Marketing Madness

July 17, 2014July 17, 2014 / Gin Getz / 16 Comments

Truth is, I’ve had little time for marketing since the release of my second book, The Last of the Living Blue. Probably all for the better. For my sanity, if not for sales.

“The books will sell themselves,” some say. I’m not so certain. I’ve always been a big believer in the direct correlation between hard work and success. But I’m also learning this. I’m not a salesman, don’t make a good one, and don’t care to be one. I’m a writer, and a rather quiet, solitary sort. I’m a writer because I love to write – not because of some calling to sell myself and my work. However, I do write for others to read… Thus, the dilemma.

So, if sales are up to me (and it appears they are) well, looks like I’m not going to be retiring from my day job any time soon. I never thought cleaning cabins or digging ditch would be my calling either, but by now I know I’m damn good at both, so might as well…

Food for thought.

Live a life worth writing about.

Find your inspiration in your world.

There is always a story around me to share.

Take the time to listen. To see and feel… and write.

The one rule I’ve always believed in for writing: write regularly, and write well.

So, life goes on.

House building, the summer social scene (yes, would you believe, even way the heck up here – this time of year, at least?), back to work on Ginny’s book, and waiting out the monsoon storms before placing another log on the wall of the new cabin. Horse work is on the back burner this year, and ditch work put off until the monsoons settle down. And still there’s no shortage of work. Only a shortage of daylight and personal energy.

Simple living. I once read a quote by Dave Ramsey that went something like this: “Live like no one else now so you can live like no one else later.” I think it’s safe to say I know no one else who lives like us. Not in this country at least. Years ago, we decided it made more sense to move out and camp for the summer, rent out our big house. Then we sold that, and moved out for good. Now, we’re down at the Little Cabin. If you stop by, it might look romantic. A tiny one room log cabin over the Rio Grande. Candle light, cozy, a cute outhouse nearby complete with crescent moon cut out on the door we leave open only when we’re in there. The view down river is too good to miss.

Then there’s the reality of sponge baths and doing dishes in a bucket on the picnic table. Three of us in a whole house smaller than most of your bedrooms and some of your bathrooms. Peeing out in the rain. Digging through a box under the bed for a change of clothes (it’s easier to just wear the same old thing – heck, clean clothes are going to get dirty sooner or later). Hauling water. An abundance of dirt and bugs. A step above camping. At least we have solid walls. Not quite a solid foundation. The northeast corner is taking a dive and the over easy eggs in the cast iron pan on the wood cook stove I fry up in the morning always make a left hand turn.

Yes, we’re building bigger. (There’s a lot to be said for a toilet and kitchen sink…) And we’re building it ourselves. And that, my friend, might be yet another book!

That said, I thought I’d share this on my blog for all fellow writers and anyone else who’s interested. This stems from a conversation with a friend/fellow author who asked me to share my secrets for selling books. I had to laugh. I have no secrets, and don’t sell a lot of books! However… I have made a few observations, and for him and anyone else interested, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months in which I’ve had two books published. (Seriously, has it just been six months? Okay, Gin, you can take a deep breath, and relax… before you get back to work!)

I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and have only touched the tip of the iceberg of this topic. Still, it’s a lot to take in, so please take your time. Skim it over now, maybe come back and read in depth when you have the time. Then please, share with me (and other readers/writers) your thoughts on this after you’ve had time to read and think it over.

Marketing Madness

Reading, writing, publishing, marketing. The wide world of books. It’s all a changing game. What worked once is no longer certain. What worked yesterday may not work today, and if it works today, please don’t count on it to tomorrow. And no one has the answers.

So, what do we do? Follow each passing fancy? Or stick with what you believe in. Be true to yourself. Honor your work. And keep on writing.

I use the term “Marketing Madness” because I swear it is enough to drive you mad – or make you mad – if you let it. Or you can turn your back and walk away, but that’s probably not the best answer either. Because the bottom line is this: you wrote a good book, and people will want to read it. So, marketing, in its simplest sense, is letting people know about your book (or whatever product you are trying to market). It’s reaching people, which really is what writing is all about anyway. Only different…

The Rules.

In this changing day and age of publishing, we writers by default must learn about marketing, yet the marketing stage is hardly set. There’s no clear road to follow. We are all forming it as we go along. There are no set rules, and we’re forging new ways all the time. Learning from others – sharing what has worked, what has not – helps tremendously. If nothing else than by opening up ideas we may have not yet considered. And giving each other the well needed pat on the back, simple encouragement to keep on going. Just the same, remembering that what worked for one may not work for another, and/or the game may have changed yet again by the time you try it.

I personally find this marketing thing difficult and frustrating. I feel I am selling myself when all I want to do is write. Yes, I know, terribly idealistic. So, we learn, we grow, we try, and we know there is no fairy godmother that’s going to wave her magic wand and suddenly we’ll have everything we ever dreamed of, sales like Steven King, be all we want to be, find ourselves as an overnight success and talking about our latest book with Oprah on TV.

The Big Secret?

I hate to break the news. So far, I found there isn’t one. It’s about hard work, like it or not. And it’s up to each of us. No one will do it for you. Someone may point you in the right direction, but chances are, they won’t even hold your hand or carry you there. If you’re lucky (and you know I think luck is made up of hard work… and a good dose of, ah, guts) they’ll give you a helping hand if you’ve fallen down.

It’s up to each of us to get our name out there, our books sold, and establish a market presence. And we find out, it’s not that painful after all. Especially if it means people are reading our books, which is why we’ve done all this work anyway.

Does it ever stop? Not from what I hear. So… we have to get used to it. Find our own style. Like with finding our own voice in writing, perhaps we have to find our own way to succeed in marketing.

Sharing Ideas.

I would love to share more and learn more on this topic which isn’t always the most fun to address, but matters to all of us authors trying to get established in this crazy, changing world. We all can learn and even enjoy with the support and encouragement of each other.

I enjoy bouncing ideas back and forth and learning from others. Yes, these are interesting times and I realize there are no set rules – we’re in a very changing game here, and want to learn all I can, but be smart about my choices. I do not want to ever devalue my work and be a 99cent seller. I would like readers to read my work because it’s good, not because it’s cheap. Likewise, I have not heard one positive confirmation that paying for publicity or marketing works wonders. Let me know if you’ve heard otherwise. Save your money, and get to work.

If I’m good, sales will come in due time – but not by sitting on my hands. Hard work does not frighten me, and I don’t believe in fairy tales.

The truth: Be true!

I’m thinking there are other things we can do beside compromise our integrity. Get the word out our way – sincerely, honestly, and ourselves. Slowly, but surely. Blogging, giveaways, personal appearances, personalize anything/everything, like correspondence, and writing everyone back. Treat our readers with respect, and trust they will in turn respect our work.

