Reflections on The Promotion of the "Blood Cries Out"

The "Blood Cries Out" was published in July 2014.

  
As some of you have probably heard by now, I'm heading to London and Rome in about eight weeks.  It's part of a study abroad program with Marylhurst University.  (I'll be graduating in less than a year now with a BA in English Literature and New Media.)  Anyway, I plan to change the focus of my blog writings to #LondonRome2017 starting later this weekend.  Before making the transition, though, I thought this might be a good opportunity to share some reflections on the marketing and promotion of this novel back in 2014/2015.  

Unless perhaps one's a poet, it's not usually the writer's goal to sell fewer than a few hundred books. While the sales have been a little disheartening, I do think there are lessons that can be taken away here, and these lessons are perhaps also of some use to other writers.  Without further ado, then, here are the top ten things to keep in mind when promoting (and writing) your own work.

1.  Don't necessarily expect even relatively close friends to understand the importance of your novel to you.

After you invest years of research, writing, rewriting, and editing into a novel it begins to feel like the birth of a...really significant hamster, let's say.  Unless all of one's friends are writers, which would not necessarily be such a healthy thing, don't expect most of them to even remotely understand the personal significance of what you're revealing about yourself.  Good friends may show no interest, and you should avoid holding it against them.  You can't make someone excited for your book, so you should really not try to do so--too much anyway.  Many of my of friends, for instance, aren't into fiction at all, and this can be quite annoying.  What one really needs to do is find creative ways for the novel to be seen, read, and talked about by a larger group of people.  Think big, and try to ignore the people close to you who really couldn't seem to care less.

2.  Understand exactly who your audience is before you begin promotions work.

One of the challenges I faced in The Blood Cries Out was that I was striving for a strong sense of realism as well as a powerful sense of place.  I'm drawn to place, and I won't apologize for the emphasis, but it is worth noting what unexpected things can happen.  With my novel, for instance, I encountered two audiences that had issues with my book from the start: Catholics and non-Catholics.  That's actually a pretty large group...  So, what had I done to incur the ill will of so many good readers?  This quote from Flannery O'Connor goes far in explaining my problem with Catholics.

Fiction is about everything human and we are made out of dust, and if you scorn getting yourself dusty, then you shouldn’t try to write fiction.  It’s not a grand enough job for you.

FLANNERY O'CONNOR, Mystery and Manners

Many conservative Catholics (and Protestants) have become very comfortable with sanitized fiction; it's fiction that has no connection with reality.  If it's a mystery about a police detective, the author never took the time to learn about the daily life of police officers.  All their "knowledge" comes from television and movies, and that's not a good way to write.  These writers won't use profanity, because that kind of language offends them.  Well, it offends me, too; it's still necessary at times.  That doesn't mean the dialogue has to resemble the rantings of Allen Ginsberg, but you need to establish the authenticity of your characters.  You do this by letting them speak for themselves.

Another challenge appears to have been that non-Catholics assumed that my novel would be preachy or "overly" Catholic in nature.  I don't believe it was, and that has never actually been a criticism that I have received from anyone.  Catholicism deals, after all, with every aspect of what it means to be human. I don't think that a work can be a work of fiction can be too Catholic, but I certainly can see works being so preachy in tone that it distracts or annoys the reader.

In conclusion, however, it should be noted that there are some reasonable steps one can take to minimize the problems outlined above.  You don't have to lessen the quality of your work in order to give it a more broad appeal, but it does require careful thought and reflection.  In the case of my mystery novel, for example, the next work will likely not contain religious symbols on the cover, and it will likely not be so closely set in the heart of a bustling city like Seattle.  More details another time...

3.  If you're self-publishing or working with a hybrid press like I did, hire an editor.

I did the editing in-house, so to speak.  It was a family project.  We came very close to a professional edit, but we missed the mark in about a dozen instances.  When you have a potential reviewer bring your confidence down several notches by her vivid explanation of your errors, it makes for a memorable experience.  After you have climbed out from under the rock and into the light again (wearing sunglasses and a hat, of course, so as not to be recognized by any prospective readers), you may find that you never can quite promote the work the same way again; you've lost enthusiasm and passion for your own writing, and that's a seriously bad place to find yourself in as a writer.

