Most of the fiction writers I know would rather work on new material than spend their energy promoting completed projects. I’ve had agents; I’ve had publishers, and I’ve generated material independently, but no matter how my stories went public, they all require that I keep doing the chicken dance (imagine arm-flapping, squawking, and other anti-social behaviors) in the hope that readers will find them.
And, just so you know, the chicken dance is tiring. It might not be if I were any good it. But despite reading countless “How-To” articles on self-promotion and agonizing over a useful definition of my target market, I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t be smarter to invest in lottery tickets on the off chance that I’d win big and be able to afford to hire a public relations agency to go out and honk my horn for me.
But then I’d worry about blasting out some poor schlub’s eardrums and thereby earning his or her eternal enmity.
If only I could get away with just saying something like: Hi! Would you please give one of my books a try? Resurrection Blues would be a great place to start. You’ll have a good time, I promise. Lots of oddball characters, some interesting history, a respectable volume of laughs, and a plot that hasn’t been done to death. What more could a reader want?
But that never seems to be enough. Wait! Maybe I can find a recorded version of a “How To” article. That way I can listen to it while I drive to the convenience store to buy my Lotto ticket/Potential PR campaign.