"It's Nice to See You Again, Oprah"

At the San Francisco Writer’s Conference two years ago one of the speakers suggested that the seven most powerful words in publishing were, “It’s nice to see you again, Oprah.” Too true unless your name is Sarah Palin.

At least I can say that I wrote my book.

I could count on one hand the number of authors who don’t fantasize sitting next to Oprah during one of her shows. I am no different. I also know that there are better odds for world peace than Oprah asking me to read my shortest chapter, “A Short History of Guys and the Kitchen.”

Will I send her show my book? Absolutely. Something about nothing ventured.

I was commiserating with a fellow self-published author yesterday (and fellow San Francisco Writer’s Conference attendee) over the daunting odds of selling books in today’s economy and during a downward spiral of people-who-read-books. No bloodletting but massive wringing of hands and primal groans. We are both casting about trying tactics that would have been unheard of even ten years ago.

My next book may be entitled Rogue Marketing for the Self-Published. But it would only see the light of day if I sell enough books to beat those daunting odds. At least those are better odds than appearing on Oprah.

Book Puffery

As I have written here and in a published column, self-publishing is a lot like life, one long forced march into enemy territory. I am regularly more optimistic than that, but there are days when it seems that way. It is its own slog into the unknown, especially for the uninitiated, and the odds are daunting.

So, I slog on. Call it rogue marketing. The often disheartening task is to get outside my circle (albeit it a large one) of family and friends, especially with a limited budget.

For those who are clicking on my website or blog for the first time, whether via my Facebook ad or a friend’s recommendation, welcome. I hope you take your curiosity a step further, check out the book, and buy it.

To that end I am sharing here some comments received from friends. Yes, I know, friends won’t likely pan my book. And at times, the silence can be deafening. Conversely, there are some chest-expanders. What is said often says more than something like, “I’m enjoying your book,” as much as I still savor that.

To wit:

“Hilarious but oh-so-helpful.”

“Donna (spouse) kept asking me what I was laughing about so I would stop and read her a section I had just read.”

“Keith, your book is a hoot. I hope my hubby doesn’t notice the chocolate smudges on the pages Christmas morning.”

“The wedding for dummies and ‘Mr. Fix It’ situations were just great comedy.”

Your book… “has a niche, is funny and serious, thought-provoking and more, but just enough to let me beg, write a sequel! Become the macho male Erma Bombeck.”

There is no male version of Erma, IMO. It is a label I aspire to—another daunting task.