Well, My Talent for Complaining Paid Off

I like nudging things along, if I can. There's really a psychology to doing it, which doesn't make me a "manipulator". In fact, I'm quite easy-going in real life. But sometimes in business, one is forced to employ a PSYOP; i.e., using communication to influence emotions, motives, beliefs, and behavior of targeted groups or individuals, aiming to support specific objectives.

If I stew about something long enough, even if it's something inconsequential, I feel obligated to take action. The inconsequential thing in this instance was a promised (free) interview for a "magazine". Just enough background to not bore you to death: The magazine, based in the UK, is real, although no civilian (non-author) actually buys it, or if they do, they have to be really desperate for reading material and flush with cash. It is sold online through Barnes & Noble and perhaps a few other retailers at a hefty price--$32.99 (!) What the magazine is, in reality, is a lure to snag authors into purchasing the edition in which they are featured.

When I was first approached by them, I was all set to delete their email, but I instead checked Writer Beware to see if the blog had ever written about them. Sure enough. I read the article and...okay, fine; my curiosity was sated. But a few of the commenters had noted that their interviews had, in fact, been published, and they agreed that they were useful for purposes such as social media and author website content. As you know, I can use all the free publicity I can scrounge up, so I agreed to the interview. I knew from the article's comments that I wouldn't see my interview online for about a month.

Time went by, and I finally remembered to check the magazine's website. Nope, my interview wasn't there. Lots of others were there, but not mine. So I waited some more. I would check the site from time to time and find new interviews posted. Where the hell was mine? Finally, I pulled up my contact and emailed her. "Oh, your interview is with the editor right now." Is the editor still living? Is he comatose? How long can it take to slap a couple of boilerplate paragraphs onto my interview responses? (Yes, all the articles are basically the same.) I was starting to develop a complex. I thought my answers were quite good, so why did they hate them? 

I didn't necessarily forget about the situation, but life went on. I worked on putting together my anthology and I began preparing one of my old novels for a paperback edition. Still, the whole thing nagged at me. So, yesterday I went back to the Writer Beware article. I didn't know what I hoped to find; maybe new commenters complaining that their interviews, like mine, were never published. If so, I wouldn't feel like such a loser. 

What I did find instead was a haughty response from the magazine's publisher, just posted on December 3, defending his publication--how his only goal is to help authors, blah blah blah. So I took the opportunity to respond to his post:

"Except you’re already soliciting me for money, and you never even published my *free* interview, even though I inquired about it. That shows bad faith. Who knows? If I’d been impressed with my interview, I might have explored your options. I won’t now." 

(Okay, I had no intentions of "exploring his options", but hey...)

You'll never guess what happened next.

I promptly received an email with the mockup of my interview attached. It was kismet, I bet. 😏 Well, the mockup looks fine. I hate my photo, but you know, what was I gonna do? Include an image of the real me or an Aragon AI enhanced pic of me from 20 years ago? Despite the fact that the magazine has no actual readers, I still don't want to be portrayed as "that geriatric writer". 

It was fun to read that I'm an award-winning author. I learned something about myself I didn't know! I wonder which award I won, and why no one bothered to inform me. But as I said, all the words accompanying each interview are boilerplate, so everyone is an award-winning author. You know, now that I think about it, I did score a couple of blue ribbons in my grade school track and field day competition. Then there's that time I...okay, there is no other time.

Since the mockup required my approval, which I granted, it'll take a few days, probably, to see my interview posted online.  

The moral of this story is, go ahead and let your bitch flag fly. Take advantage of opportunities to do so, as they arise. What I don't make in sales, I've gained in my new-found reputation.