What Am I Doing Here?
For the past month, I’ve been in full promotion mode. That means I’m spending hours each day, checking the web for book clubs, online reading groups, and because of the subject matter of LOVE ON THE LINE, answering questions on threads about African American, biracial, and multi-ethnic people at sites like MULTIPLICITY, GENERATION-MIXED, AFRICAN AMERICANS ON THE MOVE BOOK CLUB: AAMBC, among others; sending out my info, writing about whatever I feel I can contribute to on the message boards, and hoping to attract some attention for my new work.
It’s part of being an author.
However, self-promotion can be more daunting than any novel I’m likely to write. It’s hard for me to sell myself. I feel so boastful, so prideful, so like that sweating used-car salesman that hopes you will drive it off the lot before the fenders fall off.
No, I don’t think I wrote a bad book. But I tend to squirm when promoting myself as a wonderful author. Never toot your own horn was a motto at my house, growing up. But the truth is, no one has time to beat a path to anyone’s door for that better mousetrap. You’ve got to bring the trap
,
the mice,
and the cheese
to the marketplace, and then stage a eye-catching dog and pon– uh, a mouse-and-cheese-trap show to get any attention.
Maybe, like 
Beyonce, I need to develop a Sasha Fierce alternate personality to go on stage, or in my case online. Let’s see, Lara Literate? No, sounds too librarian strict. LaLa Hemingway? Laura Austin? . Maybe just La Muse.
If my editors or publisher are reading, know that I looooove to be out there promoting. Writing about ‘me’ is hard. But talking about my stories, my characters, my inspiration? Love it! Will go anywhere, anytime. Give me the chance. La Muse is in the house!
But this week I’m back to my first love: writing!
At least that was the plan…
It takes no time at all to be come rusty as a writer. Oh, the ideas come — thank you, da Muse — but that doesn’t translate into readable entertaining prose. How to phrase that idea so it sounds like something topical, different but with a ready audience, something that will catch the attention of a busy editor who,by the time she reaches for my proposal, has already read in any given week more ideas than I’m likely to have all year.
I struggle. I weep. I moan. I evade. I eat carrot sticks and pickles. I give up and watch an old movie. But, gradually, after typing a lot of poor prose, slowly out of the leap of innate lettering comes the spark of a way to present my idea.
IT’S FRIDAY! I’m almost done! Upload by Monday morning to agent. Then I go back to tackling THE CHAPTERS. Stay tuned. I’ll post my synopsis when — can’t think if — my agent likes it. This is a high-wire act here. If I crash and burn you’ll be the first to know.
Psst. Wish me luck!
March 9th, 2009 at 2:53 pm
I had a writing prof who said “Who tooteth not his own horn, said horn goeth untooted.”
March 9th, 2009 at 3:00 pm
Ah, ye ole squeaky wheel theory. It’s the truth. Thanks for dropping by!