There are times when I’m totally resentful of the way I’m supposed to march cheerfully into the book-selling jungle, like a Girl Scout, and machete away all the indifference that stands between my book and best-sellerdom. I admire the rectitude of a J.D. Salinger. I’d like to reclaim the dignity of being a person of letters, instead of tap-dancing into a room like some goddamn soap salesman.
And then there are the other times, when I go on VistaPrint.com and start mocking up “Cars from a Marriage” keychains. (Too expensive.)
In the beginning of February, I started a Facebook fan page for myself, which has been joined by a bunch of people being nice to me. I’m trying to whip up a frenzy of anticipation for my book by dropping little conversational hints (how ’bout them Toyota accelerators?) but there’s dead silence. My friend Pam Satran does a brilliant job of this over at her fan page for “How Not to Act Old.” Am I just stupid at this, or is it subject matter?
Last night, I got the brilliant idea to buy a Facebook ad to promote my Facebook page. It’s pretty low-risk. I set a budget of $1.50 a day, agreeing to pay Facebook a few pennies for every thousand times the ad was seen. I even memorized the number of members of my fan page before I bought the ad: 166. Today, 10,118 impressions later and $1.50 poorer, my Facebook page is up to a whopping … 166 members.
Maybe when some reviews start coming in (there’s a nice one coming out in Booklist on April 1) I’ll have something meaningful to say to my “fans.”
Or maybe I should just start marketing the book for its practical attributes:
- A cure for insomnia!
- Hardcover version works as a paperweight in breezy rooms!
- Good for smashing large bugs!