It's hard out here for a pimp. Writing a book takes a certain set of skills: intense concentration, imagination, the ability to read the same 400 pages time after time, and the fortitude to take criticism (excuse me, ahem, critique) without weeping. You must learn to shut out all noise at a given moment and you must love solitude.
Getting your book in reader's hands requires the opposite: Writing in 140 character sound bites, talking about oneself while sounding modest, balancing online ME ME ME without having REGO (readers eyes glaze over) or worse, RSOY (readers sick of you.)
Anyone who had read the hysterical, but frighteningly close to the truth, New Yorker piece on promotion knows how much falls on the writer these days. (Surprisingly few readers know this: at a recent book club, members were shocked to learn writers did their own promotion.) Even if one has great and supportive publicists (which I do) it's usually on the writer to get that book read.
"You have to sell it one book at a time," I was warned.
How was I supposed to do that? In terror, I read every book I could find (thus buying their books), listened to experienced writers, attended forums on promotion, jumped from one online site to another, lurked in online forums, came out of the closet and wrote sad plaintive pleas on same forums: in short, I gave myself a cheap fast masters in SMB (selling my book.)
The problem is this: except for the most ego-driven or ego-protected among us, it's an unnatural position for most writers. We like working in pajamas. We like watching sentences unfold as ideas unfurl. We don't like shaking our booties.
But we must.
This is the uncomfortable truth. If you want to follow your fantasy of writing and publishing, then you gotta shake that booty. You must learn how to sell without appearing crazed-because nobody likes the snake oil man. You must swallow your pride and put it out there-Look, I wrote a book! Want to buy it? -without coming across as greedy.
None of us succeed all the time. Just yesterday I got an email from the moderator of an online alumni group to which I belong. I'd sent out a group email inviting members to a reading I'd be giving in NYC, and received this squirm-inducing scold:
Usually I try not to use the XYZ Group for personal promotion.
Please refrain in the future.
Shame overcame me as my self-image went from energetic-information-sharer to self-promoting-hussy. I imagined all the whispers in the online hallways: Who does she think she is? God, enough, already. Will she ever shut up about that damn book?
But they said I have to! I whine.
Yeah. It's hard out there for a pimp.
But, I remind myself: this was my dream. Suck it up, self. So here's my advice for writer-friends and my pleas to reader-friends:
Readers: Forgive us each day our daily shilling. It's the only game in town these days. And if you have it in your hearts, and you like our books, please pass the word along.
Writers: Find a launch buddy or two. Or three. Someone with whom you can be as whiny and self-pitying as you need, someone who won't judge you for it. BFF launch sisters. Make sure it's someone you can truly root for and who will totally root for you. Know that sometimes she'll be ahead of you. That's okay-keep rooting. That's what sisters do for each other.
About Randy Susan
Causes Randy Susan Meyers Supports
Women for Women
New England Home for Little Wanderers