4.  Don't self-publish.

All right, I know this is easier said than done, but self-publishing--even hybrid presses like Light Switch Press--just don't provide the platform you need to be a successful writer.  Are there exceptions to this rule?  Absolutely.  Many of them.  (Of course, some like The Shack, remain terrible books even after picked-up by that traditional publisher.)  Let's use my publisher as an example: Light Switch Press.  First, they offered no editorial services without a hefty price tag.  When I brought changes to them the first time, they were pretty reasonable.  The second time?  No so much.  As I recall, it was going to be close to a thousand dollars to get about half a dozen corrections done.
  
Second, beyond the initial announcement, there are no ongoing publicity efforts: nothing.  As I understand, this is pretty standard in the self-publishing industry.  It's important that your book is more than a simple revenue stream to your publisher.  If they don't promote their authors or their products, you should seriously consider going a different route.

Third, most importantly, your prospective readers are going to take your book a little less seriously than if it came from a traditional press.  That's not a good thing.  This also holds true to bookstores and libraries.  I had a pretty miserable experience with the library in Friday Harbor, because the book seemed to be missing entry into some list or other that they needed to utilize for all book purchases.  (I also don't believe they cared for the cross on the cover, and that might be a point for another day.)

Fourth, self-published works often have horrible and truly incompetent cover art.  This may not seem a big deal, but it is.  Assuming you're not fortunate enough to be married to an artist, you need to ensure that your book's cover truly sets it apart from the competition.  If you choose self-publication, this means (most likely) that you need to hire your own artist.  And don't ask them to do it for free.

5.  Beware of hiring a publicist.

Publicists can be a big help in spreading the word about your book, but they can also seriously drain your bank account.  Mine worked ostensibly for two months, but none of her efforts appear to have resulted in even a single sale.  (She didn't even buy her own copy of the book.)  It boosted my confidence for a while, and it was a fun experience to work closely with this person, but in the end the services were not really worth the cost.  A much less expensive approach can be to find author or reviewer blogs that will feature your work, or make yourself available for interviews.  There are also services that will promote your book online for scheduled periods of time, and this can be helpful.

6.  Stay grounded and remember how your brainstorming of ideas may appear to others.  

It's easy to get excited about the process of getting your book out there to the public, and it's fun to explore unusual or expensive promotional avenues.  It's best to think carefully about particular approaches before contacting someone about them, however; put yourself in the other person's shoes.  There was a young woman, for instance, who worked in the general entertainment industry, whom I asked to consider serving as a model for a promotional shot for the story.  What likely led to her blocking yours truly was the fact that her character's death in The Blood Cries Out is not a particularly happy or sanitized scene.  So, when this person realized I was asking her to be a model (relating to the protagonist's past relationship with her), I think she assumed it pertained more to the death scene than to the back story.  You want to avoid creeping out people in the publishing or entertainment industries when possible...

7.  Beware too much self-promotion of your new work.  

Let's face it.  When people promote their own books or music incessantly on social media, it can get old quickly.  Of course, if you are a self-published author, this may be about the only avenue you have to promote your work before spending dollars.  This is another reason in my mind to avoid self-publishing altogether.  The usual approach requires you as the writer to peddle your book to your friends and family first.  That's all fine and good, but it's not going to get you to the top of the charts.  It's also a good way to annoy those close to you.

8.  Don't give up.

If your book fails to sell the way you had hoped, try to avoid throwing in the towel.  Try exploring new areas for writing or consider collaborating on a project with another author.  Get out of your comfort zone.  In my case, I returned to school to complete my degree a year after publishing my mystery novel. It's never been a choice I've regretted.

9.  Pursue reviews as best you can.

Reviews are terribly important in the life of a work of literature--especially in the digital age.  Find ways to promote authentic and genuine reviews like novel giveaways or contests.  Readers usually appreciate these opportunities, and it makes them feel closer to the author--and the story.  Book giveaways are a good way to promote your work, but, at the same time, be careful about giving too many copies away.  I still regret agreeing to give free copies to a local radio station; the signed copies are likely on sale somewhere online even now.

