Marketing is not a word I care for. It is rather like networking, both in sound and sense. The words connote hearty handshakes and toothy grins, neither of which had any relevance to my original compulsion to write Tracing Paradise. Yet here I am, after publication, grinning and vigorously shaking hands with a Willy Loman fatal desperation. Will anyone review this book? Will anyone buy this book? Must keep trying, must keep trying.
Begging letters to reviewers, a Facebook fan page: does any of this really make any difference? I really don't know, but the sense of desperation that arises doesn't seem especially wholesome. In truth, this book has already sold far better than my previous one and has garnered a sheaf of personal accolades from readers. And as I was writing the memoir, this was exactly the communication I was imagining. Yet in the "larger" picture, the book has thus far garnered nothing.
The problem is that this so-called "larger" picture looms like an indistinct palace. No doubt when one arrives there, the palace reveals itself as a Mussolini-style office building or a prefab hurricane shelter. But that knowledge doesn't seem to influence my anxiety about never setting foot inside the door.
2 comments:
I know you read Charlotte's blog from time to time. Currently she is finding her new book Woman hidden away on shelves, but not in "New Releases". These !!!! are mine as I'm loving it. I was tempted to simply move the copies myself to the new table!!!
I look forward to reading her book, but the bookstore hasn't sent it to me yet. Yes, maybe you ought to take things into your own hands and move it to the "New Release" table. Guerilla bookstore patrons. What a good idea.
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