My disastrous marketing journey
Chapter 1–The Guilty pleasure of a sports mom
“Congratulations”, “Publishing a book. What an accomplishment”, “Good for you” all praises I haven’t heard because I’ve told no one about my book.
Why?
Cause I’m terrified to share that part of myself.
At a glance, I’m the sporty chick. All appearances, I assure you. I rock the yoga pants and sweatshirt, but I’m as coordinated as a sumo wrestler doing ballet on ice skates. If the bench was a position in any sport, I’d win MVP. My kids, though, are all-star athletes (didn’t take after my gene pool) and I had to learn their sports, attend all their practices and games surrounded by dads as we talked about, you guessed it, sports. But when the kids are in bed and I replace yoga pants with flannel jammies, curled up on the couch I get to indulge in my guilty pleasure, romance. Either a romance book, movie, tv or anything that makes me feel all warm and gooey like soft chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.
There are less than the number of digits on one hand who know about my romance obsession and those who do always encourage me to write. I smile politely and change the topic as a true introvert that I am when placed at the center of attention. One day curled on the comfy couch, tea filling my insides with warmth until my show replaced its steam, but instead of my heart swelling, it broke. The love interests in a show I invested nine seasons in never coupled, or got their happily ever after. Devastated and eager for a different ending, I went out and searched for one. Libraries, bookstores, fan fiction, but I couldn’t find it.
Google, being able to read my mind, posted a quote ‘If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.’-Toni Morrison.
COVID hit, and I had an abundance of time and a lack of TV, so I wrote. I wrote the story that I grieved and longed to read. An Immortal Sacrifice was born, as was my publishing journey.
Chapter 2 - More powerful than Superman on a planet with three suns.
Months invested in the lives of the characters I created. Through every word I learned about their likes, dislikes, who they are and who I am. Enraptured in the world of my imagination and the power I possess within my fingertips. What will I make Kalum say? Do? or how can I make him suffer. Within my word document I was the ultimate being with complete control of the lives of my characters, and for moments lose myself in this new romantic adventure. It was intoxicating, frustrating, and freeing. When it finished, and the void filled, another cavern replaced it. This skin crawling, stomach knotting, need to share.
The only one who would appreciate it, who is nearly as obsessed as me on romance, is my sister. She finished it and wanted more.
Would not accept the end of the story. An Immortal Sacrifice needed an audience. It needed to be read, and we set out to get it published. If the disappointment of that devastating show propelled me to writing my story, the beta reader tearing it apart set the thrusters into over-drive and motivated me to get the book published.
I went to Pinterest, blog posts and fiction writing books to study to get my book to completion. After a hundred rejections, ten drafts, three beta readers, I got one offer letter from Koehler Publishing. I did it. In your face, beta reader. My story is going to be read. People are going to know I’m a romance fanatic who wrote her own romantic comedy book, and now I get the joy of telling people.
Ahh Crap.
Chapter 3 – The path to the dream is through Hell
Okay, okay, calm down. It’s not that bad. So, what if all your friends will know you have an unhealthy obsession with romance? Or you’re at the center of attention with everyone asking you questions about your urban fantasy love story? Oh lord, this is my living nightmare. To make a dream a reality, I have to walk through Hell.
Is it too late to back out, call up the publisher and say just kidding? Maybe I could if my sister had any sense of how I was feeling. It was like we were on two different paths; hers lined with marshmallows and sunshine while I walked on a river of molten lava. She told everyone she knew before virtual ink dried on the PDF. Even people she didn’t know, on the bus “Hey, my sister wrote a book An Immortal Sacrifice, check it out.”, at the bar to our server, “What are you doing June 2022? Reading An Immortal Sacrifice. That’s what.” Or even interrupting people’s dinner conversations to pitch the book. While I excused myself to find a hole to hide myself in. How am I going to endure nine months of this attention?
And then it hit me. I won’t, but my alias will.
Denise Summers
Chapter 4 - Choppy waters
The publisher recommended the first four months into the contract to promote my book and gain an audience. Build a website and let people know about it. I wasn’t one for social media. Asking people to be my friend, selfies and bragging about myself is my nightmare, but then I delved into it.
At first, I was the quiet mousy voice in social media that would make posts “I have a book” a whisper compared to the flashy booming voices of the other authors. It felt like an impossible hurdle to be heard, and it didn’t sit right. This isn’t me. So, my sister took over promoting. With her loud exuberance she got heard through the sea of social media all while I stepped back and watched.
If I’m on the same boat with all these Indy romance authors, why are they jumping off and swimming on their own? Why can’t we steer the ship together to promote our books instead of going at it alone? And that’s when it hit me.
Rom-Com unity.
Forget about telling people about my book. Instead, I’ll help promote others. This felt right to me. That pit in my stomach, often confused with indigestion, was giving a thumbs up. And I set out to revamp my website while my sister continued to shout through social media.
Will it work? To promote my book by not talking about? I guess we’re going to find out.
