My first book was published in the early 90’s. A different century. A different time.

Back then, publishers usually guided writers in–and sometimes provided us with–full publicity and marketing services. And not just bestselling legendary authors. Even beginners like me.

Listen to this: For two of those early books, I was sent on nationwide tours bursting with radio, local television and newspaper interviews, and with signings at local bookstores where posters featuring my face and book cover greeted me. I was booked on national talk shows–Joan Rivers and I chatted as she held up a copy of my book. In each city, a handler greeted me at the airport and delivered me to each media/retail stop, catering to my every whim or need, carefully not wearing perfume or after-shave in case a strong scent might offend my aesthetic authorly sensibilities. Each three week lap of the tour was jam-packed, whirlwind, non-stop. My file folder was an inch deep with lists of appointments. And then, back at home, I had radio interviews all day and night with hosts from Canada to Guam.

Changing Times

Well, anyway. Times have changed. These days, publishers might get our books reviewed in Publishers Weekly. Maybe even Kirkus. After that, most of us are pretty much on our own. Our books transform, no longer our slaved-over, adored creations. Instead, they are a product to be pushed, same as hotdogs or toilet paper. We trade professional hats, replacing our writer caps with salesman hats, public relations rep helmets, and promotions officer berets.

What’s the best way to proceed? How do we—most of us untrained in marketing skills—manage to make our books not just noticed, but desired–even craved by readers?

Well, we can pay book publicists thousands of dollars to promote our work. That might help.

Or we can struggle on our own.

Going Alone

Actually, that struggle can produce a lot. We can start by devoting a specified amount of time–an hour a day? A day a week? But dedicated time not to write or to procrastinate, but to build our “brand,” becoming recognizable and likeable in communities we’ve become part of, based on mutual interests over a period of time, so that when our book finally comes out, we have people who will (we hope) be interested.

Probably, you’ve heard about this process already. “Branding” is the buzz word of our writerly times. To that end, we can build up our twitter and facebook lists, posting items relevant to our “brand.” We can send out newsletters about topics related to our writing and brand. We can blog, a web page, and a podcast—all consistent with our brand. We can get cozy with bookstore owners and managers who might highlight or even suggest our work. We can attend conferences, participate in panel discussions and workshops, join writing organizations, announce our work on thunderclap, do blog tours, run Goodreads giveaways, hold contests, hire ads on bill boards along the highway, pay to have our book covers plastered on bus stops, do readings and signings at pubs, shoe stores, street corners, with other writers at county fairs or community events. Whew.

We can repeatedly reach out to our “target” readers, spinning and stretching and beckoning in ways as yet unthought of, spending hours days and weeks and months of our time. Inventing new ways to put our brand and our work in front of readers.

Maybe our efforts will succeed and sell truckloads of our books. Maybe the time we spend on marketing will have a direct relationship to the number of books we sell.

The blunt truth is, though, there is no guarantee.

In the end, unless we have a celebrity name or are already a bestseller, selling books requires sweat. But not just sweat. Marketing books requires, I think, a touch of magic, a bit of mystery, a pinch of luck, tons of hard consistent work.

And, of course, just the right hat.