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Your next favorite book
is waiting.
For many authors, writing a novel and getting published is the easy part; the challenge comes in building awareness among readers in a world over-crowded with new books. Savvy authors know that the publicity department of their publisher can only do so much, and such authors look for ways to reach out directly to their readers. One novelist, John Shors, has spoken to about 2,000 book clubs in the past three years!
Dear
Reader,
In 2004, the hardcover version of my debut novel, Beneath a Marble Sky,
was released. I was blessed because, over the next year, Beneath a Marble Sky
did quite well--garnering wonderful reviews, winning a national award, and
attracting significant interest from Hollywood. Due to all of these events, I
was able to quit my day job and become a fulltime novelist.
I was grateful to readers for their support, and decided that I wanted to do
something to support readers in return. So, when Penguin released the paperback
version of
Beneath a Marble Sky in 2006, I decided to add a letter to the
back of the book that invited book clubs to invite me to their evenings (all
they needed was a speakerphone). I included my email address.
An endless supply of quotes exist telling us we should do what we love in life. Though many are cliché, I found myself rooting around for just the right one after hearing Alexander McCall Smith read from his latest book,
Tea Time for the Traditionally Built. Having read most of the books in his No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, I was eager to see and hear in person the man who brought me the much adored Precious Ramotswe. As I entered the Borders bookstore in Ann Arbor, it was evident that I was not alone.
Since I probably haven't had the pleasure of listening to someone read to me since kindergarten carpet time, it was with happy nostalgia that I sat cross-legged and elbow to elbow on the bookstore floor, listening to the cadenced voice of Mr. McCall Smith. Bewitched by his lilt and laughter, he quickly transformed the packed room of overwrought adults into a sea of sunny, eager faces as he read his favorite passages from Tea Time.
Guest blog by Michelle Richmond
Michelle can be found online at
michellerichmond.com
In the past year, I've visited many book clubs for
The Year of Fog.
One of the things I've learned from this experience is how deeply books live
inside the minds of their readers: once a reader opens a book, the story is
never exactly what the author intended it to be. It takes on a new life, a life
informed by the very unique perspective of each reader. The reader is not simply
a separate being in a chair, holding a book in her hands. The reader is always
part of the story.
Guest blog by Meg Waite Clayton, author of
The Wednesday Sisters
Meg can be found online at
megwaiteclayton.com
The history of my writing starts with a brown paper lunch bag. Like Linda does in my novel, The Wednesday Sisters, my first writing teacher dumped a collection of "interesting things" onto a table and told us to write about anything that spilled. She swore we wouldn't have to read. Then she called time after five minutes, and called on me to read first.
Which is the good news: If she hadn't, I'd have ducked out before she could call on me second. It had taken all the nerve I had just to get to that class, to admit that, yes, I dreamed of writing novels. I thought writers leaped tall buildings in single literary bounds, and that's not me.
Guest blog by
Laila Lalami, author of
Secret Son
Laila can be found online at
lailalalami.com
For
the first two years during which I worked on my novel, I didn't have a title for
it. It was simply labeled The Novel, both in my computer and in my
head. Perhaps this was because I really wasn't sure what the book was going to
be about. It started out as a historical novel, following two generations of
two Moroccan families after independence; then I cut out the historical part;
and eventually I got rid of one of the families. As my focus narrowed, my story
became clearer to me. The Novel was about Youssef, a student and movie
lover, who lives in a slum outside Casablanca. He discovers that his entire existence has been a lie--his dead and respectably
poor father turns out to be a wealthy businessman who is very much alive. This
discovery sets him on a journey to find his father and the truth.
Guest blog by Hillary Jordan, author of
Mudbound.
Hillary can be found online at hillaryjordan.com
Before I was a novelist, I was
clever for a living. I was an advertising copywriter for twenty some-odd years,
first for various agencies and then, eventually, freelance. I'm in recovery now,
although I confess I still take on the occasional assignment when I need a quick
infusion of cash. In my long career, I conceived, wrote and produced TV and
radio commercials, print ads, billboards, web banners, table tents, door
hangers, and sundry for everything from Acura to Zoloft: cars, batteries,
chicken parts, dog food, sneakers, shampoo, Champagne, paper towels ("It's
quilted once, then quilted again!"), perfume, tortellini, vacuum cleaners, blue
jeans, tacos, antacids (one of my favorite spots for this product was a horror
spoof called "Children of the Corn Dog"), men's leisure wear, chocolates, home
theater systems, hair gel, beer, banks, sanitary napkins (the dreaded briefing
for that one took place on what I called "Tuesday Bloody Tuesday"), Texas
Tourism, an English cider, a Korean cosmetics line, a Russian oil company, and
various prescription drugs ("Side effects may include dry mouth, insomnia,
sleepiness, nausea and diarrhea"). And this is just the tip of a massive adberg.
