Advertising on Facebook

I finally gave in and paid for an advertisement on Facebook.

Now, what's especially difficult about advertising, at least in my case, is the fact that I write ninety-nine cent ebooks. I don't sell 'widgets.' I don't even offer a hard copy of my books to put in your hand.

For a long while, I wrestled with what to do. Then I decided I wanted to make the cover recognizable. So, I uploaded that. It was rejected. The text totaled 44% of my image(?). According to their standard, it could not exceed 20%. Here's the rejected cover:

So, I put up a link.

The link connected to my blog post, which offered another link to Amazon, which offered the opportunity to purchase my ebook, McShane Mini-Mystery, The Trilogy of Thrills, a compilation of the first three ninety-nine cent ebooks of the series. How did having to click three separate links do, you might ask? Well, you might. C'mon! You might.

Okay, okay. It did a great benefit. For my JL Mo fb page (feel free to 'like' my page!). For the sales of my ebooks, not so much. But, as the spirit of the great Marketing God has been quoted, "it got my name out there." The stats on the fb page said that my five bucks got me 2,607 views (if you can believe that). I still didn't make enough to cover the five bucks.

The moral of the story? Well, 5 divided by 2607 is 0.0019 (that calculation is for those who have read the books). I couldn't buy that kind of audience, for that price, to see my name in any other forum that I know of.

So, I just keep writing, working, hoping, that one day, someday, maybe I'll make my five bucks back.

Commiseration with "I am grateful now f* off"

I'm a mother of two grown sons, and after I read a blog post titled "I am grateful now fuck off" I had to share this.

     I tell this true story to both of my grown sons about a time in their infancy. Yes, it happened twice.

***

     You were just over a year old. I worked a full time job, and had all of the other responsibilities that go with being a young wife and mother.

     In the course of two weeks, because of you, no one in the house had slept more than three hours straight. Your wails at two a.m. were the stuff of legend! We visited the doctor, only to be told it’s "a phase", and you would grow out of it. In the meantime, sleep deprivation had started taking its toll on me.

     On one late night/early morning wake up scream, you’d been changed, fed, rocked, sang to, and pleaded with, all to the ear splitting screeches of your protests. At one point, I held you at arm’s length to protect myself from your furiously kicking feet. Your face became fire-engine red as you inhaled for another round of gut wrenching, head spinning, glass-shattering screams.

     “What?” I howled in frustration. “The doctor said there’s nothing wrong!” At that point, I had an Ally McBeal moment.

     50-somethings will recognize this reference. For those younger, let’s call it a Scrubs moment.

     In my mind’s eye, in the midst of the screeching, and kicking, and tears (mine), a barbaric roar escapes my lips as I hurl you into the wall above your bed. A cartoon outline remains in the drywall as you fall face-first into your crib.

     Reality flash. I’m still holding you aloft, you’re still screaming. I lay you, ever so gently, into your bed, and walk away, closing the door behind me.

     You screamed for another ten minutes, alone in the dark, my heart breaking for you, and the horribly funny image still burned in my mind. Then your screams turned to whimpers, your whimpers slowly falling to silence.

     Shhh! The baby’s sleeping! I thought to myself as I danced up and down the hallway at four in the morning. As I laid in my bed later, the crushing guilt of what I'd thought while holding my screeching infant made me feel like a monster.

     I called my mom the next day and told her the story of my disturbing fantasy. She laughed and told me I should be grateful that I have kids with healthy lungs. Standing three hundred miles away from her, I threw her from the top of the Empire State Building.

     I tell you this story to let you know, those Ally McBeal moments are okay. It’s even okay to be frustrated to the point of wishing you never had kids. And, if you ever stand in their room at two in the morning, feeling like throwing them into a wall, just lay them down gently, and walk away.

     You can be grateful later.

The Roller Coaster called Kindle

It’s here! Click the link to continue the saga...

McShane Mini-Mystery Series Volume 3 – Hurricane or Homicide

And the compilation — The Trilogy of Thrills

    Originally, I created the lead character of the McShane Mini-Mystery Series, Summer Autumn McShane, as practice for the intricacies of self-publishing through kindle. What a roller-coaster. Hair-pulling frustration at its depth, and mind-spinning elation at its peak, the ride is not for the easily intimidated. No matter what the writer’s writing for writers writing say, it can be a real nightmare.