10.  Keep reading, writing, and practicing your faith.

Hand-in-hand with number eight above, keep reading and keep writing as often as you can.  Read authors you treasure and explore others that you're not so sure about.  Push your boundaries and pursue a higher quality of writing product each time you finish an article or a work of fiction.  

The last one may seem out of place, but I really believe in faith playing an important part to the quality of art you create.  As I pointed out on this blog recently, look at how music, literature, and visual arts have crashed and burned in the last century.  While there are exceptions to the rule, modern artists (relating to all branches of the arts) seem to have lost a connection with the eternal, and that loss is reflected within their works in disjointed text, cacophonous notes, or paintings with form but lacking in any real substance.  As authors, I suggest, many of us have lost our grip on words, because we have lost our grip on Him.  

     

Brief Analysis of the Ethics of "To Kill a Mockingbird"

Film Analysis of To Kill a Mockingbird

     The choice for this film analysis was ultimately between two movies that made a strong impact on me over the past year, or so: The Lady in the Van starring Maggie Smith and To Kill a Mockingbird starring the iconic Gregory Peck.  Both motion pictures are excellent, one following a real-life story of London’s Miss Shepherd and the other based on the classic work by Harper Lee, but a decision had to be made.  The ultimate choice of topic for this paper, then, is To Kill a Mockingbird.  In part, this is based on the fact that I wrote a research paper last term entitled “Atticus Finch’s Identity Crisis,” which compared and contrasted Harper Lee’s two books—only one in a sense, but that’s a digression to be clarified within this academic paper.  In choosing this movie, I have selected a work full of rich ethical complexities that are successfully navigated by the protagonist, Atticus Finch.  (While the narrator is arguably Scout Finch, Atticus Finch is best described as the protagonist of the novel and film.)  In personal communications with Gregory Peck’s daughter, Cecilia Peck, she recently described to me why this role was so deeply important to her father.  

I think what he said himself sums it up so well, "I put everything I had into it — all my feelings, and everything I'd learned in 46 years of living, about family life and fathers and children. And my feelings about racial justice and inequality and opportunity.” He did put all of himself into it. And he championed the making of the film at a time when most of the studios were not ready to address the subject of racism in films. Although it may not seem groundbreaking today, at the time, the book and the film were enormously impactful. I believe they helped to shift attitudes in our country and point towards the Civil Rights legislation. My dad’s willingness to stand up for what he believed in showed in his performance as Atticus. Harper Lee and my father became inseparable for the rest of their lives. Their friendship came out of the relationship between the book and the film, which also became inseparable. As much as the book drove readers toward the film, the film drove viewers toward the novel. They are forever intertwined, and I think it’s one of the best adaptations ever from a novel into a film.  (Peck, Personal Communication)

        The movie is set in the fictional community of Maycomb, Alabama in the early 1930s.  This Southern community is one in which the race divide is like a chasm that runs deep and wide through a small American town.  When Atticus Finch becomes the public defender for Tom Robinson, a young black man unjustly accused of raping a white woman, Atticus’ involvement places his reputation and even the physical safety of his family in jeopardy.

     For the purposes of this analysis, this essay will be focusing upon the iconic courtroom scene from the motion picture.  The only notable difference between the film and the book’s narrative pertains to the representation of Tom Robinson’s withered left hand; it is not depicted as particularly deformed in the movie.   Since there are no significant differences between the book and the movie with regards to this particular passage, then, I am going to set the scene with an excerpt from Harper Lee’s novel, To Kill a Mockingbird.  In this scene, Atticus is referring to the alleged rape victim, Mayella Ewell.

I say guilt, gentleman, because it was guilt that motivated her.  She has committed no crime, she has merely broken a rigid and time-honored code of our society, a code so severe that whoever breaks it is hounded from our midst as unfit to live with.  She is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance, but I cannot pity her: she is white.  She knew full well the enormity of her offense, but because her desires were greater than the code she was breaking, she persisted in breaking it.  Sher persisted, as her subsequent reaction is something every one of us have known at one time or another.  She did something every child has done—she tried to put the evidence of her offense away from her.    But in this case she was no child hiding contraband: she struck out at her victim—of necessity she must put him away from her presence, from this world.  She must destroy the evidence of her offense.  (Lee, 231)

The passage dramatizes Atticus’ willingness to rise to the passionate defense of Tom Robinson, but it further highlights his selflessness with regards to the very public nature of this defense.  He could have proceeded half-heartedly, for instance, which would have likely have safeguarded his reputation within the community.  Instead, he gave the defense his utmost, and in so doing he jeopardized his reputation with the townspeople of Maycomb, Alabama. 

