Well, this is awkward (but shouldn't be)
With just a little over four months until Normal Broken hits book shelves and mailboxes, marketing, aka the hustle, is revving up and my self-doubt and anxiety are tagging along for the ride. Self-promotion is sooo awkward, but why? Why does it feel so weird to tell people I wrote a book, that I hope they buy it and to please tell others about it? My emotional over-analyzation has broken it down to two main factors:
The first is that self-promotion requires me to ask others for help and while I have no issue asking for help when it comes to my children, carpooling, childcare etc., or asking for donations for a fundraiser - asking for personal help, especially when money is involved, is excruciating.
Then there is this tidbit that at some point was ingrained in my subconscious: good people are humble, bragging is bad. Maybe this was a recurring theme on children’s television in the 80’s or at the very least a Berenstain Bears book: don’t call people names, don’t lie, sharing is caring and don’t be full of yourself. But there must be a line between bragging and healthy pride, right? Where you’re not annoying to other people but can still share an accomplishment you’re proud of and then ask them for help promoting it? Ugh, I can feel my stomach turn already.
Cuz here’s the thing, I AM proud of this book and I REALLY want it to be successful.
Just typing that feels like a revealing admission to me. Which is ridiculous, I know. Yet, it feels vulnerable to admit. Because a ‘better’ person wouldn’t care how many books they sell. They would just be grateful that they got to write it. “That if it helps one person it will have been worth it.” But let me tell ya, if only one person buys it, it will decidedly NOT have been worth it. Certainly not for me, and most definitely not for my agent and publisher.
Which brings me to the crux of the situation: publishing a book is a business. Yes, I do want to help people, I also really enjoy writing and would like to do more of it. Which means this book needs to do well. Which means people need to buy it, and they can’t buy it if they don’t know it exists.
“Hi! It’s so great to see you!” Hug, hug, kiss, kiss.
Miguel and I are at a fancy cocktail party on the upper west side of Manhattan, filled with well-connected theater people of every background. This is not our usual social event. I am in the season of life where I rarely socialize outside of little league games or our local pool.
“How are you? What’s new?” Some folks talk about families or recent vacations, but at an industry party like this it doesn’t take long for conversations to steer toward each person’s latest project. So, I took the opportunity to practice talking about Normal Broken.
“Lots of little league and pool time this summer and then my book comes out in the fall!”
“You wrote a book? That’s amazing? What’s it about?”
“Well, um, grief. Basically, my journey learning to live with grief after my daughter died.” Yeah, I was going to have to work on my elevator pitch in social situations because dead kids is NOT the kind of topic that prompts people to lean in and say, “tell me more…”
Thankfully, there were plenty of people there to practice on.
“You wrote a book? That’s amazing? What’s it about?”
“It’s called Normal Broken, and I wrote it to be a companion for people who are grieving and struggling to figure out how to begin healing or where they fit in the world. I share many of my experiences from grieving my daughter – “ I pause for the anticipated reaction.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
“Thank you, yeah it seriously sucked, still does in fact, but writing helped me connect with others and feel a little less broken and a little more normal.”
I was surprised by the meaningful conversations that followed. Even at this frivolous, feel-good, social event folks wanted to share their experiences with grief. Now, I do realize that I was talking to theater people who tend to be a little more in tune with their emotions, but it was still encouraging.
Encouraging enough that this week I decided to take another step forward in self-promotion and ask for help…
“Does anyone have connections at companies that host employee events? I’m starting to plan my book marketing push and would love to come into a company that would buy a bunch of my books and then I could chat about grief/adapting to change/perseverance/mental health? Let the hustling begin!” I hit send on the text to my tried-and-true Chicago mom text group.
While my publisher does have a marketing team to support me, it is my hustling that will make the biggest difference. Just like no one could advocate for Adelaide better than me, no one is going to be able to promote this book better than me. And I AM really proud of it and I do think it will help people and I’m also super sorry in advance for the flood of ‘buy my book!’ posts which will inevitably be coming your way as pub day gets even closer.
So, um, to that end, if anyone has connections that they would like to share with me that might help with book sales – bring them on.
Phew, ok, I’m gonna go vomit now.
Image description: Kelly wearing a grey sweatshirt and holding a copy of her book, Normal Broken, in front of half her face.