     As I said in my last post, I love to write. The newest wrinkle in a successful career, however, is the ability to also understand a certain level of computer programming. Oh, and marketing. We can't forget the marketing. And don't lose sight all of this is moot if you haven't the basic talent to tell a story people might find interesting enough to read (and hopefully, to pay for).

     I am self-taught. Never having taken a formal writing course may, or may not, be evident. Still, I have had lots of informal guidance from very learned sources (and tons of kudo’s).

     There are three books to the McShane series, and I’ve learned so much from them. I’ve even gone so far as to combine them, complete with inserted graphics, and upload the entire thing as The Trilogy of Thrills.

     Apparently the combo sent my kindle account into a tail spin. The next evening I checked my books, and the texts of the four books had gotten switched between the covers. I don’t want to know what kind of party the Amazon AI’s were having which resulted in that. Ignorance is bliss, and all.

     At a gathering of friends recently, I tried to explain all that I’ve been through with kindle. One acquaintance said, Oh, I thought you just wrote a book and handed it off to someone else to upload. *sigh*  Not a lot of people understand self-publishing.

     Anyway, I hope you’ll give in to the temptation and check out the links above. Ms. McShane has become so much more to me than practice. She has grown off the page and demanded to be heard. And I am having a blast learning from her.

     Enjoy the trilogy for a buck off through 3/3/2015. And as you read, imagine the fun I had until two a.m. clearing my head and un-clenching my stomach after a ride on the Roller Coaster Kindle.

Blood, Sweat, and yes, Tears

 Blood, Sweat, and yes, Tears

            Writing isn’t all that hard. All you need is blood, sweat, and tears.

Blood — Check

     I love to write. I have so many short stories already written, a few published, and more ideas for stories I want to write. I can sit at my laptop all day and still not have written everything bouncing around in my head. Years ago, I wrote for the fun of it. I had no aspirations other than to get a story out of my head and onto paper. Afterward, it would get filed away with the rest of the stories that demanded to be put "onto paper". However, life’s other demands at the time were children, a nine-to-five job, a husband, etc., etc. A wished-for writing career would have to wait. There would be time for that. In the meantime, I could continue to bleed ink.

Sweat — Check

     Writing is easy. Marketing is hard.

It seems I have squandered the opportunities of old. Once upon a time, a writer needed to submit their work to a publisher, and the work would be given genuine consideration on its own merit. Those days are gone.

     Now, should you be qualified to submit your work to a publisher, you also need to bring your platform. A “platform” is a polite euphemism for a fan base. Yes, you must bring fans to a publisher. If there are not five to ten thousand folks ready to buy your book, the big boys don’t want to hear from you.

     How does one get five to ten thousand people ready to buy a book?

     Marketing.

     There are writers who’ve left their day jobs with that many contacts. For instance, successful business people, doctors, marketing agents. That’s almost a ready-made platform.

     There are other writers writing for writers who write words. That’s another way to build a fan base. Be an expert at something people need.

     Some folks, like me, have do it a harder way. We try to build an audience through blogs, independent publishing houses, self-publishing, shaking hands, kissing babies, whatever it takes, we’ll give it a shot.

     But, here’s a typical conversation: Hi. I’m JL Mo. I’m writing a mystery series called… No! Wait! Come back! 
     Damn.

Tears — Check

     Rejection is hardest of all. (Announcer’s voice) But, hey, tears are salty, and salt is a flavor enhancer, and better flavor is what we’re all after! Right?

     Okay, I’m not a motivational speaker either.

I still need to rehearse pitches, so if I meet someone who doesn’t run away I’ll not bore them, or make myself sound like an idiot. Family, and some friends, stand there glassy-eyed through my rehearsals, waiting for me to stop talking. To be fair, I’d much rather go back to my laptop and keep writing. I’m no good at marketing.

     Anybody want a commission-based job selling books?

     Me neither.