Social media channels are great ways for you to invest in social capital—to support the community of writers that you most admire or identify with. That means shout-outs for great books you’ve read (reviews on Amazon or random blurts on your favorite channels or both!), especially those by marginalized writers; following writers you admire; and following writers you want to encourage. All this sharing builds a positive community that includes you. After you have established a personality and paid it forward (“it” being your social capital investments), your funny, charming, or humble blurts about this or that accomplishment will be welcomed by the people who follow you.
Building Your Community
It’s the writer, not the book: finding a home in the virtual village.
LOUISE PENNY
After my first book was written but before it was published, my husband, Michael, and I went to a panel of crime writers in Montréal.
As the chairs were being put out for the smattering of onlookers, mostly family and friends of the writers, I stood by the refreshment table, trying to look like I belonged. As I reached for another cookie, I overheard a snippet of conversation that changed my life.
A veteran writer (I honestly can’t remember who it was) was talking to someone whose first novel had just come out, and who was having an anxiety attack about the upcoming panel.
The debut author admitted he had no idea how to promote his book.
“I’ll tell you how,” said the vet.
I leaned closer.
“Don’t promote your book,” he said. “Promote yourself.”
“Huh?” said the new writer.
Exactly what I was thinking. Huh?
“If they like you, they’ll probably buy your book, and will probably like it,” the vet explained. “And will probably tell others about it.”
Wait a minute, I thought. That doesn’t make sense. Liking a book has nothing to do with liking the writer. If a book’s bad, no amount of liking the writer will change that.
And that’s generally true. And yet…
Over the following weeks, as I sat with that simple statement and looked at my own reactions to things, I began to see the truth in what that veteran writer said.
The fact is, I am more inclined to like something if I like the person who created it. I want their book, their painting, their meal, their design to be good. I want to believe it’s good. It’s a kind of alchemy that comes with affection.
The idea here isn’t to manipulate (no one likes that). It’s to make it easy for people to come to your book. To pick it up. To spend precious money, precious time on it. To be predisposed toward liking it (though I’m sure it really is brilliant).
To tell others about it and create that mystical word of mouth.
And, in so doing, you build a following: readers who will join your virtual community.
That panel discussion in Montréal was many years ago. Before Facebook and Twitter. Before Instagram.
Before anything called “social media,” there were blogs and newsletters and websites. So much has changed, and yet the fundamentals have not. People are still people. We have the same needs that we always did. And the same needs as others.
That piece of overheard advice has become the heart of what I try to do. Not sell books, at least not overtly. Certainly not sell myself.
In my posts and newsletters, I simply talk about the world around me—both literary and personal. I talk about my life. As a woman. As a writer. The successes, but also my vast collection of insecurities. My at times almost crippling fears.
The failures. And the triumphs.
What it’s like to be both a published writer and a human being. I have never, ever told anyone to buy my books. I’ve told readers that they’re available, and left it at that. They can take the next step, if they want.
I initially saw the posts as a sort of diary, left open for others to read.
But then something unexpected happened. Over the years, with each event, each blog post, each newsletter, each book, more and more people came not just to the books, but to the blog, and later the Facebook page.
More and more signed up for the monthly newsletter.
And they wrote back, telling me about their lives. Their families, their jobs. Their struggles. Sometimes they wrote about my books, but often they didn’t.
On Facebook, they began to discuss their favorite authors. They shared devastating medical news and talked about their journeys through cancer and dementia. They told us about recent births. And job promotions. About the weather.
They wrote about their lives.
And their messages didn’t just sit there. I’d respond when possible, but so did others. Independent of me. It became a conversation. A virtual bistro.
It reminded me of the allegory (I’m not sure if it’s true or not) of the gorillas who, when the group is threatened, advance to meet that threat. Screaming, beating their chests, baring their teeth and glaring at the aggressors.
But every now and then they’ll reach out and, without looking, touch the gorilla next to them. To make sure they’re not alone.
That’s a bit what this felt like. Without, thankfully, the aggression.
We couldn’t see each other, but when we reached out, we knew someone was there. We were not alone.
What else is community, if not that?
Where Do I Start?
I’d like to give you my thoughts on how to create your own literary community. To balance the practical purpose as a writer, to sell books, and the human rewards of being among, in the words of Anne Shirley, “kindred spirits.”
One way to meet other writers, and readers, is in person: book tours, library talks, crime conventions. When you go, force yourself to chat with strangers. Most writers I know, myself included, would just as soon hide in the hotel room. Do not do that. Unless you want to reach out and discover there is no gorilla beside you.
