A Stranger Asks You to Promote a Book with a Typo in the Title

Signs of a problem: unsolicited email in your inbox; mouth open in horror.

The symptoms: anger; frustration; pain.

Your book has just been rejected for inclusion in a major bookstore’s core catalogue, your local paper has overlooked your book launch and your former university has released a magazine listing ‘Published Alumni’ that only includes fiction endorsed by conventional publishers.

Why, you ask, why is the world so prejudiced against self-published authors?

And then it happens: you receive an email asking you to help promote a stranger’s book. This, in itself, is not unusual. However, what stands out about it is that the book has a typo in the title. You scan its product page looking for signs of irony or child authors, but there are none. You wonder if failing to capitalise ‘I’ is a house style. But then you realise that the other instance of ‘I’, in the same title, is capitalised. You take a look at the cover. This contains the same capitalisation error, but on the second ‘I’ this time.

Steam is coming out of your ears. This is why your book is being overlooked.

It’s important not to let your success go to your head. Remember when you started out. Were your books completely error free? Did you accidentally make a typo in a first sentence? (Yes.) Remember that not everybody can afford an editor and not everybody is capable of the same attention to detail.

Then get mad anyway – it’s the title for goodness sake, the title.

However, no matter how frustrated you may feel, do not respond to the author with, ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ If you are rude, you run the chances of upsetting the author.

Remember, you are not the grammar police, or the self-publishing police, or the eBook standards firing squad. Stay calm.

When an author tells you, “I don’t really care about polishing my book or perfecting my title. I just want to get my story out there,” you must resist the urge to scream, “But I care, and so do dozens of other hard-working indies.” One of the merits of self-publishing is that it gives everybody a chance to make their story heard. Let readers be the judge of whether they want to read As i Walk in my Mothers’ Footprints I smile :-).

You Win an Award

The situation: congratulations coming from every direction; a new shiny badge, medal or trophy in your possession.

You feel: excitement; pride.

You may think that once the winners of a competition have been announced, the game is over. Alas, the game has only just begun. Now you must plan your acceptance speech. Readers, competitors and the competition organisers will be waiting to see your reaction.

The standard phrase in such a situation is ‘I didn’t expect to win.’ Even if all the other books had been written upside down, you still didn’t expect to win. If possible, deflect the praise by thanking your editor, cover designer and devoted spouse. This will make you appear thoughtful as well as victorious and may get you a discount on your next proofread. (I’m on to you – Ed.)

Do not say, “I was quietly confident I would get this award and it’s a relief to finally have it confirmed.” Do not say, “I’ve already spent my prize money.” Do not say, “Ha ha, suckers!”

However, modesty has its limits. You must use your success to pimp your work. Your book is no longer, ‘A quite funny book about field mice’; it’s ‘An award-winning book about field mice’. Your blurb no longer starts with ‘Mizzy, 31, is a mouse without a spouse’; it starts with ‘Winner of the 2014 Best Anthropomorphic Book Award’.

If the competition awards a trophy, get a friend to photograph you holding it, preferably with a surprised or comedic expression on your face, and post it to social networks. Find out if the competition organisers have made a blog badge. If so, copy the code into the sidebar of your website, so that it is visible to people whatever post they are reading.

The one time that you should not display a badge or trophy with pride, is if you win a ‘Best Effort’ prize awarded by the Robot-Donkey Porn Guild (unless, of course, your book is about robot-donkeys getting it on). A trivial or bogus-sounding award is more likely to damage than help your career

A Tween Vampire Romance Novelist Wants to Co-Write Your Next Crime Thriller

The situation: being faced with the question, “Do you think your detective would look better with fangs?”

You feel: embarrassment.

You’ve written four bestselling crime thrillers praised for their realism and factual accuracy. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a friendly acquaintance has a “crazy idea” – “Let’s co-write your next book!” Your acquaintance is talented, popular and very amenable, but her forte is vampire romances for young teenagers.

You try to explain, politely, that you don’t think your styles will successfully mesh, but she tells you that the only thing holding your series back is the absence of fangs. Of course, you know that the introduction of a mythical creature will destroy your career, but what can you do to decline gracefully without offending your peer?

