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| 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.
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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
