As I mentioned in my prior post, Christine offered some great advice on promoting the book once it’s available. Some of the ideas we were already onto. I’ve printed postcards and bookmarks. I’ve managed to get a few shops close by to display them on their shelves, and I’ve been hitting the local info boards outside the grocery stores. The ideal thing about living in a rural area is people actually get excited about a local artist, so I’ve received excellent support from local artisans and even our small town Cool Pharmacy.
We plan to branch out in the coming weeks and begin hitting small shops in the surrounding cities and towns. At the very least, Rick and I will enjoy some fun days scouting around and trying to get people interested in a little book called Lessons of a Wayward Yogini. If any of you readers have ideas on how to promote, please respond!
Back to Christine’s suggestions, she also brought up contacting local newspapers, radio, and television news stations, sending a copy of the book and seeing if they are interested in doing an interview, again that hometown gal angle. Apparently, Christine’s husband traveled around the US doing interviews for his book.
This was the part of the evening when my heart skipped a few beats, and not from the margaritas. WHAT??? Interviews on the radio or television? Again, WHAT??? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not so bold as to suggest that this will be happening. But I was freaking out just at the mere suggestion that it could happen.
It could be said that I have the gift of gab. I come by it naturally from my mom’s side of the family. It could also be noted that I am not a performer in any way, shape, or form. I can talk in front of a group of people, say at a funeral or in front of a classroom. It makes me nervous, but if I have something to say, I can push through that. But anything that’s scripted and resembles acting in any way, oh boy, that’s not for me.
In 9th grade, I took an acting class. The class was fun in terms of my classmates; truthfully, I had a crush on a boy in the class. But any exercises where I had to act were met with significant resistance on my part. I made it through the course, but it was a bit of a disaster when it came time for our final. We had to divide into groups and prepare a skit performed in front of the class. My group included three of my friends.
We practiced the skit for weeks. I had one of the beginning lines and the final line, which would cue the stagehand to close the curtains. I was so nervous that I said my first line, followed by the last line, which brought the curtains down without the other members of my group delivering their lines. Needless to say, my friends weren’t too happy with me. The teacher gave us a courtesy D on our final. So much for my acting abilities! I doubt much has changed on that front.
While I hope hope hope that I will be so lucky to have someone want to interview me about the book, my mental imagery beforehand will likely be pretty humorous.
Think Ed Asner (may he rest in peace) sitting at a newspaper desk, a cigarette burning in the ashtray with the smoke circling about a foot above Ed’s head, my introduction letter, and a copy of Lessons of a Wayward Yogini on the desk in front of him.
“Lessons of a what? What the hell is a yogini?” as he slides my book across the desk, and it drops with a loud thud into the garbage can below.
Or the old vaudeville acts, the black cane reaching across the stage to pull off the actors who have overstayed their welcome.
And my favorite, me standing on a stage mid-sentence with the heavy 20-year old velvet curtains dropping just feet in front of me, the dust rising as I work to catch my breath.
A vivid imagination is excellent for writing, not so much for anticipating stressful events.
Awww, but I love to jest, and luckily I’m far from that 13-year old girl. I’m sure whatever comes my way, I will rise to embrace the gift.
Along with I’m sure some trepidation, I will also imagine clinging tightly to my dream, excited to venture where it takes me.