I’m a networker. I’ve been doing it for years, I’m pretty good at it, it gives me something to do when I’m not writing, and I get great results. Whoa, back space!!
I’ve just put my two novels up on Amazon with Kindle Direct Publishing. I emailed, tweeted and facebooked all my contacts. I networked the net until there were no nets unturned, and just to be sure, and unable to contain the excitement pouring out of all my pores, I netted them again.
Then I checked my stats after two days. One sale. Repeat that. One sale! Repeat it again. ONE sale!
The thing with cross-stitching, not only can I do it with a calm approach, without annoying a living soul, I can also stop comfort eating, because my hands have something better to do.
The thing with networking is...well let’s just say...where are the chocolate biscuits?
So here’s the dilemma...take a seat.
I heard a rumour that a there’s a writer out there called XXXXX who wrote a book called ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’. It is (apparently) called mummy porn and it has (apparently) replaced the need to make mummies comfort eat just because they have nothing to do with their hands.
This lady, XXXXX, put her book up on Amazon, got a couple of million hits, got picked up by a publisher, sold the film rights (let’s not go there) and became an overnight success.
So, my question is, how did she do it? Did she network until her nets looked like a used pair of holey tights? Did she eat so much chocolate that her chubby little hands could no longer function, or did she have some other secret, where she reached the masses with a book that began as a spin off to a certain vampire series? (Apparently)
My guess is the latter, because while I’m pondering the notion of following in her footsteps, putting aside my needlework in favour of seeking a few million hits, I have to consider the possibility that she knows a lot more than the rest of us and that her little secret of success has nothing to do with knowing what to do with her hands.
What do you reckon?
Answers on a postcard J
My hitless wonder, No.1:
My hitless wonder, No.2: