Signed, soiled, delivered.


After another couple of weeks in the UK I’m back in Turkey for the foreseeable future. That should mean a bit of extended stability for the vitals of my writing life. Good. I need it. Two projects I’ve got to get to grips with. First, I need to make Cold Kills available for preorder – it’s ready for that stage. Second, Booker & Cash #3, working title Waifs & Strays, needs finishing and releasing. I’ll need a couple of months for that.

If I were motivated in that direction I would probably be considering some pre-release marketing strategies for Cold Kills: blog tours, online book launches, spending money I haven’t got on giving away the book for free through Net Galley in the hope of gaining some favourable reviews, give aways of my underwear – signed, soiled, delivered, complete with a COA – and …er… whatever else writers are doing in the area of self-promotion these days. It won’t surprise anyone who knows me to learn that currently I’m not. Possibly a crap attitude for a CWAP? Well, I do wonder just how much practical good all of the above and other tricks of the self-promoting trade actually does. By practical good, I’m talking about download figures – that is, surely, the bottom line for anyone who goes to all that trouble. Is it ultimately worth the time and effort invested? I’ve dipped a toe in those murky waters, invested time and a sometimes a little money in self-promotion but I can’t say I ever saw much of a return, unless it was a Bookbub promotion – worth every cent. And there’s something about all that drum beating I find distatsteful. This idea that what ‘I’ve’ written is so brilliant that it warrants all this attention. Fundamentally I don’t like this face of self-publishing. This idea that we write something and then we have to force our way into people’s virtual lives, shouting in their faces, demanding they sit up and take notice. And everyone’s doing it. It’s not easy to be heard when everyone shouts. Maybe one day I’ll drop through the trap door of my moral high ground and join in. I’m not in the mood, right now.

I like to write. I like to self-publish. I like to keep a writer’s diary and then link my blog posts to my social media sites. I enjoy interacting with readers who get in touch through social media sites. And that’s it for me. Still, each to their own as Grandma Tidy used to say, usually before she did something disgusting or morally bankrupt.

12 thoughts on “Signed, soiled, delivered.

  1. I respect your views, though I do believe promotion is a useful tool. I could give examples of good media savy authors who self publish. However I am not going to waste my time on that. We are doing it at the moment and it will be interesting to see the responses.

    • I know you are right, David. And I will be very interested to see how things go for what you’re involved in. Naturally, I wish AB and you guys all the very best with it. πŸ™‚

  2. As a freelancer I can understand you feelings about promotion–but it does help; however there are some of us out here who are waiting anxiously to read more of your writing. Sometimes we just have to bite the bullet and overcome reservations about “marketing”.

  3. Hi Oliver – the trouble is with 5,000 odd new books published every day on Amazon (not sure of the figure – but it is BIG), build it and they will come simply doesn’t apply any more. If it ever did. Build it and they will ignore you or just never be aware of your existence unless you shout loudly and develop an audience. Marketing is essential no matter how unnatural it feels. I think you’re doing pretty well – you were top in the Amazon free 100, you’ve got an audience of faithful blog followers and Dirty Business has got 131 reviews – most of them 5 star. So great! Keep going.

    • Hi Sarah,
      Good to hear from you.
      Is it really as many as that? I had no idea but, oddly, I’m not surprised.
      Thanks for your thoughts. As I just replied to another commenter, I know you’re right. It is a necessary evil, unless you have the initials JKR.
      At present I’m doing OK thanks to a number wonderfully supportive readers. One day, I’m sure I’ll get over myself and get involved properly – probably when I run out of writing ideas. πŸ™‚
      Best wishes.

  4. Bit despondent, Mr T? Perhaps being over here, away from that over there, takes away your focus. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to spend so much time away from your calling. Perhaps splitting your time so decisively in two should be avoided? Only you can say, but I don’t like to think of your negativity as a mountain to be scaled. We all want you back to your highly productive best, my man! Get in touch, should you feel the need…

    Best as ever
    Shelagh X

    • Ma’am,
      Despondent? Moi? Have you ever known me to be such a thing. πŸ™‚
      Blame my mum for my toing and froing. I was emotionally blackmailed to go back to help her move home. (And she threatened to cut me out of her will if I didn’t shake a leg.) Poor old girl, she’s getting on a bit and not as tough as she used to be.
      Now that I’m back nestling in the bosum of Turkey – nothing like a bit of turkey breast for nourishing the creative juices, I find – I hope to be pushing on with things. I’m considering penning a self-help book: Depression for Dummies. What do you think?
      Best wishes.
      PS Your kind offer is noted. Thanks. You act tough but I reckon you’re a softie at heart πŸ™‚

  5. Morning Oliver,
    I can say, ‘Ditto,’ to how you feel, but I’m blaming that on still convalescing from that hip-op – or hip-hop as I call it. But, I have always been the one at the back: the one who sticks to the wall at village hoe-downs or family dos. I have never shouted the loudest, it’s rather unladylike – now that word really does show my age. But, whispers can travel farther than a low voice, so keep on whispering.

    Best Wishes.

  6. Hi Oliver,
    It’s good to read your blog updating us all, but I must say sometimes you do waffle on a bit so I don’t always read right the way through to the end. Less is more, someone once quoted.
    No offence meant.

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