You want to believe that everyone who is doing something amazing is both fully invested and fully capable. You want to. But that’s not always the reality. And look, let’s get a few things straight off the bat, because I like the cut of your ever-so-attractive jib:
I am a terrible marketer. I mean, seriously lousy. I’ve been surrounded by it most of my working life, and it’s one of those elements that I really can’t bring myself to get any better at. It’s an evil art that’s been hexed to look gorgeous. I bend at the knee for those who are good at this sort of thing (though you’ll have to give me a minute to get back up; cartilage).
I am also the absolute worst at shouting my own praises. If I could pay someone to do the publishing elements, I absolutely would, and I say that knowing I run the risk of alienating you, dear reader, who might consider that this confession is akin to saying “You’re all bags of meat, and I would gladly treat you with disdain.” But it’s nothing personal, honestly. I will, in later entries, describe why this book hasn’t even gone through the chances of being picked up by traditional publishing.*
But I’m here now. I’ve written a Facebook post. I’ve created a tweet. I am strongly considering getting myself a tall coffee and publishing some new rather twee and inconsequential “tidbit” from the book to tantalize the… let me count them… ZERO readers and subscribers I have. Do not get me wrong — this is the start, and it’s a start I mean to continue. But boy oh boy, do I hope I don’t stuff this up.
“Glitter Buckets & Spades” is an amazing novel. It’s fun, it’s witty, it’s got a lot of love wrapped up within it, and I’m desperate for you to read it. Please do. It’s smashing.
*Note that I make no suggestions that those efforts might be successful.