an ad. It won't generate any sales, but hey! No money lost!"

This experience technically shouldn't batter my self-esteem. It's not as if someone read the book and hated it. And it's not as if they're judging my cover design, since the design didn't come from me. Yet, I still feel like a loser.

Thus, since I'm now getting marketing spam for Running From Herself, as opposed to one of my old books (thanks, LinkedIn), I almost feel the temptation to succumb. Almost. These people "get" me! They appreciate me! Sure, all they did was scour my website for nuggets they could include in their pitch, but the pitch is so spot-on!

Just take a look:

Running From Herself deserves a standing ovation, not Amazon’s polite golf clap  You didn’t pour your soul into those pages the caffeine overdoses, the “delete-rewrite-delete” spirals, the characters who start yelling in your head louder than your own family just so Running From Herself could sit on Amazon like an introvert at a rave, sipping lukewarm punch and hoping nobody notices.  And yet… without readers shouting about it, even brilliant novels get buried under an avalanche of “meh.” April, I studied your Amazon page (and yes, studied, like a jealous ex zooming in on every pixel of your glow-up ). And wow Running From Herself is not just another book. It’s the kind of story that grabs you by the collar and says: “Sit down, you’re about to feel things.” Leah Branch walking away from her band? Already a gut punch. Then Wyoming, the saloon, the lead singer romance… heartbreak, redemption, a second chance at music, then Nashville’s soul-sucking machine trying to turn her into a commodity. That’s not just a story about music that’s about identity, survival, and the cost of being true to yourself in a world that keeps shoving conformity down your throat.  And those reviews? Maria Ashford comparing it to Daisy Jones & The Six (mic drop). Readers praising your raw understanding of the music industry, your sharp ear for dialogue, your ability to capture both stage magic and backstage heartbreak. You didn’t just write a novel you wrote a backstage pass to authenticity.  Then I read your bio and almost threw my laptop in admiration. Minnesota farm girl turned songwriter, singer, blogger, magazine editor, cat mom, mother of two strong men eleven published works, self-publishing your own covers, running your own promotions, basically a one-woman band of creativity. If resilience had a sound, it would probably be your Spotify track list.  Here’s the cruel truth, though: books this authentic don’t always scream the loudest on Amazon. They get swallowed by the algorithm. And a novel that wrestles with music, identity, family, love, and the price of selling your soul? That deserves noise. That’s where I stumble into the story. I’m Linda Dalessio, book-obsessed freelancer and manager of a private 2,000+ reader-reviewer circle. Not bots. Not cardboard “great book, 5 stars” clones. Real humans who cry at 3 a.m., highlight entire pages, rant in group chats, and sometimes need therapy after a good plot twist.  When I share a book with them, they don’t just leave stars they leave footprints. They debate characters like they owe them rent, they feel every note of the music, they ugly-cry into their wine, and then they write reviews that sound like love letters or battle cries. And yes when a book hits hard, I even slip them coffee money, because catharsis deserves caffeine.  No fake hype. No shady shortcuts. Just raw, messy, soul-level engagement the kind of word-of-mouth that moves novels out of Amazon’s witness protection program and into readers’ actual lives. So here’s the only question I can’t stop humming like a hook stuck in my head:  Do we let Running From Herself whisper quietly in the corner… or do we put it on stage, crank the amps, and let readers scream its name until their throats give out?

Everything "Linda" wrote is true! I am awesome! And it's not just Linda; every marketer recognizes my brilliance. It's not possible for all of them to be wrong!

Flattery will sometimes get them everywhere. Some poor schlub who's a failure like me is sure to bite. Unfortunately, unlike an Amazon ad, when this scheme doesn't work, the author still has to pay.

Linda didn't mention it, but most scam marketers have--that my novel only has six reviews. Those are the authors they target. One doesn't need to have a degree in psychology to know how to exploit losers. They promise the one thing that authors like us fantasize about--finding that true winning formula. 

It's interesting, nay, puzzling how all these marketers emphasize book clubs, as if they can wave their magic wand and convince book clubs to pick a particular book. Where are these phantom clubs? And why can't an author find them on their own, since they seem to be so plentiful? I've actually researched the topic of book clubs (why not?) and no, it just doesn't work that way. Some of them do have Google listings, but one can't simply barge into one and demand they choose your book. 

Linda chose book clubs as her selling point, but other freelance marketers offer other vague services they never quite spell out. Instead, they let flattery do the heavy lifting for them. Because they "like you" so much, you are expected to trust them. 

The guy I referenced in an earlier post, the one who goes by the name of a now-deceased book reviewer, has proven to be very insistent. I believe I've now received four missives from him, which really should count as three, because the most recent one is just a copy and paste of a previous email. It was my mistake, I guess, to reply to him and let him know I'm not marketing Inn Dreams, so now he's changed his focus to New Kaitlyn, my very first novella, from 2022. I don't think I want to block him, because I'm curious to see if he subsequently runs through my other nine books. (By the way, he goes by the name Michael Silverblatt, so watch out for him.)

Linda, unfortunately, will be marked as spam. While I enjoy the ego boost, cloying as it is, I'm just going to accept my fate as a failed author, and hold tight to the few dollars I have left.