Look at Me! (But I Don't Want to be Famous)

Hi, I'm Shelley! Nice to meet you. 

If there’s one aspect of this writing life that wickedly grins and winks it’s baleful eye at me, it’s promotion. Some authors might dream of being invited to appear on Good Morning America or give a keynote address at a mystery convention, but the idea leaves me cold as Maine frost on a tomato vine in October.  

There are authors who play around on Tik Tok with wild abandon, revel in each new trend on Instagram, and joyfully post to Facebook in hopes of scoring a big viral hit with a reel or meme, even if it’s off-topic, in order to gain name-recognition and maybe a following. They fantasize about big-time fame along the lines of Stephen King or J.K. Rowling. 

I get it. When I was younger that kind of recognition appealed to me, as well. I enjoyed “sharing” my life with people. I didn’t mind being an open book. In my 40s, I took to blogging with abandon. It felt like writing in my journal, only in public. Facebook was fun. I liked connecting with my friends and family and meeting new people to “friend.” Even Instagram seemed enjoyable with all those photos and slick aesthetics.

Eventually, as I became more focused on a writing career, gaining a following seemed a feasible way to make sales once I had books to sell. I thought it might be fun to be a little famous, to be a little bit Stephanie Meyers walking the red carpet after her books-turned-movies shot her into the stratosphere. 

But now? I just want to write. And get paid for it.

That’s the rub, isn’t it? In order to make any sort of living as a novelist (even a substandard living that doesn’t even compare to working the counter at a fast-food joint) we must promote ourselves. Most of us can’t hope to find our readers if we don’t put ourselves out there in some way, and the most cost-effective way to do that is to set up free social media accounts and post madly day after day after day. 

So I do it. 

I talk into my phone to make videos to share on Instagram and Facebook. I create little graphics on Canva to hopefully draw eyeballs to my “uplifting and encouraging” Monday Motivation posts. I share photos of my trips hither, thither, and yon in hopes of “engaging” my audience. I add music to snaps of pretty flowers and foliage. I share my book covers, review quotes, even photos of my “outfits of the day” because my female sleuth character, Olivia Lively, is a private investigator with a closet full of fashionable clothes and accessories. 

LOOK AT ME!” I scream with the rest of them online. Inside, however, I’m whispering, “But I don’t want to be famous.” 

Maybe it’s time I start honoring the whisper more than the scream.  

____

Note: Thank you to the Type M for Murder community for inviting me to share my thoughts on the writing life. I’ve been working on my craft for 40 years, since about age 16, when I decided writing books for a living sounded pretty sweet. The industry, meanwhile, has gone through a huge transition to ebooks and indie publishing, aided and abetted by the rise of social media companies, and the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to understand how publishing works and for whom. I’m happy to share what I know, what I’m thinking about it all, and my ideas for navigating the waters. If there’s a topic you’d like to know more about, drop me a line at shelley@shelleyburbank.com and I’ll take a stab at it. 

To learn more about me in the meantime, check out my Substack newsletter, PINK DANDELIONS and at my website ShelleyBurbank.com

But what is it you REALLY do?

I learned a long time ago — and considering my first novel came out in 1992, that is a long time ago — that any artistic endeavour, whether writing, painting, sculpture, music, is treated by many as a hobby or past time, not something you pursue full-time and certainly not something you spend your whole life doing — unless they’ve heard of you. For writers, even consistently making the bestseller list doesn’t ensure that the majority of the population will have heard of you. I have a few friends who are very successful authors who make in the six figures every year, and from the first time I mentioned one to an acquaintance who does read (just not in that genre), their response was to look puzzled and respond, “Who?”

About the only author you can pretty sure that most have heard of (outside of the Dickens’s and Shakespeare’s of the world) is Stephen King, odd as that may sound. And please notice that I used the phrase “heard of”. Probe a little deeper and you’ll find most have never read him or could even name one of his novels. I know because I’ve asked.

When I tell someone I’m a musician or writer, I can almost feel their pat on my hat. “Oh, that’s nice,” said in a rather condescending tone. “Have you had anything published?” or “Do you ever play in public or just with your friends?” Another response is often, “That is just so nice to be able to pursue your dreams.” Another favourite is, “But can you actually make a living at that?”

To hide the bit of hurt I feel at either type of response, I usually make light of it, but I also either mention when my next book is being released or where I’m performing next. The usual rejoinder is either (for music), “I should come out and hear you sometime” (which means never) or (for writing), “Would I like your books?” Both mean they’ll no doubt forget the conversation in the next five minutes.

If it sounds like I’m bitter — I’m not. I accept it now as a fact of life. If someone truly appears interested, I’ll tell them a bit more, but I’ll keep it brief. I have business cards for both endeavours, and I may hand them one. Sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised when I find out they did go out and buy one of my books, or they show up at a gig. If they like what they read or hear, I’ll often get this question: “How come I’ve never heard of you?”

How do you answer that one in under an hour?

Getting back to my famous friends, I’ve discussed this with two of them. What has me smiling now is that they have the exact same story. Now, when they do tell about themselves, they certainly have the “wow factor” going for them when all is revealed, but you can be sure that a lot of people they meet socially have no idea who they are until they do say something like, “I had a movie made about one of my novels”, or “there’s a series based on my series of books”.

What I’m trying to say is that this is all a fact of life, and if you’re an artist you’d better learn to live with it or you’ll wind up being unhappy, even bitter, and that’s really no good. The best revenge is to take solace in knowing that you’ve accomplished something that few people do. In the case of books, they will outlive you. Imagine how cool it is that someone two hundred years in the future may discover your writing and imagines what it would have been like to do something like this or to have met you.

That’s lasting fame — as well as a nice spot of revenge!