Oh, it’s that time… book release is scheduled, cover is amazing and now off to market I go. There are a hundred different avenues I need to go down, and yet I sit in front of my computer (the best purchase I have ever made) and stare at Twitter and Facebook like they are written in French. Ugh. And I look at YouTube like it is some religious deity, watching video after video trailer for books I am dying to read. And still, I got nothin’. And a whole lot of it.
My book is written. That’s the hard part, right? Nope. The hard part is selling it, convincing my loyal friends and people I’ve never met that what I have to say is worthy enough to part them from their hard earned dollars. But how? Is a book trailer enough? Repeated posts on FB and Twitter tweets galore? A website? Blurbs? Do I harass folks for reviews I am not wealthy enough to afford? Hmm.
To be successful, I am going to have to pull out all the stops. Harassment, bombardment, wheedling and begging. Yep. I’m going with my strengths. But first, a shameless plug for my publisher and my book (you know, in case someone wants to know what the book is about and where to get it!).
Decadent Publishing put out a call for fairytales. It sounded amazing! Heck yeah! So I contacted them at email@example.com and requested my fairytale. The Goose Girl at the Pond. Huh? I know/knew of five fairy tales – the tried and true princesses which have graced every little girl’s wish list. Who the heck was this goose girl and why, oh why, was her name not Cinderella?
Yet, that was my task. So I wrote it. And I wrote the crap out of it. I gave her a name and a lifestyle to which she had grown accustomed – the life of a wealthy girl who lived off her parents until a bottle of forty year old, single malt Scotch and her father’s Porsche get into an altercation and take out the garage door. Ho-hum. In an act of desperation, her mother, the formidable Publishing queen, sends her daughter to live with her grandmother – a sex potion making old woman who raises geese and lives without the comforts of electricity and running water. Add in a pretty boy neighbor who has more muscle and sex appeal than anyone else Becca has ever met and she is flopping like a fish out of water.
Of course, there is romance. And the occasional gurgle of laughter as Becca learns to muck the stalls and feed the geese without getting her butt nipped at every step. There is the charming and present Nicodemus, the storyteller, and there is an interlude between Grandma and her feather duster wielding friend. And of course, as in all fairy tales, there is a happily ever after, though not always the one we might expect.
Story finished. Moving onto the marketing. Blog entry. Check. Facebook Post. Check. Tweet. Check. Trailer? Working on it. What’s left? Doing it all again tomorrow and every day after until I am fabulously rich and famous. Turns out, writing the story was the easy part.