romance

Unique Selling Point (USP)

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

So, it’s out there.  

My book is running free in the vastness that is KDP. 

Amy Grace: Payne is out there (Kindle, Paperback & Hardback). 

If writing a book is hard (and it can be), marketing is most definitely a struggle on another level.

The cover was/is a deliberate attempt to stand out in thumbnail scanning, the lack of a title on the front and the cropping away of Amy’s face all deliberate too. 

The face – that’s easy, I wanted the reader to let their imagination create a face for Amy.

The lack of a title on the cover – again this was a deliberate attempt to let the image talk to the reader, the overly simplified art my attempt to give free reign to the imagination of the turner of pages – maybe it works, possibly it doesn’t, but that’s why I did what I did. 

Critique only works AFTER the event, first you must do, and only then can you review. 

Maybe I’ve taken the ‘Man in the Arena’ too much to heart… 

Back to the plot.     

To publicise my work, I’m hamstrung on many levels, not least in that I have a small social media presence AND I have zero in the budget to pay for highly skilled marketing folk to assist me.

The answer?

I don’t know. 

I wish I did, but I don’t.

Does my book have a USP that would help it stand out; help it jostle in such a crowded marketplace for attention?

Yes, I think it does, but again how do we let folk know?

Amy IS an interesting character, she has strengths, she has weaknesses, she is flawed, she is human. 

She is gay, do we lead with that? 

I haven’t because (in my mind) it’s just who she is, one facet of her life – it creates situations, but so too does her diminutive stature at 5’2” tall.   

I wrote Amy as a gay character, for no other reason than in my mind as I was typing away it just seemed to be the right thing for her – no political point scoring, no following a trend, no attempting to ride the rainbow, she’s just gay because that’s what she is.

But mostly she’s a young woman in pain, she’s suffering and attempting to come to terms with the events of chapter one. 

Amy is driven, she is singular in her focus to seek a redress, and for this she suffers and she struggles – that’s the story, that’s the tale I’m attempting to tell. 

Trauma isn’t neat, you don’t simply ‘get over it,’ for some it consumes with a ravenous appetite that destroys everything and screams loudly that ONLY vengeance will give it peace – it is a liar.

And then we have the villain, we have Thomas.

He has growth, he seeks redemption after finding love, but his character arc cannot be neat and clean, all Hollywood soft focus, because life just isn’t like that.

Hopefully, the reader (when they appear) will appreciate the human conflict that both Amy and Thomas experience – I hope they do.

The book, for whatever faults it has, is an attempt to be sympathetic to all in the tale, maybe that’s the USP.

So, how do we let the world know, how do we let the reviews and the stars decide the success of my attempt to tell a tall tale?

In a perfect world one of my many unsuccessful attempts to land a ‘literary agent’ would have been successful and skilled assistance would manifest… 

Ah, so many shots fired, and all failing to hit the mark.

So, as we hit week two of the book being available will the opening book of the adventures of Miss Amy Grace be a slow burn?

Will organic word of mouth succeed?

Do I need a gimmick?

Such are the trials and tribulations of a writer such as me.

Hug those you love, hug them for no other reason than right here and right now you can, tell them of the love you have for them, and in a topsy-turvy world do your very best to remain sane! 

Pavlov’s dog goes to Vegas.

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

That little icon, it’s so inviting, just one last hit for old times’ sake, just one trip round the world, you can control it, you know what you’re doing…

DELETE.

It’s almost an involuntary action, open your phone, click on icon of choice, dribble down chin, become angry/frustrated at the world, loose two and a half hours and have nothing to show for it afterwards.  You don’t feel better, you’re not better informed on world events, you’re not better by any objective measure.

So, you haven’t’ picked up your phone, it’s not ringing so why are you looking at it?

The realisation that your phone isn’t a vital appendage is groundbreaking and liberating.  If someone wants to talk to me it will ping or ring, if it’s silent then leave it alone – do something else!

We’ve been reading – oh the joy, the remembered pleasure of the written world taking you on an adventure.  Currently I’m in Belfast witnessing the battle between a recurring evil and a young woman trying to stop this serial killer – and it’s good.

I’m also when not reading, typing away – purging my own imagination.

The latest missive started as an opening line.  A man sitting on a pavement café in Sardinia, who is just watching the end of a day:

So little liquid, so much potential compressed into it.  It had gone cold, but he still sipped absentmindedly at his expresso.  People came; people went.  Life’s rich tapestry was a slowly changing tableau to his front. He watched but seemed to follow little.  He should have been paying rapt attention, but he wasn’t.   He was a middle-aged man in a nondescript jacket and open neck shirt sitting in a Sardinian pavement café drinking coffee.  He was sat alone, which for this café was unusual, he also had no open laptop, newspaper, or mobile phone competing for his attention, and that if noticed would have struck any viewer as strange. 

But nobody appeared to paying attention to anything.  Everything was slow, mañana personified.  The sun was lazily sinking into the sea, the fishing boats half-heartedly bobbing with the lackadaisical tide, even the evening breeze moved with all the speed of a sulking teenager… 

And good bad or indifferent this little section of prose helped pull me from the abyss that took two and a half hours of my life every day. 

I’m a pantster by trade and I’ve literally no idea where this tale is going, except it is going to Vegas because that town has always fascinated me.

Lots of tall tales have migrated towards Vegas, and HIM is no different.  We don’t know who he is, or indeed why THEY are after him, and importantly neither does he. 

HIM is my post social media project.  A dalliance into writing a short (10,000) word story.  So far, it’s working.

Oh, the tale we are weaving and the fun we are having – Intrigue, murder and a kind-hearted prostitute who doesn’t want or need rescuing.  

So, point of this missive.

Time is the stuff of life, you only have so many breaths/heartbeats etc.  You can spend two and a half hours every day doing something you don’t really enjoy, or you can delete the app and do something else. 

As a child (age spoiler) I remember a TV show imaginatively called – Wdyjsoytsagadslbi?: Why don’t you just switch off your television set and go and do something less boring instead?

Maybe the folk in the late 1970’s weren’t too far off the mark?

Stay safe, remain sane AND Wdyjsoytsagadslbi?

Pick me (Nigel).

/ Neil Bowers / Leave a comment

If ever there was a pop reference to age me, maybe that one is it!

Still scribbling away, still casting my bait into the deep dark waters without attracting a bite.

Fishing is a game of patience. 

Even when standing shoulder to shoulder along a crowded bank, I still have faith that my hook is more than worthy of a nibble (or two).

Amy is a strong character, she’s interesting, fully rounded, not dependent upon anyone else for validation – she looks at both Bechdel and Mako Mori, nods in acknowledgement and moves ever onwards.

The tale is a wonderful blend of fast paced adventure, revenge, and the struggle to recover, all mixed with the subtle spice of steampunk and Irish mythology.  

The first book is a true standalone project that starts and stops with questions answered, and loose ends tied up nice and neat.  Yet, for those with a taste for this mix the adventure continues for another four volumes… 

As grand as they are (and they are) all those finely crafted words are for naught if they are never read.

Would you pick Amy?

Will Nigel pick me? 

I’m casting my line, loading my bait, and hoping for a bite.

While I patiently wait, stay safe and remain sane.