Every step in the process of birthing a book has a life of its own:
Imagining the book. Writing the book. Editing the book. Querying the book. Not querying the book. Publishing the book. Celebrating the publishing of the book. Then marketing and promoting the book. And marketing and promoting the book. Still marketing and promoting the book…
I repeat that last one because it seems that once your book has been put out into the world (however it gets there), the relentless demand from that moment forward to promote and market the living hell out of said book is the worst— I mean, the most exhausting, overwhelming, often confusing—part of being an author in the year 2025. Or any year. Ever.
I’ve had four novels published. The first two I self-published (2014 and 2015). The third I hybrid published (2019, She Writes Press). The fourth was published this year by Sibylline Press, a small traditional publisher with a marketing buy-in. I love all four of those books. They truly are like my children; each individual and specific. Each gestated with love and devotion. Each brought into the world with high hopes and unlimited dreams. And each as demanding and unpredictable as any child can be.
My last book, Chick Singer, came out in early April, and since then I’ve been asked innumerable times, “How’s your book doing?” My answer is always the same:
I don’t know.
I don’t know because we’re not yet up to the publisher’s first reporting period. I don’t know because despite enthusiastic responses via texts, emails, private messages, social media, and in person, the book has not accrued many reviews on Amazon or anywhere else (are people just not reviewing books these days or am I being gaslit about “how much I loved it”??). I don’t know because despite my relentless flogging of said book via social media and everywhere else, I see countless other authors and books also getting prodigiously flogged, and how can I compete with that onslaught of excellent books, sparkling authors, inventive promotional events, with then a whole new season of countless more of all that? I don’t know that either.
I can just do … well, me. My book. However I do that. I’ve done it three other times with varying degrees of success, yet, to be honest, I am a tad flummoxed as to how and why results have been somewhat different this go-around. Different time, maybe? Changes in the industry? Readers responding differently after decades of supporting indie authors? Whatever the cause, I still very much want my latest novel to soar and so I adjust and pivot as needed to respond to the changing … whatevers.
One way I’m doing that is by putting aside any “opening weekend” mentality, deciding that, regardless of when the industry determines a book has aged into “backlist title” territory, I’m going to take the entire post-publication year to treat this book like the newbie is it. We don’t deem a one-year-old child to be a has-been, old news, a backlist kid, do we? Even if another child arrives at some point, that year-old entity continues to elicit our passionate love and support; hence, my book of 2025 is going to be treated as a cherished new child until … I dunno, until whenever I decide.
Of course, this doesn’t mean media, bookstores, or reviewers are going to go along with my year-long rollout, but I’m going to do my damnedest to bring them along on the ride. Which means I have to get creative. Be indefatigable. Relentless. Even innovative. We’ll see what I come up with and how it all goes.
As a first step, I’ve pulled another side of my creativity into service: my music. Having been a singer my entire life, including during the wild and wooly ‘80s, it was suggested by a clever bookstore manager that—since Chick Singer revolves around a former ‘80s rock singer suddenly thrust back into the secrets and dreams of that era—it would be a great tie-in to have my band play before and after the book presentation. I was thrilled by the idea, my band worked up shiny new versions of my old ‘80s tunes, and the event was a smashing success. So much so that the store invited us back to play (and for me to present my book again) at a party celebrating their 5th anniversary. I sold more books, there was cake, and people danced … another smashing success.
This kind of innovative promotion seems to me to be a very good idea … if you’ve got a band and a book about rock & roll singers! If you don’t, the idea would be to explore whatever tie-ins make sense for your book. I’m seeing Facebook posts from authors who’ve done just that: a princess-themed party for a romance novel about a princess, environmental speakers at the book event for a novel focused on climate change; poets brought in for a book presentation about a wandering poet. Creative, fascinating, engaging. This is the kind of promotion I like seeing and like doing. I plan to keep my own “creative promotions” going long enough to inspire continuing, increasing traction for Chick Singer.
But, ultimately, publishing a book is much like gift-giving: you do your best to present an absolute top-notch item (your stellar story, buffed, shined, and edited), you wrap it as artfully as possible (gorgeous cover and book design), you offer it with enthusiasm and confidence (“I do hope you like it!”), and then … well, then you let it go. And just as you don’t keep checking if they ever wore that blouse you gifted, or “if you like those earrings I gave you?”, you can’t keep pulse-checking with people who promised to write a review but didn’t, or said they’d buy the book but “keep forgetting,” or promised to suggest it to their book club but haven’t yet. You can only do your best to gently nudge, to promote; to follow-up, follow-through with media resources, and keep exploring new, interesting ways to amplify and shine more light on your work. Then you trust what you’ve put in motion and move on.
But to answer the title question: if I were to hazard a guess about Chick Singer’s reception out in the wide, wide world, based on media reviews, delighted emails, phone calls, texts, social media posts, and bookstore conversations, I’d say it’s been very well received. People have enjoyed it, been moved by it, entertained by it. And that, really, is the most essential goal, isn’t it? Whether we crack that elusive bestseller list, accrue countless reviews, sell bundles, or win awards and kudos from influential people, knowing the ones who bought it and read it “really loved it” … well, that’s gold. That’s the prize. That’s (almost) enough for me.
I’d still like to crack that damn bestseller list someday …
Originally published in Women Writers Women’s Books.
| Rock+Paper+Music | 
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