I’m not finding sure fire answers. I guess there are none. Yet I shall always believe one can build success on a combination of sincerity, belief in your work, and working hard.

So far, here is what I’ve learned in these past six months about marketing in a nutshell.

What’s worked for me:

– Blogging. It’s me. It’s real. It’s sincere. I’ve been told what I do is not “proper blogging.” My posts are too long, too personal, too rambling. Yes, that’s me. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Though after six years at it, I’ve not only established a decent following of over a thousand people who care and I in turn have learned to care for, I have met many a real people because of blogging. Friends. Fellow writers, readers. People I converse with on a first name basis, and know the name of their wife, kids, dogs, and the town they grew up in. This is good stuff.

– Facebook. But minimally and with caution. It’s shallow. It caters to those who would rather “like” the latest picture of my pup than read real news, though so many of us turn to it to find some happy medium of keeping up to date and not losing touch with friends and family. I have no interest is posting selfies and telling you what I ate for dinner, but I will share my latest book and building news and blog posts. I found this summer I don’t have (or take) the time to look at the feeds, so I’m probably failing at the FB game now. I no longer look into what other folks have put up. I’m sorry. If you really want me to know, write me. I respond if I’m written to personally but otherwise, the random checking into other people’s lives has lost its interest for me when I barely have time for a bath.

– Reviews. Do your darndest to get folks to read and review. Ask people. Be personal. Don’t send out a mass mailer, but a personal note. Give them your book. You’re not asking a favor – you’re sharing a gift. Though… getting them to POST those reviews, well, that’s not always easy. Everyone is busy. Respect that. Then bug them to get it done!

– Endorsements. Take a chance – ask! I am wonderfully surprised by the person who could have hit “delete” but instead said “sure” versus the colleague I swore would have been interested but now can’t find a minute to write me back (Note to self: Be the person you want to work with! Treat EVERYONE with respect, and respond in kind.)

– Giving away pdf copies. It doesn’t cost you anything, but you get people to read it. If it’s good, and it better be or you don’t want your name on it, they’ll like it, and they’ll spread the word. Slowly but surely. Trust this one. The more readers, the better. Give it away! Maybe you lost one sale, but chances are, you’ll get a whole lot more because of it.

– Book signing. Once again, anything personal. I’m proud of my book. I want to share it. I’m shy and thought this would be torture, but it’s not. Readers are good people. Share your time and enthusiasm with them.

– Going beyond local and finding your niche. My local following… isn’t. More of my readers are from far and wide. I’m proud of this. Look far and wide. Not everyone works best from their front door. Find which way works best for you.

What didn’t work:

– Anything close to home. I’m not a social person or part of the nearby community, so this should not come as surprise to me that they didn’t care that one of their “locals” was being published. I thought suddenly they’d care. They didn’t.

– GoodReads. Their giveaways and support for authors. Not yet, at least, though I’m not done trying. So far what I found is that they attract quantity, not quality. And they are attracting a younger market than my readers. I know my readers and most would rather curl up with a book than sit at the computer surfing social media. Though, some of them do that too…

– Writing groups? I don’t have time…

– Twitter and other social media. Once again, I’d rather be sincere and be me. It’s not my style, my audience or my way of reaching out.

Getting Readers.

Of course this is the bottom line. And it’s not as easy as one would think.

You write to be read. So, you write a great story, but really – who has time to read now a days? Seriously – like remember the old summer reading list? Now we’re all too tied up and life’s too complicated and sitting down with a good book seems a million miles away most days.

And if there are readers out there, which I still believe there are, how do you reach them? Well, that’s what this is all about, this marketing madness thing.

And that’s where reviews come into play.

Getting Reviews.

This is a big one, and tops the list for “to do” because it really does matter. Though I honestly haven’t figured out why yet. I’ll let you know if/when I do. For now, I just know this. It’s a numbers game, maybe, but it’s not a bad or evil one, I don’t feel compromised, I just try to encourage readers to share (and post) their reviews.

Try anyway. Keep trying. Give away. The more you give, the more you get. That’s nothing new – we should all know that already.

How do you go about getting reviews? Start by asking. Personally. And then, you got it, follow up. It’s a bit of a dilemma. People promise. They mean well. But at the end of the day, where the heck are the reviews and the reviewers? Seriously, getting people to post reviews can be like getting water from a rock. (Once again, note to self: treat others how you wish to be treated! I’ve learned to post positive reviews for writers who could use them, and deserve them!)

There are places you can actually pay people to review your book. Let me know if that works for you. I haven’t done this and have no intention of trying. Maybe I’m a cheap skate, but I believe my writing is good enough that I don’t need to pay someone to read it. I think the point is, I want someone to WANT to read my books. And I want the right people to read my books, not some random person who is just doing it for the money. It might be the slower way of doing things, but once again, for me, it’s the sincere route, and the way I’ve chosen. I’m not going there. Not unless you convince me otherwise.

Reviews matter. They are important numbers our industry (books/publishing) bases our success upon. They help other readers find books, choose books. They need not be elaborate or fancy. Some are. That’s great. Some aren’t. And that’s great too. Not everyone wants to read a long one (or write a long one). Although those long one do help the curious book explorer understand their selection well, those short and to the point ones matter too. One of my favorites, from reviewer Lisa: “Damn good read.” That works for me!

Social Media

Of course I need to elaborate on this. It’s a huge topic, but I’d like to put it in its place and keep it small and manageable. I personally think that’s all it is worthy of. I am, after all, not a social butterfly. The following is based on a conversation with fellow writer, Kayann Short.

Social Media is hot right now. It’s new, news, ever changing… and flaky. You can play the game and go for the latest greatest, which may be something new and shiny next week, so stay on your toes. But if you do choose to play this game, ask yourself this… Is it you? Are you being sincere? Are you willing to give as much as you get? (Remember that 80/20 rule for those of us who use these things not just for entertainment, but for business: give 80 percent of the time and be lucky to get responses back the other 20.) Does it have substance? Are the people hooked on social media your readers, your target market? I wonder.

On the other hand, would the impact and importance of community involvement, writers groups (personal networking, etc) as well as writers and readers working together (as in book events, signings, etc), be more valuable than randomly reaching the masses impersonally with spam and twitter?

Is social media the modern way and the way of the future for writers? I don’t think so. I think it’s fickle. And I don’t want to be.

I’m not saying I’m ruling it all out. I’m open minded, just hesitant. I’m trying to learn the new rules, but I see too much fly by night, flitter, twitter, missing a backbone, spineless, give it a try, let it go, and try something new… The latest, greatest, bubble gum burst lasts about as long as that flavor… That’s my hard, harsh take on social media so far.

