This Little Piggy Went to Market: by Jane Thornley

I just launched a new book and it was horrible--not the book, the process. Launching a new book used to be a thrill that naturally followed months of hard work tangled in bouts of magical thinking. This time the entire event fizzled. Actually, it hit me more like a punch in the gut. 

Blame too much marketing. Though the launch itself was no better or worse than any of the previous five times, my response was not—no virtual fireworks, no sense of accomplishment, no kudos, either internally or externally. In fact, I was a mess, sinking into growly misery. For weeks leading up to the launch, I hung a sign on my door warning my friends that I was not suitable for human consumption and, afterwards, I just moaned as I studied my stats. All the joy from what should be for any writer a momentous achievement, simply evaporated. 

And now, weeks later, I finally know why: it's because this little piggy went to market forgetting that it's not all about bringing home the bacon and thus got roasted alive. I tried too hard. I'd been chewing off huge chunks of marketing advice while listening to a legion of experts (and believe me, the experts are proliferating almost as quickly as ebooks on Amazon) until it felt as though I was choking on a giant hairball.

Everyone had suggestions for maximizing a new book’s first days in the world—how to get it noticed, how to get it read. Hit the bestseller list! Make readers buy your book! Multiple gurus are capitalizing on strategies for marketing this or that to indie authors, from Amazon ads to Facebook strategies. These experts promote courses and webinars and newsletters. They chatter away about blurbs and covers and self-promotion. Crow now, write later. 

I bought it all, literally, and crowed my throat raw. I flaunted my book in all venues possible using all the technigues learned. On the advice of one copywriter, I tried his blurb that better describes a comic book character than my protagonist  ("...she scales tall buildings.") while applying the BUY ME NOW labels to all all my ads. Really, it was nauseating. I was nauseating. Why couldn't I market while still being true to my own voice the way I used to? Because I'd amputated that voice in the name of the latest (desperate, competitive) marketing expertise.

Finally, I woke up--I mean, really woke up--and scaled it all back. I couldn't stand myself. It's not that all the gurus are wrong--their suggestions are valid and we are all struggling with the same issues--but that doesn't mean I need to swallow everything whole.  

Now I'm starting to breathe again. The book is doing fine while, more importantly, I'm doing much better. I've regained my equilibrium. I'm back to writing with that old magic and excitement streaming back in. I still market, of course, but more slowly and in a more measured fashion. These days, I apply my brain as the default position and only sprinkle in the advice of others.

And what have I learned, you ask? How about that marketing books is not the same as marketing cornflakes and that this little piggy doesn't have to get singed to bring home the bacon?