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Many aspects of book promotion smell like turpentine to me. Whenever I post on Facebook or Instagram and say, “Look at me!” I hate it. The fact that few people actually look makes it even worse. Thank goodness for everyone’s favorite behemoth called Amazon, where my book can look bright and shiny, and my job is like the mechanisms of a clock, hidden underneath but wound and moving. I can let the clock wind down and stop or put a few dollars and mental calculations into keywords for advertising. What would I do if Amazon only meant a river and a rainforest? I was surprised to read about how Mark Twain sold his books last month.
Back then, all of Mark Twain’s major books were issued by subscription and sold by salesmen door-to-door rather than as trade publications in bookstores. As an Indie author or any author, it can be hard to discover your masterpiece in a brick-and-mortar store. What would I do if I had to sell my novel door to door?
Knock, knock.
I wait several minutes, listening to feet scampering behind the bright blue door before me. Over the hedges of the house, an angry face peeks through the window pane, then vanishes. I hear garbled swearing, and then the front door opens.
Who’s there?
My stomach flip-flops, and my spine straightens. I try to imagine I’m Leonidas from the movie 300, except wearing a leather skirt and boob armor. I raise my book. “Would you like to buy my paranormal sci-fi book, The Levitation Game? It’s an entertaining book filled with romance, magic and adventure.”
“Does it come with Girl Scout cookies?”
“No, but I can sign it and throw in a bookmark.”
“Will you mow my lawn if I buy it?”
My hand falls to my side, and I turn away. “Thanks anyway,” I mumble to my feet, wondering if I should take the shortcut to the next house, like the mailman, or walk to the sidewalk.
Knock, knock.
I have big news this month. I’m a finalist in the 2023 Indies Book of the Year awards! Yay! Hooray!
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