The Long Uphill Struggle...
A couple of weeks back, I got more than a little exasperated when I read an article did the rounds on Facebook amongst my writer friends. It was an interview with a moderately famous author (can't remember her name, sorry...), whose novel 'There's Something About Kevin' has recently skyrocketed in popularity when it was turned into a film. Anyway, there she was, complaining bitterly because her life had turned into some kind of media circus. How was she supposed to write when she was so busy all the time? Jetting here and there to literary conventions scattered across the globe, judging literary competitions, etc. etc.
Yeah, you get the picture.
I know so many good writers who would dearly love to give up the day job so they could write full time. I'd love to do it myself. But the way things are going in the industry, it's just not possible. So why on earth does someone who has 'made it' have to come out with that kind of nonsense, when the rest of us are struggling gamely on trying to write when we're juggling publicity work along with a nine to five existence.
Over the last couple of weeks, things have really been taking off for me as far as my writing is concerned. I took a couple of days off on annual leave last week, the aim being to try and put some work into my writing. That's a very vague statement, isn't it? 'Put some work into my writing'...
In reality, the four day weekend involved this. Day One: did a bit of editing, designed a poster for a signing and a little publicity leaflet for an event I'm selling books over the next few weeks. Day Two: did a bit of editing, sorted out some issues with a little piece I've submitted to Historical Novels Review for inclusion in the January issue, planned a flyer campaign for Scottish Book Week, researched some independent booksellars, put up a blog entry on my website blog, designed a flyer, read a bit of Machiavelli so I could find a quote for my next novel. Day Three: printed out flyers, posters and the publicity leaflet, did a bit of editing, went out to meet up with my local writers' group. Day Four: headed into Glasgow for Scottish Book Week, did some guerilla leafleting, chatted to a bookseller and a librarian, did a bit of editing. This swallowed up most of my time, though it was quite pleasant to actually have some spare hours where I could dig the garden, plant some bulbs, hang out in the local cafe with J and check out the bookshelves at Oak Furnitureland.
The feeling I'm getting throughout all this akin to that of a salmon trying to reach its spawning ground. By writing your novel and finding a publisher, you've just made it across the Atlantic - bravo!- but hey, don't relax, because now it's time to navigate the river. It's seems easy at first, but suddenly you're in the rapids, and then... Oh look! Somebody's just whacked a hydro-electric scheme in the way and now you're stuck, circling endlessly round as you search for a fish ladder.
Scottish Book Week was a case in point. It's an annual event, ostensibly intended to promote Scottish literature, though what this really means is that it's aimed at promoting Scottish publishers. With the assistance of Hadley Rille Books editor Eric Reynolds and fellow HRB author Harriet Goodchild. who's based in Edinburgh, I embarked upon a campaign of guerilla leafleting at the main venues. This had the unexpected benefit for me in that I managed to bump into the owner of an independent bookshop whom I'd e-mailed her previously, telling her about the book. I'd received no reply, and as I suspected, she was ignoring me. Turns out she gets bombarded with solicitations from authors, most of them self-published, so she just isn't interested in supporting random writers who come in requesting some shelf space in her shop.
Armed with my new found do-or-die author's mindset, I refused to give up. We chatted. About the dire state of the industry. About the difficulties faced by independent presses and independent booksellers. About the new democratization of publishing, brought about through the galloping success of the self-publishing industry. Gradually, I was able to tell her that my title was in possession of the prerequisite needs that she required to consider stocking it. I had stand-out-from-the-crowd cover art. I had an ISBN number. My book was available through a recognised distributor, on a sale or return basis. By the end of the conversation, she'd taken a note of the ISBN number and taken a flyer, so while this doesn't guarantee she'll stock it, I felt I'd achieved some kind a result.
All well and good. Since that time, things have been rumbling along and I think I'm beginning to notice a sea change. My next success was a foray into the North Ayrshire market where my book was received with enthusiasm. 'Oooh!' said the organisers, 'How interesting!' Since the book's set locally, they see it as a historical novel which is personal to them, and therefore, they're keen to read it. Another success was when I managed to arrange an interview with one of the local papers, and perhaps more importantly, succeeded in getting the time off work to attend it (bet that wretched Moaning Minnie of a famous author doesn't have to do THAT any more!!).