     The first lens through which this scene will be examined will be the lens of integrity.  As Stephen Carter defines the application of this word, it requires one to “discern what is right, act on that discernment, and then publicly explain why you acted as you did.”  (Tompkins, 84)  No other ethical quality or dimension seems to describe so well what is at the heart of Atticus strident defense of Tom Robinson.  It is not defense rooted in anything remotely self-serving, but it represents a man taking risk upon himself (and family) for the good of an innocent man.  By intervening and accepting this client, his work as an attorney becomes akin to the person who sees something happening that is morally wrong and either interposes himself between victim or perpetrator or takes another manner of direct action to attempt to secure the greater good; it’s “taking a stand against the bystander mentality.”  It is so easy to let events pass one by without extending even a gesture of aid, but Atticus placed his entire livelihood within Maycomb in uncertainty when he undertook the defense of Mr. Robinson.  Applying the lens of integrity to the courtroom scene from To Kill a Mockingbird shines a bright light upon the unique character of Atticus Finch, a man who bravely articulates the truth regarding racism in the South, and its continuing role within crime and punishment, as well as the pursuit of truth.

     The second lens to turn to is the one called justice, specifically procedural justice.  “Procedural justice provides an alternative to the personal search for corrective justice by creating a more impartial process for discerning what is fair or deserving.  A process for procedural justice could be as simple as drawing a name from a hat or as complex as legal trial by jury of one’s peers.”  (Tompkins, 75-76)  It is Atticus Finch’s steadfast belief in the criminal justice system and the rule of law that is at the heart of his challenge to the community’s status quo.  He does not hold that only Caucasians are worthy of a fair and just trial; he believes it is something to which all are entitled.  It could be argued that procedural justice in the story’s end loses ground, however, in the heart of Atticus.  Integrity and procedural justice are in conflict when Tom Robinson is found guilty, despite the strong evidence to the contrary.  As if something was learned from this later in the work, Atticus Finch also relents in not publicizing the serious actions of the reclusive Boo Radley through the spotlight of a new trial.  While not directly in the scope of the scene being analyzed, it is important to raise this dimension of the moral and ethical development of Atticus Finch, as this ensconcing of the truth would have been against every moral fiber of his being before the attack upon his daughter Scout Finch.  The attack on his own family has revealed that integrity is the higher good than necessarily always following the rules of man’s law.

     As Cecilia Peck wisely observed earlier, “Although it may not seem groundbreaking today, at the time, the book and the film were enormously impactful. I believe they helped to shift attitudes in our country and point towards the Civil Rights legislation. My dad’s willingness to stand up for what he believed in showed in his performance as Atticus.”  (Peck, Personal Communication)  Both the book and motion picture are infused with a deep integrity and an appreciation of the rights of all.  Indeed, Aticus represents a character that is still emulated (by some) in the legal profession.  The work is poignant reminder of the good that people may do when the good of self is placed behind the good of others.

    

Cited Sources

Lee, Harper.  To Kill a Mockingbird, HarperCollins, New York, 1960.

Peck, Cecilia, Personal Communication

Tompkins, Paula S. Practicing Communication Ethics : Development, Discernment, and Decision-Making. Boston, MA : Allyn & Bacon, 2011. Print. 

        

 Works Consulted

"A Conversation with Gregory Peck," directed by Barbara Kopple. produced by Barbara Kopple, Cecilia Peck, and Linda Saffire.  performance by Gregory Peck.  Universal Studios, , 2011. 

Directed by Mulligan, Robert. To Kill a Mockingbird, produced by Horton Foote, performance by Gregory Peck, Mary Badham and Phillip Alford. Universal-International, 1962. 

(MLA style not retained in this essay due to spacing for blog readers.)

