I saw this photo on Facebook today and the absurdity of a pig in tiny red boots gave me a much needed laugh. I feel a bit like this right now. Absurd. (I’m ignoring the plump pig part.)
The boots won’t help me now though. I’m at least waist deep in self-publishing. Some days, I’m positive I’m in over my head. I know now that writing and polishing the novel was the easy part. I’ve had to be talked in off the ledge a few times already, and I haven’t even started the e-book conversion.
If you’ve been thinking of self-publishing, don’t let my moaning discourage you. My biggest problem is trying to do this as cheaply as possible. I’m sure I’ve used up all my favors from friends. I used my artistic talent and fledgling graphics skills to create my own book cover. I hunkered down with dozens of examples from my shelves and taught myself how to format the interior for the print version.
So, The Brevity of Roses will be published soon. And then, the real absurdity begins. I will have to market the book. I’ve read tons on the subject. I’ve picked the brain of suburban noir author Cathryn Grant so much, I’m surprised she’s not reduced to vacant-eyed drooling.
I still have no idea what I’m going to do.
It’s likely my book will launch with a whimper. I’ll try not to become a harpy crying, “Buy my book!” in every blog post, status update, or tweet. I have a feeling that in a few weeks I’ll blog about how marketing with no budget was as absurd as a pig in red boots.
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