Personal Appearances

This is my style. Keep it personal. Be real, be me. Book signings, community events, anything personal. Get to know your readers, and the bookstores.

I was petrified of doing this at first. But it’s not as painful as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s really FUN. And an incredible opportunity to share, meet, learn.

Learn from your readers.

Learn what touches people.

Learn who your readers are!

Keep it personal – that’s my rule of thumb. I hope I’m always open to hear from my readers. There’s a lot to learn if you’re willing to listen. And you might even meet some great folks along the way. Icing on the cake, but what would a cake be without it?

Writer’s Leagues, Groups, Conventions

Support groups?

Writers Anonymous!

No, really, there are some amazing groups, organizations, leagues… Join! Participate! Share! There’s something to learn from everyone if you’re willing to listen. Find your niche, and find like minds or at least, like markets. Share ideas. Listen to what others are going through, and share what you’ve learned. I’m new to all this and learning all the time but am learning it’s fun – you’re dealing with other writers. And they’re in the same boat you are in, paddling madly to get to the other side and still looking at the same side of the river bank.

Help each other out, and maybe the tide will be more likely to turn.

What’s next?

Do you want to find and follow the next trend, or learn what works best for you and develop your own style? I’m big on being sincere, true to myself, true to my readers. All I can do is hope that in the long run, this approach will pay off.

I don’t want to be silly thinking my books will sell themselves, nor turn into a door-to-door salesman when what I am is a writer. We each must find what works best for each of us, I suppose, but certainly be willing to work. Ultimately, I want to be sincere. I still have to look in the proverbial mirror at the end of the day, and I want to like the person I see staring back at me.

What works for you? What ideas and suggestions do you have? Any advice you’d like to share? What are your thoughts on Marketing Madness?

Please take a moment to leave a comment so we all can learn from each other. Or if you prefer, you can always write me personally at gingetz at gmail dot com.

Good News.

June 27, 2014 / Gin Getz / 10 Comments

Wow! We’re live on Amazon!

The Last of the Living Blue is available NOW– in paperback and Kindle. Amazing – three days ahead of schedule!

Okay, Reviewers: Now you can post your reviews! Please, when you can… your help is so appreciated and truly needed.

And speaking of Reviewers:

Sammie has wonderfully offered to extend the opportunity: A free paperback copy of The Last of the Living Blue in exchange for posting a review. If you would like to take her up on this very generous offer, please write her at sammie@norlightspress.com, and be sure to give her your mailing address. Sammie is super – there are no strings attached – this is just a way of spreading the word, sharing, and generating more interest for a book we both believe in. Seriously, reviews do matter. Please take the time to share and post. Most importantly, I hope you read this new book, and I hope you love it.

I’m told you’re not supposed to get too attached to your work. Too late. I am. It is a part of me. It is my gift to you.

This one matters so much to me. This one is for the trees…

Thank you all for your kindness and support, for reading, sharing, listening, inspiring… I am just so happy right now! Thank you!!!

Giveaways!

June 26, 2014June 26, 2014 / Gin Getz / 6 Comments

Hi friends. Here are a couple of neat opportunities for getting a free copy of my next book, the soon to be released The Last of the Living Blue!

First, my publisher, Sammie of NorLights Press, is offering a release day promotion. For the first ten people who contact her directly, she will send a hard copy of the paperback book in exchange for posting a review.

Please write Sammie at sammie@norlightspress.com.

Second, GoodReads is running a Giveaway from now through the first of July. You can sign up by following this link, but remember, you have to be a member of GoodReads to enter.

Reviews are so essential for spreading the word, and we’re pretty certain this book is going to be a great one. So the more copies of the book we can get out there, and reviews coming in, the better for us all.

Less than a week away!

Have you read the first book yet?

(You can order it here on Amazon, or better yet, please support your local bookstores!)

Good luck, and happy reading!

PS. A quick note and afterthought on Reviews.

Reviews matter. They are important numbers our industry (books/publishing) base our success upon. They help other readers find books, choose books. But they need not be elaborate or fancy. Some are. That’s great. Some aren’t. And that’s great too. Not everyone wants to read a long one (or write a long one). Although those long one do help the curious book explorer understand their selection well, those short and to the point ones matter too. One of my favorites, from reviewer Lisa: “Damn good read.” That works for me!

It’s about me.

June 18, 2014June 20, 2014 / Gin Getz / 12 Comments

It’s about me.

I’m on the steep grass hillside up the Ute Ridge trail looking north. Gunnar is next to me, sitting, watching. Haven’t seen another person since I left the ranch. There are big fat clouds randomly shading the open expanse of water and the cradling hills on either side. Not dark clouds. They hold no weight. I don’t think it’s going to rain. With all this wind whipping the earth dry again, I sort of wish it would. I packed a jacket just in case. You can’t see far. The last mountain range is blurring into obscurity by blown up sands or silt from the charred hillsides down river.

I think the last time I was here was when we silently watched the smoldering remains of the Papoose Fire on the other side of the Rio Grande Reservoir. Seems like a long time ago. This time last year. There were no cars on the road when I looked down then like there are now, leaving a trail of pale brown dust in their wake long after they have passed.

Random notes on the Season and Life.

Big snow banks getting small. The river is going down. Now it’s as high as I’ve ever seen high waters in the dozen years before this. June winds so strong we hope the outhouse doesn’t blow over again. My skin is wind burned and eyes are bloodshot from working out there in it all day and there is too much to do to stay inside.

Progress on the new cabin. The floor joists are measured carefully, cut in the wind with sawdust flying, and securely screwed in place, blocked and insulated. I can’t wait to start with the logs. Almost there…

We’re a good team. Not a day passes without my thinking I’m the luckiest lady alive to be out their building a home with my boys. A real home this time.

Nineteen degrees in the morning and those spectacular wild iris on pasture froze, gave up and surrendered, folding over purple face down. Up here, it’s hard on wildlife, harder still to garden.

Roaring wind and raging

water

A fervent embrace

From the wild beast

within

While around me

Remains of last

season

Circle about courting me

In a whirlwind dance

Of tangled life and

death

Before me on the little table that contains three steaming coffee cups, remnants of last night’s dinner, our open laptap computers, and promises of the breakfast to come. And in that clutter, my proof copy of The Last of the Living Blue! It’s beautiful – what a wonderful job NorLights Press has done again. Thank you, Sammie. Some time between setting the plywood over floor joists and riding in to check the ditch, I’ll read (at least, skim) it over one more time (yes, one more damn time… by tomorrow) and then off it goes to press. Yippeee!

Oh, so that part about me?

Well, it started with this.