The Musings of a Frustrated American Literature Undergrad

(Title clarification: I am an English Literature and New Media undergrad studying American Literature this term.)    

 Unfortunately, I didn’t feel a particular connection with this week’s readings.  Not only were they largely unable to catch maintain my interest, but, with the possible exception of Li-Young Lee, each writer seemed to be characterized by a sort of melancholic and humorless resignation: individuals for whom it seems there is no hope of joy or meaning in present life.  I’ll be the first to confess that I have a bias in favor of the writers of past generations more than today—just as I tend to prefer classical composers belonging to centuries other than our own.  That said, I’m not usually overly critical, but the last two weeks of readings have been somewhat uninspiring.  Even with those authors and poets, like Sylvia Plath, who held my attention, the common thread that comes to mind for the past few weeks, at least, is one of despair.  While I can appreciate the need to gain some familiarity with some of these lesser known contemporary writers, it’s becoming an increasing challenge for me personally. 

     It’s more than a despair of the present, though; the attitude of these authors seems to convey a deep-seated and pervasive hopelessness running through these writers like blood runs through veins.  If we follow these threads of despair back through the past couple weeks, or so, a good starting point would be Sylvia Plath. 

You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who 

Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do.  

But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look 

And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through.

Plath, Sylvia (2016-11-15). The Collected Poems (pp. 223-224). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

     As I observed last week, these words echo and reverberate like a popular tune that won’t go away.  The contrast of the darkly powerful and profound “Daddy” with more natured-centered works like “Winter Landscape, with Rooks,” “Channel Crossing,” or “Southern Sunrise” is also fascinating.  What mental or spiritual darkness led this author to veer so violently away from the appreciation of the beauty around her to a focus so upon the blackness of her own heart and mind?  If she is expressing sorrow and anger for the loss of her father, then why did she herself choose to commit suicide (using her own stove, after leaving food out for her orphaned children)?  Since her father reportedly refused medical treatment, does she see his death as morally synonymous with suicide?

     A similar thread of darkness infuses the writings of Ginsberg, and is conveyed with something akin to anger or a nightmarish rant in “Howl.” 

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the 

     stoops off fire escapes off windowsills of Empire State out 

     of the moon,

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and 

     memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of 

     hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and 

     nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on 

     the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of 

     ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and 

     migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak 

     furnished room,

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad

     yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken

     hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing

     through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and 

     bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at

     their feet in Kansas, who loned it through the streets of

     Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary

     indian angels, 

Ginsberg, as I confessed last week in the presentation discussion, neither caught my interest, nor did his writing seem to convey anything other than a sort of random litany of profanity.  It didn’t seem to me to represent profanity directed towards a higher purpose, but more like profanity for the sake of profanity.

     This week’s readings include an account of a disturbing male on male sexual assault within Junot Diaz’s “Drown,” a story whose protagonist is a drug pusher.  It’s not possible for me to find a redeeming characteristic from this particular story.  Nothing is conveyed other than a feeling of despair, isolation, and sin (the ultimate separation between God and man). 

     From my perspective, then, the last two weeks’ readings conveyed mainly inarticulate expressions of spiritual deficits and emptiness: form devoid of underlying depth of content.  Compare these authors to the more uplifting and edifying words of authors like W.E.B. Du Bois or Flannery o'Connor, and modern literature (as represented here) strikes me in a similar way as modern art and modern classical music: abandonment of time-tested traditions and methods in pursuit of dissonant and cacophonous artistic methods—from visual arts to music.  “If it feels good, do it” seems to be the modernist approach.  Whether something has inherent value, truth, or beauty is apparently irrelevant as long as the “art” is believed suitable for making one think.  I think I will go wash my brain out with some good Flannery O’Connor and reflect on a simple verse from Philippians 4:8.  Sometimes the most beautiful and eloquent writing is also that infused with the greatest truth; after all, truth is beautiful.

  

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Brand New Home on the Web!

We are excited to announce a brand new combined website for Karl Erickson's writing and Kimberly Erickson's glass art and illustrations.  You will find our new front door HERE.  We invite you to let yourself right in, but best watch out for the cat!

After you stop by, don't forget to let us know what you think!