No matter how much you care about offending others do not, whatever you do, agree to co-write the book. The clash of styles will be a total disaster. Co-writing the book and watching your career go up in smoke will do more damage to your relationship than telling it straight.

Suggest, instead, contributing work to the same anthology. Opportunities to submit to anthologies are plentiful if you join popular writing forums. This will allow your acquaintance the chance to feel that you have co-written a book, without actually having to work together on anything other than promotion. You are both doing what you do best, and nobody gets hurt.

An Unsolicited Novel Lands in Your Inbox

The situation: unsolicited email has a huge attachment.

You feel: feeling overwhelmed; guilt.

A kind reader writes you a personal email to tell you how much he loved your book and hopes that you enjoyed his review. You write back to thank him. He tells you that there is a little favour you could do in return – read his attached one hundred thousand word novel and give critical feedback. (Are you noticing a theme?)

This is a cunning trick, because he did you a favour first, so you’re feeling kindly disposed, and it seems rude not to help. You wish you had time to look at the novel, but you simply don’t.

The first thing to do is realise that once you’re quite well known, it is not physically possible to read and review the work of everybody who’s read and reviewed yours. What’s more – that’s okay. This is where you wanted to be, and although this particular aspect of being well known may make you feel bad, you are not in the wrong. There aren’t enough hours in the day to help everybody and that’s not your fault.

Whatever you do, do not make any false promises, no matter how much you’d like to help. This will heighten the mistaken sense of betrayal when you eventually have to let the budding author down.

The easiest thing to do is to open the attachment and have a quick peek at page one. If you’re lucky, the book might inspire you so much that you allow it to be one of the few books you can find time to read. However, the chances are that it won’t be your sort of book.

A glance at page one will often tell you that the brand-new novel in your possession is not the sort of thing that you could give feedback on even if you wanted to. This is useful because it allows you to get back to the reader in a way that neither hurts feelings nor makes you look like a haughty bighead. You can tell the author, in full sincerity, that you don’t know a thing about religious, historical fantasy and that his style is something so far removed from your own, that any comments from you would be useless.

If, on the other hand, the style is exactly the sort of thing that you could comment on, then you will have to navigate the situation a little more carefully. Do you have time to read the first few pages? It’s fine if you haven’t, but if you have, then the author is likely to be grateful for any feedback he can get, and this will allow you to gracefully decline giving feedback on the whole book.

If you don’t have time to read the first few pages, then is there another small favour that you could do for the author? Perhaps link to his blog from yours or recommend his work to a friend. You could even keep handy the details of somebody who offers reasonably priced critical feedback, so that you can pass it on when other authors approach you. All you can do is be honest with the author, write a polite email and hope that he or she understands.

Occasionally, totally splendid hotshot authors can get a little tired and crotchety. It is important to remember that, no matter how much stress you are under, “Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might be too busy to deal with yet another adolescent vampire romance?” is not a suitable response. You were once talented, unknown and desperate to succeed, remember?

A Fan Posts You a Cat

Signs of a problem: courier arrives with ‘Pets You Like’ written on his van.

The symptoms: confusion; excitement; despair.

You’ve made a big public show of how much you want a cat. In fact, your author identity is practically founded on your love of cats. From your debut novel, Cats Rule the Earth to your recent offering, I’d Marry a Cat if I Could, your books are distinctly feline-themed.

So, when a fan decides to make your dream come true and inject a cat into your pet-free life, what could possibly go wrong?

Generally, cat lovers without cats suffer some form of circumstance that prevents cat acquisition, otherwise they would go out and adopt one of the many cats needing homes. This could be as simple as living on the top floor of a high-rise flat, being in rented accommodation or not having enough money to feed a cat. However, it could be something more significant such as having a lover who goes into anaphylactic shock whenever he or she hears purring.

A fan who posts an author a cat has some serious deficiencies in the forward-planning department.

