Writer Wednesday—Cost vs Sales


I’ve been involved in a few online discussions recently about marketing effectiveness. Everyone has an opinion, and some have experience, and some just won’t even try.

Let me explain:

As an author, you have to promote your books. Who better? You wrote them, you know them intimately, and you have a voice. If you don’t do this, no one else’s efforts will be effective. You can’t hide; you can’t shrug it off. If nothing else, you owe it to the people who helped you write and publish those books.

Beta readers, publishers, friends and other writers who gave good or bad advice—all of these people have a stake in your books, either money or time or both.

And now you’re just sitting there, waiting for sales?

“But what can I do?” you ask.

Be consistent. That is the single best piece of advice I can give you.

If you blog every day for a month, and stop cold, you will lose readers and fans and potential book-buyers. If you post on social media ten times a day, that could happen too—people do get tired of seeing the same things all the time.

You have to find the happy medium and you have to stick with it. Post links to your books a few days a week; post personal/author/writer updates on most days. Blog consistently too, and post those links.

Side note: “consistently” in the previous sentence means on a regular basis, whether it’s twice a week or four days a week or whatever; make your content relevant to your career as an author and to your books. Have a topic, a subject, a theme.

Don’t stop, don’t take a break. You can’t afford to, unless it’s an actual vacation—I don’t usually take those—and you announce it ahead of time. I still think you could throw in a few updates, even on vacation.

Do small business owners take vacations? Not usually. They’re busy building their businesses. They work fifteen-hour days. Do you have a full-time job? That’s eight hours or so. You should at least treat your career as an author as a part-time job, so spend a couple hours a day, every day, on writing and promoting.

Promote your books every single day, in some form or fashion.

Be judicious.

Always check out websites and social media pages and Twitter feeds to make sure you’re getting bang for your buck—in this instance, “buck” means your time, because here I’m talking about free stuff.

Go to Alexa.com. Type in a site. See what their visitor count and bounce rate are. Decide if it’s worth your time to list your books. Talk to others on the site and see what their sales have been in relation to their listings. And of course, make sure it’s a legit site in the first place.

As for social media, it doesn’t matter a lick how many followers you have unless they’re engaged with your site and seeing your posts. All those “like me and I’ll like you” are pretty worthless. Sure, you can like a page if you’re interested, but all this will accomplish is to raise numbers that mean nothing and, on the flip side, will clog up your newsfeed.

Twitter, too. SO MANY people have Twitter accounts and barely use them. SO MANY spammers are on Twitter. Don’t follow them just because they follow you. Again, it clogs up your feed.

Join groups—not all, not ones with six members, be judicious. Be choosy. Join the ones who seem to know what they’re doing, and not even all of them. There’s a lot of information out there; pick the best. You can’t follow them all; it’s a time suck.

Or maybe you can get on a podcast or TV or radio show or blog. Great! But how many people watch/listen/read it? Something to consider . . .

Should you pay for promotion?

Some authors do, some don’t. Be careful. Re-read the section above. All businesses pay, at some point, for advertising. Authors are notoriously broke, but so are new business owners. You have to weigh the cost for the value.

Be judicious. Try a promo site for a month. Watch your sales during that month and the one after. How effective was the promotion? If it worked, do it again. If it didn’t, try something else.

A paid site came up in conversation this week. The cost was $15, reasonable even for most broke authors. The cost was for an email blast was sent to 110,000 potential readers. That breaks down to .0001 cent per person. That is a phenomenal example of cost effectiveness:

  1. You don’t personally know 110,000 people
  2. You likely won’t ever do an event that 110,000 people attend
  3. It would cost you $3,300 to purchase postcards to send to that many people, without even knowing if they were readers or might have an interest in your books. And that’s not counting postage.

Yes, it’s true that you might have to sell seven or eight books to break even, but if even far less than 1% of those people bought your book, you could easily do it. And they might not do it right away—it might be next month before they get around to it.

