I gotta start off with a disclaimer: Despite all my aspirations otherwise, I am not a professional writer. (At least, not yet. Maybe. One day.)
But I do have a novel!
Books from new/unknown authors very rarely sell themselves, especially if you don’t have a publisher. Which I don’t. (Subtle hint for any publishers looking for new authors. Just sayin’…) That means you have to do your own self-promotion.
Now lest ye think “hey, Geoff’s been in marketing for ages, he’ll be great at this!”, I might offer/remind you that I wasn’t in this to make money. I was delighted to have sold a single book. (As it happens, I have a single review on Goodreads, and I haven’t a clue who it’s from.) I’ve sold a few more than that (30, I think?, not counting Kindle Unlimited reads). So if you were to ask me if I’m happy with the result, the answer is “yes”.
But.
It’s also a good idea to promote the work. Even if it’s just a “learn how to do it well” approach, heavens forbid that I might actually write more (spoiler alert: I am) and might want to push that one a bit harder.
This is what led me to reach out to local bookstore, Owl’s Nest. They have a consignment program where you can “give” them a stack of books that they’ll sell on your behalf, and you get a percentage of the proceeds. (This is why local bookstores are awesome, folks. Can’t do that at your big box stores…)
The catch – there’s always a catch – is that you’re still on the hook for promotion. You might have gone through the effort of creating a great cover and maybe that’s enough to sell a copy or two, but really you need to promote it. And one of the best (local) ways is a reading: standing in front of a bunch of (potential) strangers to talk about yourself, your path to that point, and read a few minutes of the work.
Insert sheer terror, here.
Months ago, back in October, when the book first came out, Monkey (more or less) forced me to have a book launch party around (Canadian) Thanksgiving. She had a bunch of friends over and there was an expectation of a reading. My in-laws were out from the coast and were pushing for the same. But I couldn’t do it.
It was the first time I felt this particular kind of terror. It wasn’t about competency (can I do a thing) – that’s something I’ve known most of my career (half is “I don’t know” and the other half remains the lingering Imposter Syndrome), and it wasn’t about public speaking (besides, I knew these people, most of whom I had abused in a D&D campaign over the previous year).
This was something new: I had completed a work of … well, not “art”, but of the arts. Sure, I’ve got a site full of my photography, but I don’t flog any of that (despite Alex repeatedly telling me that I should), nor do I really expect anything other than “oh, that’s a nice picture”. But a book? A full-length novel, with characters and plots and scenes of action and dialogue? All those voices in my head that are now bare on a page, open for criticism?
Okay, I wasn’t truly worried about the criticism. At least, not at the time. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a piece of my soul, codified into a 318 page novel. I didn’t realize it at the time, but somewhere deep inside, my soul was screaming.
Tonight was Book Launch, For Reals.
Owl’s Nest closes at 5:30pm most days. But on this night (and other nights of events), it reopens at 7pm. I walked in with Choo Choo and Monkey – my deeply loved, cherished children and assistants for the night – with our boxes of cookies, a serving platter, and a few extra books I had at home, to find that the store had been rearranged.
Colour me surprised. A book on its own isn’t that heavy. A full bookshelf, on the other hand, is no laughing matter. And yet, the centre of the store had been cleared out and filled with a set of folding chairs. Owl’s Nest’s bookshelves have wheels.
Sarah, Owl’s Nest’s Events Manager, was waiting for us. A fellow writer, she knew the value of these events for writers trying to get themselves going. We chatted a bit while we waited for people to arrive; the girls perused the bookshelves.
Owl’s Nest had set up the event and I had promoted it to the best of my abilities: post it all over the place and tell everyone I knew. All I could do is hope a few people showed up. Sarah told me that sometimes, no-one shows up. Eeep.
But leave it to family and friends to make up the difference. Mom and Brenda came, as did Teak (who thought he was late) and Adrian. Some of Monkey’s friends also came, which was fantastic. It was a small group, but it was still good enough.
Sarah introduced me and I took the proverbial stage to people who already knew who I was. A bit odd, yes, but I was just happy to have people there. I gave a short blurb about how the story came to be, then read about five minutes from the book.
I had practiced the reading, too. I even printed out specific sheets, which I marked up with inflections, pauses, volumes, and anything else I felt was necessary to get across the emotion of the portion of the story I was trying to convey. I couldn’t even read an entire chapter – it’s more than five minutes. Well, more than five minutes of reasonable reading. I could absolutely blitz through it, but it would be a speed read, missing all the nuance.
I’m no Stuart Mclean, though. That was decades of training and practice. Maybe one day. Maybe.
Even though it was friends and family, it was a good session, at least for me. Maybe on the next book launch, I’ll have more of a following. Maybe.