Should a parcel delivered by a courier contain a cat, first, meet and greet the kitty. Next, find out if there is a return address handy. Inspect the sender’s name. Check that the cat hasn’t come from any of your competitors – the last thing you need is your nemesis getting a spy cat into your life. If you recognise the name of a fan, then it is likely that the cat is a genuine gift and not a spy.

You will need to liaise with the fan about the appropriateness of his or her offering. When contacting the fan, tread carefully. It can be considered rude not to accept a present but it’s better than keeping a cat in unsuitable surroundings. Talk to the fan rationally and explain that you are not in a position to adopt a cat. He or she will probably understand.

You may find that the fan intends to support the cat financially. Although this may sound appealing, it is best not to encourage the type of fan that would post an unsolicited mammal.

Do not return the cat. The sender is clearly not capable of thinking in the best interests of the animal. See if you can find a good home for the cat, or consult a cat rescue centre.

If, however, you are able to provide the cat with a good home, then you should grab this opportunity (not the cat) by its ears. Welcome the kitty into your life with open arms.

The fan probably expects you to call the cat after him – don’t.

A Store Offers You a Golden Chicken in Exchange for Exclusivity

Signs of a problem: visualising golden eggs.

The symptoms: excitement; ambition.

You’re selling books in a variety of stores – not vast numbers, but a few here and there. Along comes the biggest store and offers you the chance to win a golden chicken. All you have to do is remove your books from sale in every other book store.

You think it through – a golden chicken, hey? You talk to authors who have already taken the plunge. Some say they haven’t won a chicken yet but are hoping to soon. A sizeable number report that they’ve already received a big, fluffy golden chicken, and it’s laying golden eggs left, right and centre.

You peer inside your chicken coop at your existing feathered friends. You have six healthy birds, all producing a small but steady supply of eggs. However, none of them is golden. Imagine all the things you could buy with your golden eggs: line edits, illustrations, high-class call girls… Of course, to qualify for a golden chicken you will have to wring the necks of all your existing birds. You look at your chickens – they have served you well, but perhaps it’s time to move on.

People who decide to enter into an exclusivity contract with a major store often find that their sales and earnings improve. Some of the benefits include being able to run special promotions and having your books included in lending libraries. An increase in visibility from a large store can make up for loss of earnings from all the smaller stores put together. But is exclusivity helpful in the long run?

Chickens age. Even if your chicken is popping out golden eggs faster than you can cash them in, its yield will trail off as it gets older. If you’re lucky, the store might award you another golden chicken, but there’s no guarantee. Even golden eggs will decline in value the more chickens are on the market. The government might decide to start taxing golden eggs, having an impact on their value.

More importantly, if you lose your golden chicken, you’ll have no chickens left. The store might decide to hide your chicken because some robot mistakenly thought its name was rude. The store might bring in a new rule that repossesses chickens owned by authors who don’t agree to a fifty per cent drop in royalties. Nobody knows what the store will do, but if you agree to be exclusive, you’ll be at its mercy.

Once your exclusivity contract has expired, you might be able to go out and acquire new ordinary chickens like the ones you used to have. However, if the breeds have become extinct because everybody strangled theirs in a scramble to get golden birds, you’ll be up shit creek without a wattle.

Your Talking Cow Protagonist Puts You Off Beef

The situation: illustration of a cheeky cow grinning at you; aversion to red meat.

You feel: nausea; despair; guilt.

So you want to write a kids’ book, huh? Talking animals are a time-honoured strategy when it comes to entertaining children. However, you do need to be careful when you anthropomorphise. Identify your favourite meat and steer well clear of the originating animal.

You may think that you’re a red-blooded, down-to-earth chap who could never turn down a steak, but after getting to know Mrs Moo-Moo, her adorable personality, her quirky habits and her cute bovine face, you may feel differently.

Should you start to feel a slight aversion to meat, you need to tread carefully. You have two options: lose an eating habit or lose your character. Take into consideration the popularity of your books. Do children love Mrs Moo-Moo? If so, then perhaps sacrificing beef is a small price to keep many children happy and your book in print.

Do not, whatever you do, start a series about talking vegetables. You do need to eat.