Book Promotion Notes from the First Week

It’s natural for writers to want to spread word of our work. We all realize that, short of hiring a publicist, we’re our own best champions. But if we go too far, or are too single-minded in that pursuit, we can come off as boorish and arrogant.

To do it successfully, keep some things in mind.

• Push the good stuff. In an ideal world, everything you have appearing is amazing and wonderful, but if your experience is closer to mine, some stories are stronger than others. Pick the best, and when you’re mentioning that you’re eligible for something, point to those and not to an exhaustive list of everything published that year. Presumably you’ve got a bibliography available somewhere on your website (here’s mine, for example), and if anyone wants to see everything you produced, they can check that out.
• Pay it back, in spades. Want other people to feel inclined to spread word of your stuff? Then make sure you’re doing it for them. If you read a story you like online, point other people to it in a blog post or on whatever social network you use. Drop the author a note and say why you liked it. Don’t sit back and expect glory to come your way, whether or not it’s well-deserved. Make nominations and recommendations, and vote. Go to other people’s readings. If you’ve got to pass up an opportunity, try to steer it towards someone that needs it. You don’t need to be insincere about any of this. Praise the stuff you like, and if you’re having trouble finding it, you should be looking harder.
• Monitor and maintain connections. Pay attention to other people’s events and celebrate their victories. Just be a decent human being, and life will be better overall (at least, in my experience. If you’re a personality type damaged by human interaction, take all of this with a suitably-sized grain of salt.) This is part of paying it back, really, but it’s more than that. It’s being aware of the people around you. I stress it because I’m bad about it and it’s something I’ve been trying to be extra mindful of lately.
• Listen more than you talk. This helps with maintaining connections. Remember that sometimes communication isn’t about what’s being said, but about the act of performing it. Time is one of our most valuable commodities – to say to someone that you want to share yours is a valuable thing. (But at the same time, remember that other people’s time is just as valuable to them. What you view as quality time spent with them, they may think of as time they could be spending on something else.)
• Eyes on the prize. As with so many other things in life, time spent doing this is time spent not writing. If you’re thinking of networking as a career-building activity, make sure you’ve got an actual career to build on. The greatest network in the world won’t do you much good unless you’re actually producing something.

I’m on fire! was my first thought.

Then “” some very stupid part of me bubbled up But look at how pretty the blue edges flicker “” and then panic overwhelmed me again as some lizard part of my brain scrambled to get out of the way of I’M ON FIRE.

Everyone else was doing so, and it looked as though they hadn’t lost any seconds to contemplation of the prettiness. Wren had drawn up short, ten feet away, her fists balled as she stared at me, the two new guys on either side, each with a hand on her shoulder. They exchanged glances, blinked as though surprised, and stepped back. Wren kept staring. She swallowed, and the snake tattooed along the side of her neck writhed.

The troupe is half human, half Underpeople, though June’s as human as they come. The latter hate flame, most of them, it’s hardwired in. Most of them faded towards the back of the crowd and one of the mini elephants squealed admonition in the scuffle of movement.

Roto was the only one who came forward. His eyes were wide and panicked, his lips curled back in alignment to his stiffly leaning ears, his whiskers silver lines against his dark cheeks.

He said, “Meg, what’s happening?”

It was so unfair. How was I supposed to know what was happening? I didn’t have a clue. I opened my mouth to say that, but all that came out was an agonized shriek, even though I felt no physical pain. It was just a howl of frustration and want and loneliness, all the loneliness of having the circus as my family but no one mine, no one bound to me by blood, so I never knew where I’d fit.

Something cool around my shoulders. June, wrapping me in a silvery blanket.

“I need you to take a deep breath,” she said.

I tried, but the sound kept coming out.

She laid her hand over mine. “Breathe.”

Flames danced over her skin where it touched mine. The blue fabric of her jacket began to smolder, flaring orange and sparking along the line of the hem.

“Breathe.“

Nothing physical but that coolness against my back, as though the blanket were drawing the flame inside it. But in my head, something slammed down so all my consciousness went to breathing, to the act of pulling in the air, feeling it rush into me, my ribs dwelling to contain as much as possible, holding it for a beat and then releasing…

“Okay,” June said. “Okay, Meg.”

I blinked. The flames were gone, but the hem of her jacket still flared orange one last second before dying away.

“You’re tired. I’m putting you in Nursie.”

I tried to protest. Riding in Nursie was boring beyond belief. One of her settings had gone wonky and she treated everyone as though they were a six-year-old. But at the same time, I realized, it sounded so good, lying down in darkness and not thinking for a while.

Before I knew it, I was tucked in Nursie’s depths. Vanilla scented mist sprayed down around the couch.

“Now I’m going to tell you the story of the Brave Little Kitten,” she announced.

That was all right. At least it was one of the comprehensible stories. But something else caught my attention. I rolled closer to the hatch opening, trying to hear out.

Outside, June shouting.

“All right! These fellows either lair nearby or they’re affiliated with the town.”

Nursie said, “Once upon a time “””

“Wait,” I said. “Nursie, can I have a drink of water first?”

The story paused as a cup rattled into the dispenser and began to fill.

June said, “Either way, we can’t go back “” you know that as well as I “” and it’s better to make these disappear and keep moving rather than have others come look and find us with them.”

Muffled agreement. Nursie said, “Drink your water, Meg.”

I drank it as slowly as I could, but all I heard were doors slamming and engines starting again. I felt dizzy. It was hard to swallow.

Warm vanilla sprayed me again as I set the cup down.

Nursie said, “Blood pressure dropping.”

Something snaked from the ceiling towards me. I heard Nursie’s voice, as though from a very far distance. “Administering sedation.”