At the Tattered Cover event last week where I was promoting my first book, The Color of the Wild. The event, on a side note, and much to my surprise, was quite fun. A super big THANK YOU to all those who joined me, turned out, showed support, listen and talked with me, and to the many wonderful new faces I was able to meet. Anyway, in the presentation, I touched on this, with regards to writing memoir:

“Memoir is a medium for sharing intimate views – in my case, besides my views of nature, I share glimpses into personal issues, losses, pain, sadness. And growth and good stuff too. Memoir allows introspection both for the reader and the writer… Sharing your world, exposing oneself, bleeding with words on paper… Ultimately, it all ends up being about words. I want my words to sound good. I want my writing to read well aloud.

“Yes, the story is about me. It’s my story, my view.

“On the other hand, memoir opens odd doors of others hoping/wishing/assuming it’s about them, so you learn to leave their concerns and comments behind, and focus on what you set out to do.”

Bottom line: This is my story. And most importantly, I hope, a well written one.

Alas, here I am with my second book coming out end of the month, something I humbly consider an achievement and accomplishment, and from what I’m seeing in the reviews and reception, it is well done. But around these parts, I’m more likely to hear, “Oh no, you’ve written another book” rather than “Right on, you’ve written another book.” Interesting. So much for celebrating and sharing in your victories. Sad but true.

The truth comes out. Who really cares about you? And… what kind of people are they, anyway?

Fortunately, part of growing up is choosing. I’m so grateful for the loving, caring, supportive family, friends and readers I do chose, and who have chosen me. Thank you. If I haven’t told you all before, I’m also so thankful for the kind notes those who have been touched by my writing have taken the time to share with me. That is the reason we write, share our words and world. That makes it all worthwhile.

Maybe you have heard that blood is thicker than water, as if that would solve matters, demand forgiveness, and make dysfunctional families okay. It doesn’t work for me. I can’t help but wonder: Since when is thick a good thing, a compliment, something to strive for, a positive personal quality?

Sometimes, blood is simply stickier than water. Know when to wash your hands.

On a personal note.

April 28, 2014 / Gin Getz / 11 Comments

Yes, it’s spring. Exposed dirt. Not to say it’s thawed out. Broken pipes aren’t easy to get to and digging a fresh outhouse pit through a frost line that goes down five feet…

Anyway, that’s what kept me busy and out of trouble when the sun was shining. And now it’s not, and snow falls again.

And today, that which was exposed is covered again in white.

Right. Spring. What should you expect here in the high wild mountains of Colorado?

Enjoy it while you can. Before you know it, they’ll be a little less wild as the summer season unfolds and all the folks that come here to get away start to accumulate along with the miller moths, horse flies and hummingbirds pumped with sugarwater, and I am reminded that maybe the elements will always be easier for me to live with than people.

Arbor day. You plan on planting a few dozen trees because that is what you do. Plant trees.

Going against nature, I am reminded, in this time of dead and dying, and we pick up a shovel anyway and dig a hole and carefully place in a new sapling. You have to try. How could you not if you love the land? Look around and you’ll see the rein of the spruce tree has passed and the aspen have seen better days. Let’s try Cottonwood, I say. They say it’s too high and harsh up here, but it doesn’t take rocket science only a quick look around to get it. Things have already changed. And I’ll bet you it aint over.

So go ahead. Give life. Give it a try. Better than sitting around crying, complaining or pointing fingers. There’s already enough of that.

So plant a tree. Plant a dozen. A few dozen while you’re out there. Maybe they won’t make it. Maybe a few will. But at least you’re out there trying. I was thinking of this as I’m looking across river at a hillside of dead and dying. Sure it will always be beautiful. But there’s more to it than beauty. I’m forever reminded of the shallowness of a pretty face when what I want is a deep connection. With my trees, there is a problem. Do I want to be so superficial and sit there with a stupid smile and say, “Well, gee… at least it’s still pretty.” Turn my back and leave it at that. Or do I want to address the problem, look it in the eye and still love it? Face the facts? Of course, that means finding out what the facts are first. Not always easy, but easier if we try.

A tease of open ground. Slow to come, but spring of the land and soul inevitably arrive.

Now with the world white again, outside work is put on hold. Inside I catch up on correspondence.

The lost art of letter writing. If you write letters are you a writer? In this day and age when even talking on the telephone takes too much time and people just drop a text or twitter a line, I would say yes, indeed. Some of those with whom I correspond clearly are writers (though perhaps unknown and unpublished), thus their correspondence is beautiful to read. Those who shared and with whom I shared – you’ll know who you are, and I hope you know how you’ve inspired me. From the balance of my daily early morning ramblings with a friend a generation and a thousand miles but in both respects feel closer, as in right there, with me, sharing another cup of coffee… to people who I’ve never met and who have come to feel they know me through my writing and I have learned to know them through our letters … to my “extended” family in Argentina… sisters of sorts for me – older and younger – one so grounded in her solid stance of silence and hard work and familiar dirt beneath her nails, to the other with a spirit in the air, a bit ethereal and ever stirring like the wind and just as suddenly she’ll breeze into your life and pick you up and take you on a magic carpet ride. So you hold onto your hat though really, you never even leave the sofa where you’re sitting to write.

And it is in this back and forth of revealing bits and pieces of our lives through words, giving, taking, sharing what we can and maybe a little more than we think we have but then we realize we have so much more – in this we find an unlimited pool of grace and gratitude and compassion within ourselves often left untapped. And through such correspondence do we learn to at the very least brush our hand to the surface and see the reflection is not just me but we. And if we are brave enough, we dive in. (Or even slip in by mistake, but there we are, swimming in the silver pool and realizing the waters hold us up.)

Much of what I share with you is inspired by my conversations with them. I share in turn here at best in hopes of inspiring you, and at the least, as reminders for myself… For that’s what this blog means to me. Two things, really. A way to reach out, share, open my world inside and outside and give of myself what I can – and a piece in progress, an inspiration for myself of work, word and image. I hope this is okay.

On writing and the blues…

Once your first book is out, suddenly you’re an expert. Of course this is not true. I’m just as confused and curious as I always was, and probably always will be. I’ll never be that know-it-all and let-me-tell-you-how-it’s-done type of person. Though there are times I wish I had a little of that in me and believed in myself a little more.

Some things never change?

Anyway, what I read out there from authors who have “succeeded” (this too, of course being a relative term as we all define success differently) is expert advice and opinions. I won’t go there. But I will share a little personal insight, because that’s my way, what I write about any way. Only now too I can share with you a glimpse into the insight of one insecure author whose first book is doing pretty well and is still having a helluva time getting the next ones out. (When does it get easier? DOES it get easier?)

They told me this might happen. Like post partum depression, they said, but without the hormones as an excuse (though we women, you know, can always blame it on the hormones…).