Best of all, I found a few tangible indications that all this legwork is beginning to pay off. When I went into my local library on Monday to print some flyers, I met my book, but only briefly. I knew the library had ordered it, but didn't expect it to be wagged under my nose following its return by a local reader. Its rest was brief - it's already been requested by another and so it hasn't even had a chance to get back onto the shelf. And just yesterday, I went into Paisley Library to see if they'd put up a poster for my forthcoming signing in the town. I'd donated a copy to them not long before, so I was hopeful for their agreement. What I didn't expect was to be told, "We don't normally advertise promotions, but since it's you, and since we've recently purchased a few copies of this book for the library, then sure. We can do that." Not only that, I also managed to get some interest amongst the staff who man the gift shop at nearby Paisley Abbey.
Wow.
I'm lucky. I have a Unique Selling Point round these parts. I can put the emphasis on the local history, and I know that'll sell the book, and the devil take anything else. I know it's a darned good story, and a couple of reviews on Amazon are helping to reinforce that point, but I'm not going to make any sales by trailing around the shops saying, "It's a really good book, and you'll love it!" I daresay everyone says that regardless, and the booksellers just aren't interested any more. What I'm hoping is that some day the word will get around and people will start reading it because it's worth it as a piece of literature in its own right, but in the meantime, what I have to do is set small achievable targets and work like hell to get some kind of presence out there.
It's like any kind of business, really. You get what you put into it. But it's something I really love doing because I know all the hard work will eventually be worth it. Whether I ever achieve the Holy Grail of becoming a full time writer is uncertain, but the dream is there, and I'm determined to do my very best to try and chase it.
A fellow HRB writer once welcomed me into the HRB Facebook network with the ominous words, "Welcome aboard, you're in for a wild ride." I jokingly retorted with the line, "A Nantucket sleigh ride, I bet." And to continue the oceanic metaphor, that's quite an appropriate comparison. My novel is like Leviathan. It plots its stately course through uncharted waters, while I hang on for dear life, sole passenger of a little jolly boat that's being dragged relentlessly onwards. It's bumpy alright. It's uncertain and precarious and there's always the fear that the beast will plunge to the depths and take me down with it.
But, oh boy, is it exciting! And even after just a couple of months, I know I wouldn't swap this whole writing lark for anything else in the world!!
Yeah, you get the picture.
I know so many good writers who would dearly love to give up the day job so they could write full time. I'd love to do it myself. But the way things are going in the industry, it's just not possible. So why on earth does someone who has 'made it' have to come out with that kind of nonsense, when the rest of us are struggling gamely on trying to write when we're juggling publicity work along with a nine to five existence.
Over the last couple of weeks, things have really been taking off for me as far as my writing is concerned. I took a couple of days off on annual leave last week, the aim being to try and put some work into my writing. That's a very vague statement, isn't it? 'Put some work into my writing'...
In reality, the four day weekend involved this. Day One: did a bit of editing, designed a poster for a signing and a little publicity leaflet for an event I'm selling books over the next few weeks. Day Two: did a bit of editing, sorted out some issues with a little piece I've submitted to Historical Novels Review for inclusion in the January issue, planned a flyer campaign for Scottish Book Week, researched some independent booksellars, put up a blog entry on my website blog, designed a flyer, read a bit of Machiavelli so I could find a quote for my next novel. Day Three: printed out flyers, posters and the publicity leaflet, did a bit of editing, went out to meet up with my local writers' group. Day Four: headed into Glasgow for Scottish Book Week, did some guerilla leafleting, chatted to a bookseller and a librarian, did a bit of editing. This swallowed up most of my time, though it was quite pleasant to actually have some spare hours where I could dig the garden, plant some bulbs, hang out in the local cafe with J and check out the bookshelves at Oak Furnitureland.
The feeling I'm getting throughout all this akin to that of a salmon trying to reach its spawning ground. By writing your novel and finding a publisher, you've just made it across the Atlantic - bravo!- but hey, don't relax, because now it's time to navigate the river. It's seems easy at first, but suddenly you're in the rapids, and then... Oh look! Somebody's just whacked a hydro-electric scheme in the way and now you're stuck, circling endlessly round as you search for a fish ladder.