Once upon a time, we had a cleaning business. We placed a classified ad; cost was around $20, if I remember right. My husband was against spending the money, and he felt justified when we got not one single call about our services.

SIX MONTHS LATER a lady called and hired us to clean once a month at a rate of $100. We did that for two years. $2400 earned on an investment of $20. Not only that, but she told her sister about us: another job, weekly, at $50. Total of $5200. And, she hired us to work at her business, renovating and cleaning.

My point is that, with any kind of advertising, you may not see immediate results. Look at the big picture, six months, a year.

This book writing stuff, it’s a career, not just writing and selling books.

 

 

 

 

 

Fan Friday—Employment or Research?


I did a radio interview last week, and the DJ ran down my bio before introducing me; a friend who listened asked me later, “What about driving a bus? You forgot that!” I had, indeed.

I’ve held a lot of jobs over the years; nothing I could call a career, but that didn’t really interest me. A career, I mean. I had a lot of entrepreneurial ideas, since I was a teenager at least, but my dad always said the road the security was to get a good job with a good company and stay there. Funny, since he was a farmer/politician. I found out later that he told my sister the exact opposite: work for yourself. Weird.

As a kid, I wanted a job. I knew about work, for sure, but I actually, you know, wanted to get paid. Make some money. Have the freedom that goes along with making that money.

The local bowling alley was hiring, so I talked my mom into taking me up there. I was 15, and I convinced them to hire me—with Mom’s permission, of course, since I was really too young to legally work without it. I ran the snack bar, met some people, even covered for the bartender once—shhh!

It lasted about six months or so. My dad got tired of picking me up at 3:00 a.m.

After that, I exercised racehorses one summer, and after high school graduation, I went to work at Girl Scout camp for a few summers. I dropped out the beginning of my sophomore year, in spite of parental threats, and got a job selling advertising for the Missouri State Troopers’ magazine. That was . . . interesting.

I drove all over Mid-Mo until one day, when I got to the office, no one was there. I mean, no one, nothing, nada. So I got on the phone. Finally found this company in Springfield; they’d packed up and neglected to pay anyone.

What did I do? Why, I offered to drive down to Springfield and work out of the office there—and they agreed to pay me what they already owed. They did, and I kept working there for a couple more months. Drove from Columbia every Monday, stayed in the dorms with a friend all week while I worked the area, and drove back home on Fridays.

You can read the rest of my bio here, but about that bus driving job:

In January 1988, I applied to be a school bus driver. They started me off driving the so-called short bus that carried behaviorally disabled kids to and from elementary school. It was easy enough work, although we had a few icy days that winter and I did get stuck once. At a school; they’d cleaned the front circle, but some of us had pickup in the back. Guess they forgot that little fact.

Anyway, the kids were awful. Awful! They bickered constantly, cursed continuously, and often threatened that “my daddy gonna beat yo ass” if I ever dared to tell them to be quiet. Sitting down wasn’t an issue, surprisingly.

One day, having just picked them up, I was driving down a wide, semi-busy road. Two of the kids got into a fierce argument, and one of them jumped up, ran to the front, and grabbed my two-foot-long-plus ice scraper, screaming that he was going to kill the other kid.

My arm flashed up as he pulled back to let fly, and I grabbed that scraper and hung on. The kid came to a standstill, nearly falling on his face. I pulled over, set the brake, and whipped off my seatbelt, clanging it against the side window.

By this time, the kid had slunk back to his seat. I stood up, waving that scraper and hollered, “Sit down and shut up! All of you! I’ve had enough of this crap—knock off the cussing, knock off the fighting, and no more threats!”

Got back in my seat, pulled into traffic, and had the quietest bus in the fleet for the rest of that route.

They never gave me any more trouble. None. In fact, one day, another driver yelled at me and claimed I’d clipped his mirror when I pulled out of a school. I certainly hadn’t, but my kids heard him and responded:

“My daddy gonna beat yo ass!”