They warned me I might feel deflated, vulnerable and over exposed.

They warned me that when the first book comes out, you start to see who really cares. Readers can be more supportive than family and friends who often are too terribly busy, and busier when you ask. And how beautiful when those dearest to you can prove to be so caring, like my husband who never was a reader before but manages to read most every word I put out there now. Then there are those that suddenly don’t know you anymore, and certainly don’t have time any more. Funny how many just don’t have time. Just the reminder I need when I’m tired and think taking a day off would be the thing, then remember those who are waiting on my response and that matters more to me. And somehow giving more, being the person I want to be, treating others how I wish to be treated, ends up being the best treatment I’ve found for the blues.

They warned me that all those folks that only call you when they need something, and if they don’t need something, well, you’ll hear nothing at all – you won’t hear from them for a while. It might be a little lonely, but as a writer, you need the alone time.

They warned me that things do change. Oh I know, I said, things always change. I just didn’t realize it would be this much.

The good news is that most people are primarily supportive of each others’ strengths (and weaknesses when need be), celebrate one anothers victories and pick each other up when we’ve failed.

We will all do both, won’t we?

In the works… about books.

The summer book tour for The Color of the Wild will begin with a special event at Denver’s Tattered Cover historic LoDo location on June 12, 2014 at 7 pm as part of the Rocky Mountain Land Series.

Hoping to have book two close to ready for you to read by then, book three in the grind of editing, and that novel roaring to life.

In the meanwhile, I need to continue my marking efforts and asking you for help. Okay, here it goes. Please read it, buy it, share it, spread the word and talk about it: The Color of the Wild.

For those who received review copies, another friendly reminder that review copies are shared for reviews. If you haven’t shared a review yet, it’s never too late. GoodReads is good, social media is great, Amazon is super helpful. Write me and ask if you have questions on how. I’m happy to help.

Oh, and on the 2^nd and 3^rd of May, there will be an author interview of yours truly posted on Indie House Books.

Now, time to get back to what I do best. Better than marketing. Writing. Have a good week, all.

What’s coming.

April 7, 2014 / Gin Getz / 7 Comments

A request for readers and reviewers! Of special interest to writers and avid readers of non-fiction. This request is on behalf of my publisher and friend, Sammie Justesen. Wouldn’t you know? She’s also a writer…

A select group of pre-readers willing and able to share reviews is a great help for the writer and the publisher, as well as for other readers considering this book in the future. Ever notice how much time you take to read reviews and how much it helps you? Your help on this one would be most appreciated by others.

I was honored to have the opportunity to read a pre-published copy, and this is what I had to say about it:

“Sammie may have set out to write about dialogue – and that she does – yet her conversation with the reader goes far beyond. Dialogue Mastery for Writers is about writing, for writers, written by an author, editor and publisher.

I was hesitant to read another ‘how to’ book on writing. This is not that. Nor is it strictly about dialogue. As a memoir and nature writer, I was attracted to Dialogue Mastery for inspiration in developing further depth in my work through the use of dialogue. What I left with after reading Sammie’s book is a brain swimming with ideas she has generously shared based on her years of experience in all aspects of ‘the industry.’ She shows us, not just tells us, with style, humor and an easy, comfortable voice. Her examples bring the points to life. Sammie indeed practices what she preaches, and shares with us as reader and writer a fun to read and handy compilation based on experience and insight.”

This is a great opportunity for those of you who’d like a chance to read this book on writing, and begin a conversation with fellow writer , former agent, editor and experienced publisher, Sammie Justesen.

If you are interested, would like some more information, or just want to introduce yourself to this great woman, please write her an e-mail at: sammie@norlightspress.com . Thanks in advance for helping out!

A dozen winters we have watched fade from the mountain as spring slowly creeps up the thawing land. I can’t say it really feels like it’s here yet, but if you know what you’re looking for, you see it coming.

It’s coming.

Not a day goes by without the magnificence touching me. Some days, it is overwhelming. Stops you in your tracks and your breath is held, eyes wide, and you want to cry for the sheer splendor of it all. Other times, softly, lightly, a little bit magical and mysterious, as this morning when the I’m out there feeding the horses in the single digits after a dusting of fresh snow came last night and clouds are still clearing , and each branch of the aspen and surface of tired snow covering the ground is twinkling as if with a thousand stars around me as the sun inches over Finger Mesa and spreads long stripes of grey shadows nearly a quarter mile long across pure white from the tall trees that stand alone across river.

Not a day goes by without appreciation. And now, astonishment.

Interesting indeed the things we are seeing.

The swollen buds on a group of Aspen at the bottom of Elk Trail have burst open, pushing out the first of that fluff that looks like snow in June. Only it’s April. And there is still real snow on the ground.

On an open patch of dirt a little further up the trail, the first cluster of flag poke up through the exposed damp ground covered only now with last years rot.

We snowshoe to Snowmobile Point. That’s a lot of dead trees, I say to Bob as we stand there, leaning on our ski poles and staring. Crazy, he replies. There is nothing else to say.

You forget what a live one looks like and start to assume they all might be. For if you look close enough, even the green ones don’t look so good. I would guess that this mild winter has been good for the beetles. It will be fascinating what happens next. Something. Nothing stays the same.

Maybe it will look like Patagonia here some day. We agree that won’t be too bad. We like Patagonia.

Time with my horses is still limited. For a few days there was a little mud that gave me a lot of hope for working with them soon. That’s been since covered back up with snow.

At least I’m out there, day in, day out, every day, with them, for them. A part for me, a part of them. I don’t resort to automated horse handling, feed and water that the horse think just appears and I’m just some human somewhere in the distance that comes to get them when I need them. We’re in this, on the mountain, together. Waiting for the spring. Waiting for shedding coats and brushing and afternoons out there together on dry ground.

What do you do with them when you have to go somewhere? A friend asks. I don’t, I reply. I haven’t left the mountain in five months and that’s okay by me. And them. Only now we’re both ready for more. Not leaving. Just more up here.

They run up when I appear and kick up their heels and seem to tell me they’re angry at another snow storm and I don’t blame them. They are getting stir crazy. They need more now than snow and steady feeding. They want dry ground upon which to run and work to focus their energies and tire their minds, and sunshine and green grass on which to relax in the morning before hand.

Maybe it’s the longer days. They know spring is slowly approaching. And by the time it finally comes, will I be too busy building then to be with them?

Ramblin’ on writing.

