It is that time of my published life when I ask for reviews.
All of us writers do that, don’t we?
How does it make you feel? Honestly?
Well I think that many writers, and I did not say ALL, are not very in your face BUY MY BOOK( though twitter is full of that, me included) sorts of people. Which is why they write in the first place. They are quiet, they have too much to say. They are simmering. Almost reptilian, if you ask me. They sit and bask in the sun all day, and say nothing- they observe ridiculous things- like the length of shadows, or a bead of perspiration coursing down someone’s forehead or elsewhere.
Then they write it all down.
After writing it down and getting it OUT THERE, as in a book, it is there turn to TALK,SCREAM, YELL about how they did it. This is defined as self-promotion. Every writer with a book out owes it to herself or himself to talk about the BOOK. Nothing wrong with that.
What is strange is asking people you know, friends and family, to BUY your book and feel all the worse for it. You understand what the frustrated salesperson feels when she knocks at your door with a sullen smile and wares that you do not need.
You think it is alright- maybe they will read. Of course they will, once you get that superb review….and then the frustrated writer waits for the Make it or Break it review that will send sales through the roof.
Maybe. Who knows?
On that note, a poem(I’ve been reading McGough and loved his sense of rhyme, so dare I try?)….
Give me five stars or four and half
Three is fair, I don’t care
Do as you will- am yours to kill
Or ignore, has happened before
Of course it has, that time when I read you Donne
Or told you about horrific King
Silly thing you said, with your nose in your books
And your eyes on ink, the world is living
And look at you. Tut tut tut in a rut
Get out and explore, open the bloody door
Come outside and see the world you choose to flee
But outside tis the same, the people in their games
The rats in their race. I will write a book that you can like
or strike off. Deflate my ego, it must be gone anyway
You- the mountain I climbed, take it away that sense of self
The me that sits on your bookshelf
Tear her apart, pull her down, teach her a lesson of the highest crown
So that the next time she puts her finger to the key
She won’t dare appear in any guise, except surprise surprise
Five star and a half, no gaffe please!
Which brings me to the obvious- my ebook, a paranormal romance ‘Unsettled’ is out at the Indireads Store. I look forward to your feedback and reviews, most of all your encouragement: http://www.indireads.com/unsettled/