Journal logo

Larry Rodness

How To Market Your Book

By Larry RodnessPublished 3 years ago 8 min read
Like

As writers we believe the hardest part of the journey is putting pen to paper and writing the story. Next, we need to find a publisher. Once that is done, we hope to be able sit back and reap the rewards of our labors. But these days, the work continues because for most writers, we still have to market our books to the public. The tried and true methods (pre-pandemic) were a combination of marketing strategies found on a host of Google pages. But sometimes it takes a 'novel' approach. This was mine and you are welcome to use it.

After five years of stomach-churning, self-flagellating, eye-poking toil my second novel was finally published. That’s when the real work began. When you’re in the hands of a major publishing house most of the marketing and promotion is done for you. My book, however, was bravely published by a small independent from Kentucky which meant most of the promotion was left to me. That included everything from seeking reviews from newspaper columnists and online bloggers to begging for author appearances and book signings at local retail outlets. My first lesson in marketing came when I contacted a book reviewer from one of our city’s major newspapers. His initial question to me was, “Is this the great Canadian novel?”

“Ummm...” I answered. (Writers are notoriously self-doubting.) He continued to explain the reason for his opening salvo. “I get 400 requests a week, five or six of which I’ll agree to read. So why would I read yours? It would have to be a major opus or have a pretty strong hook for me to pick it up.” I had neither a ready answer nor a killer hook for him.

After a few more calls and as many rejections I decided to put the newspaper review aspect on the backburner and concentrate on book signings. Fortunately, I had made some inroads with a major chain two years ago and was able to arrange author appearances for my first novel in a number of their stores. Thus, I felt confident that my previous track record would give my second effort easier access. And I was right.

“Great cover,” said the store manager when I showed him my most recent work. “Interesting synopsis on the back too, should really appeal to our YA demographic. We’d love to have you in again.”

Perfect, I thought, on my way. Authors may dream of fabulous wealth, notoriety, but more importantly, we seek confirmation that what we have put down on paper is not complete drivel. Now there are certainly those who have succeeded, but practically speaking, most of us don’t bank on it. We write because we are possessed to write. Or maybe obsessed. I’m not sure of the clinical difference but my shrink is. In any case, the dream comes with the territory. So as the manager consulted his calendar, visions of prestigious book awards, movie options, and Oprah bestseller recommendations danced in my head. A few minutes later, a date for my upcoming appearance was agreed upon. He handed me the standard store contract and I walked away happily – until I worked out the arithmetic. Between the cost of my first book paid to my publisher and the cut the store took, I was left with a $2.00 profit. This time around, however, the cost of my book was $4.00 more than the previous. The store demanded the same cut as before and the retail price of a soft cover could not be increased due to the current economic conditions. So by the time a customer walked out with my personally-signed masterpiece, not only would I not make a cent but according to the financial paradigm it would cost me $1.00 for every book sold. Oh well, I justified the exercise as a loss-leader necessary to get my book onto the shelves of the retail giant. Thank God for the day job.

As I left the store to drown my sorrows in an overpriced latte I was surrounded by three burly security guards.

“Would you come this way, sir?”

I asked what the problem was, but no answer was forthcoming. That’s when I realized they must have assumed that the book tucked under my arm had been stolen from the store I just exited.

“Uh, guys, you’re making a mistake.” I presented my tome proudly and proclaimed, “This is my book.”

The only response was a persistent tug at my arm as they continued to lead me back into the store. Things were getting a little tense as people turned to point and stare.

“I didn’t steal it. Look,” I said.

I opened the book and flipped to the back page where the author’s picture and bio is traditionally printed.

“See? That’s me.”

The A Team looked at the picture and then looked at me. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t steal it from the store."

Objectively speaking, he may have been right. But I was far from being objective. This was a local mall and some of the witnesses might very well be people who knew me. Not a good position for a budding author or a family man to be in. Now, not only did I have to prove my innocence to the young praetorians, but to the entire gathering. Sweat from my armpits began to soak my shirt. The more I objected, the more people took notice. The guards closed ranks around me and hustled me back into the shop. My mind raced, searching frantically for a way out of my predicament. I remembered my first book signing and the joy of scribbling my name on the front page. I would watch the eager reader smile and head toward the cashier. That’s when I remembered the sticker that was applied to each of my novels so that it could be scanned into their system and sold.

“Look, look at the back cover!” I said to anyone who would listen. “Every store has to have a bar code on their products to ring through their cash, don’t they? See? No bar code on this book. My book.”

The members of the black guard remained inflexible. With all the zeal of an over-sized high school bully their leader said, “Sir, if you don’t come with us right now...”

“Excuse me”, said an entirely different voice.

It belonged to the store manager I had met fifteen minutes ago. Apparently one of the sales staff witnessed the disturbance out in the mall. She told another staff member who told another until it finally got back to the manager. With an ebullient smile, the gentleman explained that I was telling the truth – the book did indeed belong to me and I had brought it along to present to him to discuss an author appearance. Homeland Security finally relented and let me go. While rivulets of perspiration pooled around my waistband I smiled bravely at the crowd of onlookers who seemed upset that their lunch break melodrama hadn't ended with a shootout and a neat story to tell the grandchildren.

“Sorry about that,” the manager continued. “I look forward to seeing you at your author appearance.”

I shook his hand and summoned whatever dignity hadn’t yet dribbled down my pant leg. I considered going for that coffee, not to drown my sorrows, but to drown myself. That’s when the miracle happened. A woman who had witnessed the incident approached.

“Excuse me. How much for the book?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a story about...”

“I don’t care what it’s about. I just wanna know much?”

“It, uh, it normally sells for $20.00,” I answered sheepishly.

“I’ll take one.” She pulled a twenty from her purse and gave it to me right then and there.

“And sign it for me too? My name is Lois.”

“Sure, Lois. The uh, synopsis is on the back if you...”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I was wrong. The grandchildren would have a story tonight.

‘Best wishes to my newest fan, Lois’, I wrote. Wow, sold a book and didn’t have to pay the retailer a cent.

“Do you have any more with you?” asked another person.

Unfortunately, I had only brought the one book and had to disappoint the gentleman. But the idea had taken root. The following week I went to a different mall and brought a dozen books. I orchestrated the same scenario - met with the store manager, talked about a personal appearance, and left. Again, security guards appeared, a crowd gathered, I explained my presence, and was let go. But this time, I ended up selling all 12 books to all the witnesses of the incident. The following week I repeated my plan at yet another mall and that’s when I hit the jackpot – I was arrested!

When the police were summoned and realized the mistake the mall cops made, one of them was so amused that he mentioned it to a friend of his at a local newspaper. The reporter wrote a story about it which appeared the following day in his paper. Scores of people read the column and saw an accompanying picture of me with my novel in hand. One of them was the book reviewer from the newspaper who originally rejected me a couple of weeks ago. He contacted me and asked to read my novel. I had finally furnished him with the hook he needed. Shortly after, he wrote a favorable review along with the now notorious tale of how I had come to his attention. His byline was syndicated and ran in all the major papers across the country. Readers were so intrigued that they Googled me and bought my novel online, making me one of the top favorites on Amazon. The notoriety wasn’t lost on the retail giant, who, always eager for an angle, cashed in on the free publicity and featured my book in their store windows. Now I'm not sure which to start next - my new novel or a marketing plan to top this one.

how to
Like

About the Creator

Larry Rodness

Professional singer and musician for 40 years. Published writer since 2010.

Published novels at:

www.larryrodness.com

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.