Scottish Book Week was a case in point. It's an annual event, ostensibly intended to promote Scottish literature, though what this really means is that it's aimed at promoting Scottish publishers. With the assistance of Hadley Rille Books editor Eric Reynolds and fellow HRB author Harriet Goodchild. who's based in Edinburgh, I embarked upon a campaign of guerilla leafleting at the main venues. This had the unexpected benefit for me in that I managed to bump into the owner of an independent bookshop whom I'd e-mailed her previously, telling her about the book. I'd received no reply, and as I suspected, she was ignoring me. Turns out she gets bombarded with solicitations from authors, most of them self-published, so she just isn't interested in supporting random writers who come in requesting some shelf space in her shop.
Armed with my new found do-or-die author's mindset, I refused to give up. We chatted. About the dire state of the industry. About the difficulties faced by independent presses and independent booksellers. About the new democratization of publishing, brought about through the galloping success of the self-publishing industry. Gradually, I was able to tell her that my title was in possession of the prerequisite needs that she required to consider stocking it. I had stand-out-from-the-crowd cover art. I had an ISBN number. My book was available through a recognised distributor, on a sale or return basis. By the end of the conversation, she'd taken a note of the ISBN number and taken a flyer, so while this doesn't guarantee she'll stock it, I felt I'd achieved some kind a result.
All well and good. Since that time, things have been rumbling along and I think I'm beginning to notice a sea change. My next success was a foray into the North Ayrshire market where my book was received with enthusiasm. 'Oooh!' said the organisers, 'How interesting!' Since the book's set locally, they see it as a historical novel which is personal to them, and therefore, they're keen to read it. Another success was when I managed to arrange an interview with one of the local papers, and perhaps more importantly, succeeded in getting the time off work to attend it (bet that wretched Moaning Minnie of a famous author doesn't have to do THAT any more!!).
Best of all, I found a few tangible indications that all this legwork is beginning to pay off. When I went into my local library on Monday to print some flyers, I met my book, but only briefly. I knew the library had ordered it, but didn't expect it to be wagged under my nose following its return by a local reader. Its rest was brief - it's already been requested by another and so it hasn't even had a chance to get back onto the shelf. And just yesterday, I went into Paisley Library to see if they'd put up a poster for my forthcoming signing in the town. I'd donated a copy to them not long before, so I was hopeful for their agreement. What I didn't expect was to be told, "We don't normally advertise promotions, but since it's you, and since we've recently purchased a few copies of this book for the library, then sure. We can do that." Not only that, I also managed to get some interest amongst the staff who man the gift shop at nearby Paisley Abbey.
Wow.
I'm lucky. I have a Unique Selling Point round these parts. I can put the emphasis on the local history, and I know that'll sell the book, and the devil take anything else. I know it's a darned good story, and a couple of reviews on Amazon are helping to reinforce that point, but I'm not going to make any sales by trailing around the shops saying, "It's a really good book, and you'll love it!" I daresay everyone says that regardless, and the booksellers just aren't interested any more. What I'm hoping is that some day the word will get around and people will start reading it because it's worth it as a piece of literature in its own right, but in the meantime, what I have to do is set small achievable targets and work like hell to get some kind of presence out there.
It's like any kind of business, really. You get what you put into it. But it's something I really love doing because I know all the hard work will eventually be worth it. Whether I ever achieve the Holy Grail of becoming a full time writer is uncertain, but the dream is there, and I'm determined to do my very best to try and chase it.
A fellow HRB writer once welcomed me into the HRB Facebook network with the ominous words, "Welcome aboard, you're in for a wild ride." I jokingly retorted with the line, "A Nantucket sleigh ride, I bet." And to continue the oceanic metaphor, that's quite an appropriate comparison. My novel is like Leviathan. It plots its stately course through uncharted waters, while I hang on for dear life, sole passenger of a little jolly boat that's being dragged relentlessly onwards. It's bumpy alright. It's uncertain and precarious and there's always the fear that the beast will plunge to the depths and take me down with it.
But, oh boy, is it exciting! And even after just a couple of months, I know I wouldn't swap this whole writing lark for anything else in the world!!