March 28, 2014March 28, 2014 / Gin Getz / 19 Comments

Where I write. Here on a well worn leather sofa in a little log cabin. The only place sending smoke signals out there on a big wild mountain. A cat on one side, a dog on the other, with the sound of happy chicks scurrying about in the box by the front window, and a new batch of beer bubbling up in the loft. I’ve kicked the boys out into the snow, or it’s predawn hours and they’re still sleeping, but they’re definitely not around. I work best in relative silence. Nature’s noises don’t disturb me. Human ones do. I give the boys the boot. I think they love me anyway.

My first book was written early in the mornings, way before sun or son up, before the wood stove warmed the cabin and often in front of the campfire after the horses were put out to graze with a pen in my mittened hands and a pot of cowboy coffee percolating away in front of me.

I yearn for such silence and simplicity as my son is working at the kitchen table with machine parts spread about, and husband on the sofa across from me with his computer on his lap. The snow will melt soon. They’ll both be busy building then. Only thing is, I will be too.

Where can I go write? I ask them when the talk of snowmobiles and motors and mechanics can’t be drowned out by my over active imagination, and the wilds, though just outside the front door, seem so far away. Another guest cabin? Too cold. Outside? It’s snowing. So much for spring. Summer is short here, and still so far away.

Get over it, I remind myself. I write about my life. Live it. Then make the time to write. Even if that means setting the alarm for four in the morning and stumbling around in the dark.

And suddenly, the chatter of the boys fades into the background and doesn’t seem so distracting anymore and all I see are words before me, spilling across the page like a handful of sparkling sand in the wind.

Writing is a state within us, not a place around us.

A friend shared this article and it got me thinking. (Uh oh.)

On Networking: The Five People You Really Need

We all need a mentor. A champion. Someone who believes in us. Someone who will listen to our dreams and say, “Yes, you can…” and, “You can do it!” Maybe even show us how.

Most of us don’t have that. Usually in life, we find a lot of the opposite.

“Really, you shouldn’t.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I dunno if that’s the best thing to do.”

“Oh come on, get real…”

“Hmmmm… maybe you better not.”

How do we get it? That person to push us and help us make it happen. Because it can happen, you know. Whether they like it or not. Whether they help you or not. If you want to, you can.

And usually, if you start, even if you don’t find The One, you might just find a bunch of Little Ones instead. People will be far more likely to help you if you try. Not if you don’t. And not if you expect it, demand it, wait for it to come to you. Because that silver platter fantasy is about as unreal as Prince Charming.

Still, I tried, as many of us have, to find a mentor, a teacher, a guru. One that honestly cared and advised me accordingly. I reached out to people I admired. Rarely heard a word back. Read a bunch of books on “how to”. Even tried to hire a coach once, but she didn’t seem to think my dreams where practical. They aren’t. Practical is not on my list of priorities. Dreaming is. Besides, when you hire someone to “believe” and “care” you’re taking a helluva risk and need to accept that maybe it’s not going to happen.

You get bits and pieces here and there. Along the way, you know how it is, you meet someone who actually believes in you, encourages you, inspires you. An angel who pops in to your life, gets you where you need to go next, and POOF is gone.

Someone to remind me I can. On one hand, enough to keep me going. And on the other, little enough to make me say, fine, I am gonna do it on my own, even without a whole lotta help.

Of course there ends up being some help. None of us are really alone. Show me any person and if we look long enough, we’ll find a story about how someone else helped them, inspired them, motivated them. Something. No matter how small. Sometimes all we get is small. So it’s up to us to make it big.

So now what I am learning is this. Just because we didn’t really get it, doesn’t mean we can’t give it. We can. We can give what we didn’t get. We can be what we wish we knew. Yes, we can be that mentor. We all have a lot to give. So, give. Don’t hold back. Not too much. Enough to keep your sanity. Feed your family, get your work done first. But not so much you’re greedy with your time and kindness.

A word of caution. Don’t get milked dry. Find the balance of giving to someone who is going to take what you share and fly with it. Not the person who just wants it to hoard it away or add to their pile of plenty.

Here’s another way of looking at it. The more horses I work with, the better horseperson I become. In teaching them, I learn myself.

Give, try, reach out, share. Be the mentor you wish you had. You can’t go out and find one. You can’t even buy one. But you can be one. So start with that. And maybe then you’ll find what you were looking for.

Maybe. I’m still looking.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be an author. I haven’t met many who could help. Refer back to that “loneliest profession” thing. And still there were a few who came and left my life and did help along the way. Like Digger Doc, a teacher back in high school who told me I should write and kept me after class to share books with me that I had to read and I did. Soaking in the words of Nabakov, Orwell, Roth and Joyce, listening to their voice and dreaming of creating my own.

Many years passed. My writing left unlistened to. Starting the blog helped. Someone listened. Not a mentor, but at least a little audience. Someone who heard me. For them, I tried. I would wake in the mornings and sit in the dark while the house was still cold and take an hour of uninterrupted time and try. It was enough. From those dark mornings rose the first book, The Color of the Wild. And a growing audience. And a stronger voice.

Now I afford myself the luxury of writing after the sun is up (still on that well worn sofa) and there are things to do outside, but I can convince myself this is work now. This is real. At least sort of. But sort of is a start. And if I don’t make it into more, it won’t be. So I give it my all. The first book mattered to me in a way other writing – from the blog to published articles – did not. This is where I wanted to be.

Of course there is little satisfaction in arriving here because such is human nature, when we get where we were trying to go suddenly we realize what’s next, what else we want, where we want to go next.

The bear went over the mountain… Indeed.

Such is life for the curious mind, she says. So, get used to it, enjoy it, make the most of it.

We all could use help. Someone to believe in us, if not guide us. And here’s what I’m finding. Even if you can’t find someone directly to help you, start by helping yourself. Then maybe, just maybe, reach out and help someone else.

Anyone who’s spent enough time with me knows that tough as I may act on the outside, I’m about as insecure as they get inside. It’s really a problem at times. For me. For those around me. For those stuck with me and who still manage to love me (read: husband and son).

Maybe it was fear. Thinking the next book wouldn’t be good. A disappointment after a strong start. Maybe I’d be a one-shot wonder. One of those writers who only has one book in them, when what I want is a whole bookshelf in me. At least, a whole row. Right, I know, that’s asking a lot. But those who know me know that too. I tend to ask a lot of myself.

Anyway, I’m on it now. Editing the next one, getting it ready for submitting. And you know what – I like it. Boy is that a relief. When you put it aside, your intention is to put it out of mind. Well, try as you may it remains somewhere in that mind of yours, in the deep dark corners where the shadows lurk. And in that place, weird things happen. It can transform into something terrible. Our imaginations are both blessings and curses, aren’t they?

Well, I brought this one back into the light and I’m working it over again now. It’s not perfect. It’s not the Great American Novel (it wasn’t meant to be). But it’s a good read. I’m enjoying it. Fixing it up. Making it better. More of what it is, was meant to be. It’s a lot of work, but that doesn’t scare me. Bad work does.

