(AND NO ONE THINKS THEIRS STINKS)
So, I’ve been reading a lot of blogs and advice listicles online about how to build my “author brand” and I must admit that I still have no idea what I’m doing. Allow me to illustrate with a story (written in the third person with imaginary characters because one person said your blog should be work samples and not about one’s dog, life or personal experiences) (Also I hate that man and if you don’t want to see dog pics we can’t be friends)
Sally stood at the counter, watching the man sweat.
He was large, it was summer, but still it was a lot of sweat.
“Excuse me?” she asked him, trying to get his attention for the third time. It had been half an hour since Sally had come into the auto mechanic’s shop, inappropriate name Quick Fix. In that time, the man behind the counter had burped, drank something from a can wrapped in a paper bag, and itched himself. It would be rude to say where, but the man was thoroughly scratched.
“Yeah?” he said, without looking up. He was staring just below the counter at what sounded to be a baseball game. There were ten people sitting in the room with her, and she was the last to try and force the man in the button down shirt naming him “Geremy” to do something.
“Germ-y?” she said, trying to make sense of the strange spelling. He didn’t notice.
“Yeah,” he said again. He produced a sandwich from somewhere and unwrapped it, eyes fixed at the screen below the counter.
“I’m sorry, but I have surgery in an hour, have you run a diagnostic on my car?” Sally asked and he didn’t look up.
“There’s a line,” he said, gesturing to the other people.
“Fine, I’d like my car back,” Sally said, adjusting her scrub top. It had been a mad lunchbreak dash to get her car looked at and it would seem that she needed a new mechanic.
“Can’t,” he said, pointing toward the bay. “On the lift.”
“Then you’ve looked at it?” she asked, watching a piece of something coated in mayonnaise fall onto his chin and stay there, skewered by his stubble. Sally fought back a wave of nausea. She had held hearts crusted in adiopocere tissue in her hand and massaged them back to life, but mayo coated meat on the stubble of a disgusting man did her in.
He let out a long exasperated breath and threw the sandwich on the counter. He pawed through a pile of papers next to him and read while smudging them with food.
“You need a new fan, a new fan belt, a cable and some ball bearings,” he said and she furrowed her brow.
“Don’t listen to him,” said a man behind her. He was tall, maybe 6 foot 5, and had a young boy in a baseball uniform beside him. “This place tells everyone they need that. Ask Jack in the back what he really thinks.”
“No, the bearings are what’s causing a rattling,” an older woman with a weathered novel said. “If you’re hearing rattling, you need to get the bearings replaced.”
“The rattling is a fan screw. Don’t change the bearings until you’ve checked out the fan screw,” yet another person piped in. Sally stared at the room, watching as they all debated what was wrong with her car and she suddenly wished she’d gone to mechanic school instead of medical school.
Except, even having gone to medical school, her patients were sitting in the room doing the same thing: quoting Dr. Google to tell her what years of study must have been wrong about. No one, it would seem, was allowed to just do their job without having to answer to opinions of the masses. No matter how much you knew, someone was always right there to tell you you’re wrong.
You’ve heard the stories. Mommy groups, rescue groups, fitness groups (though not as much) and anti-maskers, they all know more than you. Everyone else has been around the world twice and you are some noob who still hasn’t gotten wings. It’s frustrating, exhausting and in the end it’s a complete waste of time.
I posted a picture of my dog in the rescue group I adopted him from and someone said his collar was too tight. The adorable baby has the exact same head width as his neck and the collar was loose enough that when he’d shake his massive head, it would fly off and across the room. I’m kind of lucky it didn’t hit the TV because we won that a GPOA Christmas party raffle and there are no parties anymore. You should see the hate I get for having to train my dog with an eCollar. Let me assure you, Perry is fine, but a lot of other people and dogs wouldn’t be without it.
Halsey put her baby on a floaty in the pool and was told CPS needed to take her baby because she was irresponsible and now she can’t post pictures of her kids on the internet. (I heard this on the pop radio station several months ago and I may have the performer, social media platform and everything else in this story wrong, but I know for certain that the part where people attacked a new mother for playing with her child is real).
EVERYONE is trying to sell you something. EVERYONE, from that overly helpful mommy, to that branded fitness apparel company that hosts a motivational Facebook group with challenges and comradery. You will meet some great people in there, but at the end of the day: the goal is to sell you something.
In trying to expand my audience, I have been on A LOT of websites. Most read as though it’s free advice for writers and they’ll give you a compiled list of marketing websites that are cheap and personally vouched for with arbitrary graphs and claims that you truly cannot verify. I’ve downloaded eBooks, joined Facebook groups and 9/10 I’ve looked at my PayPal after spending $15 for a newsletter listing to see that I have once again send money to Vincent O’Hare. I don’t know who he is, but he certainly knows how to convince Indie authors to list their books on his many, MANY websites. The cost is cheap enough that you do it, because Dave at Kindlepreneur and Paid Author all vouched for that website. But, you never see any results… or your money.
Also I don’t think Vincent O’Hare is real because I said I wanted my money back and he was a fraud, but he never answered and I forgot to notify PayPal.
I’m trying so hard to write novels, build a brand, heed the advice of people who appear to have success in the field and… I waste money in a lot of $15 increments. I waste money trying to get access to materials to create a cover. Materials to edit the cover and the book. You pay for subscriptions and listings and adjust the price and in the end… what? You just have to hope for the best?
So, I guess my point with all of this is: how do you really know what to do? What is reputable in a market that’s designed to maximize profit while minimizing work on their end? Indie authors work so hard, going to extreme lengths to get readers and reviews. Making social media accounts on platforms they don’t understand (cough<TWITTER>cough), trying to deliver blog content that’s genuine and honest, but isn’t about anything more than their writing. While also not reading too much like their published works so they think they got the story for free, but not so different that they wouldn’t recognize your writing should they read it.
If you are an Indie author reading this, I don’t have any advice for you. I’ve not experienced significant success, but I’m not failing. Approximately five people buy my books a month, I dare say at least one of them reads it, and I love writing. In the end, if you love it and it makes you happy and you want to share it with the world: do it. Because it’s your story and you should share it.
For better or worse, in line or far left of the advice given: I’m going to keep sharing what I love.
Like these pictures of my dogs. 😉
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