Take the time it takes. Our choice is this: We can turn a handful of grapes into a little pile of raisins or a glass of fine wine.

I don’t know how fine this one will be, but at the moment, I’m enjoying the aroma, the taste, the color… It’s going to be okay. That helps me sleep better at night.

Finally, friends, this. I didn’t write it, but I read it. This one got me thinking too. (Uh oh, all over again.) If you enjoy reading, books, bookstores, here’s something to think about:

A Magical Place for Readers and Writers

So it’s spring.

March 24, 2014 / Gin Getz / 8 Comments

On the first day of Spring, Forrest atop the mountain behind our ranch, looking down our valley and beyond.

So it’s spring. Yes, here too. In spite of the single digit mornings and a pasture of unbroken white.

I remember what the season should bring, could bring. Rich soil turned up in garden beds, fresh linens from the line on our bed. Sweet sap running in the trees. Foals romping outside my window. I don’t have that here and now. None of it. Only memories. So strong I can smell the earth and the sweet sap and the new born baby’s breath.

It’s different here. Still spring, the emerging of warm earth from her frozen slumber, but here and now with a new set of definitions. Like the sighting of the rufous sided towhee scratching at the seeds I toss out beneath our picnic table, and awaiting the song of the frogs. Thinning snow that turns to slush in the afternoons and light so intense on the spring glazed surface even cloudy days seem blinding.

We learn to adjust. Human beings are remarkably adaptable, no matter how stubborn we may seem. No place is perfect. Thing about this place, with all the trials and tribulations to get here and stay here: it’s ours. That means something to me. More so with each passing year, growing connection, memories embedded in the soil. A glance around and I can point to what fence we built, cabin remodeled, road or trail constructed, which mountain I climbed with which dog in what sort of weather. A board on the old bedroom door frame records Forrest’s growth in faded pencil marks, and generations of horses – mother, daughter, grandmother – await me at feeding time.

Out on a snowshoe alone with the dog. Gratitude. It’s easy to find it here. Ten things a day, a friend and I prompt each other when we find ourselves forgetting. Yes, I do forget. The space, the light, the beauty, thin air, a mountain that looks as fancy as a wedding cake, solitude, silence but for spring winds and the opening river and birds. Yes, spring brings such song in the early mornings before the wind picks up and late in the afternoon as the shadows are tossed long and indigo upon sugary snow.

Living. Dying. This season. Every season.

I remember the dread that came with the risk of the open road bringing conflict and chaos along with cars. Now I await the open road as the open pasture when we can begin building our place on our land that we have fought for and won.

Bob takes the Cat down there in the afternoon slush and cuts through the open white. The first step towards breaking ground. Frost just below surface. We are early still.

And I remember the fear that hung heavy in the spring storms back then with each birth. I would rather not remember. I turn my attention to the mob of chicks scampering about in the giant dog crate between the planters of newly spread lettuce seed and the grass for the cats and dog. Their happy chirps blending with the melody from the various birds feeding at the picnic table right outside the window.

And now I know

the loss of none

As if I could remember

a babe crying to be nursed

And the sound of children’s laughter

The gentle nicker of the mare to foal

The song of two blue birds

on the top of a spruce tree still green

Where they first arrive here

every year.

The sap won’t run this year.

At times emptiness is a relief.

Now I know what is beneath the slipping bark.

I take out the draw knife for the first time this season. Peeling a small log needed for a remodel project on a neighbor’s bathroom. With every pull of the knife, tiny white life revealed. Ten, twenty, maybe more. Slicing through life. Larva.

I know it’s crazy but still I feel sadness. I am taking life. Can I look at them as the enemy? Who is to blame? I daresay, not the beetles.

Will every log I peel for our house reveal the same?

I need a shower. Rid myself of their remains which has stuck onto my skin, in my hair, my jeans after working out in the wind.

Author’s Update.

With regards to The Color of the Wild, much thanks to all of you readers who posted reviews – what a wonderful help you have been – and for those writers who took the time to share reviews and interviews on their web sites and blogs, especially:

Amy of SoulDipper

Carrie of The Shady Tree

Ray from New Book Journal

Kat from Indies Unlimited

More big news this week is that I just got the word that a select number of Barnes and Nobles bookstores will be stocking The Color of the Wild on their shelves. Please take a look at your local store and let me know if you see it there!

As for what’s next… Patience (I tell myself). It’s in the works. Two so close to completion, but we’re not there yet. And I’m not ready to be there. No, it’s not fear. Crazy? Maybe.

This is where my attention should be – getting the next one finished up and ready to go – and yet I find myself shunning the process, intentionally. I’m not ready. Isn’t that strange? It is not lack of words, as you, dear reader, can see. It is something else. I need more time. I need to find a balance between pushing myself, and holding back. With distance comes understanding. It’s not reading the same thing over and over. It allows me to see it all anew. To pick up the manuscript with a fresh perspective and a bright, eager mind. Editing need not be a chore. It can be a pleasure – if you love what you wrote. And if you don’t , here’s your chance to fix it, and fall in love all over again.

I don’t know how it is for other writers, but for me, I am learning it has to do with trust in timing. Trust and timing. And knowing when to take a break. To step back before diving in head first… Then take a deep breath and go for it!

For now, I let it go. Brew like the beer. Though I’m starting to get thirsty.

Waiting for words to ripen.

It won’t be long before I open the pages up again, and maybe turn them into fine wine.

The thing about marketing.

March 4, 2014 / Gin Getz / 14 Comments

This picture has nothing to do with marketing, but it’s adorable, so I’m sharing. Twenty seven chicks arrive by snowmobile to our ranch yesterday afternoon. All night long, the house sounds like an early summer morning outside, inside. Now, they are somewhat settled and silent and I’m smiling… And all because of him…

About that marketing thing.

OK, so, you got a beautiful book in your hands, and you spent years getting it to this point (at least it took me years)… now what do you do about it? Because remember this: writers do not do all this work just to hold the pretty thing in our hands. We do it to share it. Yes, we must write for ourselves, to please ourselves, because we have something to say. But secretly (or otherwise) we hope someone is going to like what we write and how we write it.

So, that sharing… I think they call this part, technically: Marketing.

When I started not just writing since I’ve been doing that a long while, but getting close to actually publishing which is still brand new for me, I didn’t think this was part of it. The marketing part. Maybe most writers do not. I don’t think selling oneself is something that comes naturally to a writer. We can be a quiet sort. At least, I am. Though I’m surprised how much I can reach out. Maybe not enough. I know there are still some e-mails and hand written letters left without a response. I’m sorry. I hate doing that. Everyone matters. Everyone. If I don’t write back right away, chances are I may forget. Not that the person is not important, only that other things get piled on top and a few get buried below.

For some reason, getting the book out there matters to me. I’m going to guess this is not uncommon for authors. Not for the money, but for the acceptance. I want people to like my writing. That may be stupid, I know… but…

Do I write for me? Yes. Primarily. For I’ve found I won’t compromise. But I also write for others, or rather, hope they will like what I write. Does that make sense? If I had more confidence, and I am not so certain I ever will because I used to say, “Once I’m published, I’ll be more confident…” and I am not.

Right, so I know I need to learn not to let these things matter. But how do you feel so much and not let yourself get down? Feel less? How? And is that really what I want? When that is what my writing is so often about…

So, we market. Try to sell our book. Not for the money, but for the love. We want to be read like we want to be accepted. I can accept that.

The how-to’s of marketing include such obvious aspects as using social media, networking, asking friends for help, cold calling and following up warmly. I’m not going into that here and now for risk of trying to sound like a pro at something I am not. If we ever get a best seller and top the charts and I have something solid on the subject you want to hear, like, “Look what I can do,” great, I’ll give you that lecture then.

I have a very intimate, personal book and style of writing that’s not meant to appease the masses, and as my friend reminds me, I’m not looking to be Danielle Steel. My work is harder to sell on many levels. Not the least of which is this. It is a part of me. Onto the pages, I have bled. How do you sell a part of yourself?

Step back, and treat it like a business. Grow up and get over it. Stop taking it so darned personally.

As my publisher, Sammie, and I were discussing, this grassroots approach to marketing we are taking is based on (1) sincerity, (2) the expectation that one must give more than one will receive in social medias and networks, and (3) keeping it personal. That said, one must learn to draw the line and not give too much of oneself. That is a tricky matter. Balancing our sense of giving, sharing and self preservation. Our tendency can be to give too much, try too hard. And the end of day, you’ll know if you’ve gone too far. Look in the mirror and see if you’re still smiling. (For the record, I was not last night.)

Finding the right outlets in which to share is essential. There are so many out there, so many options, suggestions, ideas, directions… and if you tried them all, you’d spread yourself thin and more often than not, fall through the ice. Or maybe be barking up the wrong tree.

I think it always comes down to this: sincerity. And ultimately it is our words that will share themselves.

All in due time.

This marketing thing has brought me tremendous ups and downs this week. Insecurities and celebrations sharing the same days. A sense of feeling very lost.

This is ridiculous. My poor boys. Heck, poor me!

So the rest of plan is this. I’m calling it quits. I am done with this part for now. I have another few days of contacts I promised myself (and Sammie) I’d reach out to and give it a shot and then I’m going back to what I do best. Writing.

Until I get a second wind. Or new ideas. And try my hand at marketing again.

Oh, and yes. Rough draft of book three? Check. Done!

Writer’s lament.

March 3, 2014 / Gin Getz / 13 Comments

I once read that writing is the loneliest profession. One must love to be alone to choose to write. Or at least learn to tolerate it, or you won’t get much written. I write best in total silence and solitude. Days like to today, when the boys are off on another adventure, snowmobiling together in their Very Big Back Yard this side of the Divide, now is the time to write.

Completing the first draft of my third book.

And tonight I will celebrate!

Tomorrow I will put that manuscript aside to brew and ferment, bubbling and gurgling in the dark corners of my mind while again my focus returns to finish the story I was working on this time last year. A Story of Two Virginias. It has had its time to percolate. Now it is time to pop open the lid, stir it up, and see what we’ve got.

Don’t plan on kicking back, sipping and savoring the aroma.

More like: Right. Time to re-write.

Back to the beginning. The first book. The Color of the Wild…

I finally got it!

Before the storm, or maybe in the middle of it, by snowmobile Bob brings home a box from town, and there inside are a dozen hard copies of my book. My first book. It is beautiful. Wow. Sammie, Dee, Nadene… my friends at Norlights Press… it really is beautiful. Thank you. My first signed copy goes to Forrest. Maybe now he’ll read it.

So, here it is, finally. On my coffee table, a book with my name on it. Forget how many years it took to get here. It’s here. There, alongside a book of poetry from Wendell Berry, and a new copy of Leopold’s A Sand County Almanac, and a well worn copy of John Palmer’s How to Brew. I like it. I could get used to this. I hope I do. Hopefully this is the first of many.

By this morning, I already see dog hair, dried crumbs and spots of red wine on the cover. It’s a part of the house. Old news. Time to move to the next…

But not so fast… I used to think it worked like that. (And believe me, I wish it did!) All I had to do was write. But now I’m learning about this marketing thing.

Wait. Before we go there. First, a few cold hard facts.

My awesome publisher and growing friend, Sammie, has started a blog. You can see it here: http://norlightspressblog.wordpress.com/. Writers – it’s worth watching. The thing I really like about it is this. She is putting a face, a real living, breathing person behind the otherwise overwhelming and austere profession of Publishing. She comes at it from an interesting angle. She’s also a reader AND a writer. Many of us writers look at publishers as a separate species. Sammie shows you otherwise. How the good ones at least (and I consider her now among the best!) think. To think they are no different than you and me!
The Color of the Wild is now available at Barnes & Nobles on-line, and this week, starting at midnight tonight, there will be an autographed copy of The Color of the Wild on the GoodReads Giveaway. We’re working on some wonderful bookstores, too. I’ll keep you posted, and please, keep me posted if you have any ideas and suggestions and I’ll be happy to contact them myself. I like to keep it personal, and I think bookstores do matter.
Which brings me to this. One more thing I’ve learned from Sammie and this marketing adventure. She calls it the “Grass Roots” approach to what had for a lot of years turned into Big Business. Now we’re turning the tables and bringing it back home again. It’s not just Sammie and me. It’s a big part of this whole industry. We’re being human beings. Real people. Writers, readers, publishers, printers, even cover designers and all the rest that go into this exciting process of making books. And when we do that, you know what? It’s nice. It’s easier for me. I can be myself. I can’t pretend to be something else. And I think I’m not alone in this thinking.
And the Grassroots approach does mean this. I need you. For spreading the word. And, yes: Reviews. If I were closer to some of you, I’d be prodding a few of those who agreed to read and review, and might not quite have had time to do either one just yet. I need your help! Reviews matter! And in this grassroots world of marketing that we are entering into, it’s all about people like me and YOU.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Color of the Wild

by Gin Getz

Giveaway ends March 07, 2014.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Phew. Enough for today. I need to get back to work. Writing. You probably need to get back to work too (don’t tell your boss you’ve been here reading…).

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Goodreads Book Giveaway

by Gin Getz

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