For most writers, the web is where connections lie. However, if your social media presence doesn’t impart a sense of belonging, you haven’t created a community, just a marketing ploy. A sort of Disney World, fun for a while but fake and ultimately callow. It may sell books, but we’re talking here about community—or rather, communities.
There are several different, and often intersecting, types of communities for a writer.
There’s the company of other writers. Writers do not compete with one another, not really. Indeed, the most successful, certainly the happiest, among us are those who help and support and promote each other. With writer friends, you’ll know you’re not going crazy when you hate your editor or publicist, or get lost in the “muddle in the middle” of your latest manuscript. You’ll know you’re not the only one to have no one come to a book signing or to be certain that your book is a dog’s breakfast.
There are practical benefits, too. We introduce one another to favorite booksellers and librarians. Promote each other’s books on our social media.
We champion each other.
When you’re starting out, you might consider joining, or forming, a collective of writers who will take turns posting on social media. There are quite a few of those groups. Their readers will discover you, and vice versa.
But ultimately what you want to do is create a community of your own readers.
First, you need a road in, some way they can find not just you and your books, but one another. You need a platform.
Before I go further and you invest any more time in this, I need to tell you that I am no specialist in social media. I have no statistics about which platform is the most effective or how often you should post. (Enough so that people are happy to see you pop up, and not so often that they want to throw up?) Is Twitter better than Facebook? How about Instagram? No idea. You’ll figure out what is the best fit for you.
Pick your outlet, and once you start posting, consider adding value: holding contests, doing giveaways, even forming a book club. Make it attractive for people to visit and revisit you
r site. And to tell their friends about it.
But once they’re in your “world,” why would someone stay? How do you turn a literary tourist into a resident and a booster?
Why do any of us, if we have a choice, live where we live? Convenience, perhaps, though other places are probably just as convenient. Friends? For sure. Familiarity? Absolutely. Laziness? Guilty.
But finally, it comes down to that ineffable knowing. In your heart. You belong.
How powerful is that? What a great gift. To belong. To find home.
Building a Literary Home
Creating a literary home for our readers is one of the great goals. We try to do it in our books, in the worlds and characters we create between the covers. But if it can cross that fourth wall so that it also becomes a place of belonging in real life, what an experience.
Readers are attracted to your characters, your setting, your world. You. But for it to be vibrant and alive, a community must take on a life of its own.
That happens with time. With care. With trust.
That happens when people know they are not simply being manipulated into buying books, but that there is something far more profound, more meaningful, at work. They see that this community may be virtual, but it is also genuine.
This is a creation that goes far beyond people enjoying your books. It can change lives. It can change your life, in ways more meaningful and lasting than any bestseller list.
There are, of course, boundaries. You need to find for yourself where the lines are. Sometimes they shift, or are hard to define.
What is an inappropriate post? What happens when people are rude to each other? When a disagreement becomes an argument becomes a fight?
For the most part, you set the tone. People look to you for leadership on what is acceptable comment.
And then there are the personal boundaries. How far do you let people into your life?
I needed, through trial and error, to make the distinction between what is private and what is personal. What to post and what not to.
I’ve made mistakes, of course. Oversharing. Undersharing. But eventually I found an equilibrium. I will tell people quite a lot about my personal life, my home, my routine. Often, with permission, about my family and friends. They become fixtures in the “village.”
But I do not talk about topics I consider private.
You must know, too, that there are flash points, issues that you feel strongly about that others will not agree with. Only you can decide how open you want to be about those.
Just know that if you do take a stand, some people will disagree. Which, of course, is fine. You probably don’t want to create a fascist state.
But the result, when your views are known, could be a certain migration out of your virtual village. When I have taken stands, those losses, while sad, were a price I was willing to pay. And, interestingly, they were almost always offset by new people finding our little village because of the controversy.
It’s not, in all honesty, something I do often, or lightly. But it happens.
I have only ever asked one person to leave. Which they did. I can’t now remember the exact post, but it clearly crossed the line into hate speech.
It’s important to know that your community revolves around not just your books, but you. And what you write in your posts, how you write, has an impact.
Community Goals
You, and any online assistant you may depend on, need to keep some goals in mind.
Try to be good stewards: respectful, genuine, warm, and tolerant.
As much as possible, write all the content—the posts, the tweets, the text on your website and in your newsletters, etc.—yourself. If you can’t, then make it clear when it’s not you writing.
It’s vital to have your “voice” known and recognized. It must be sincere and consistent.
Treat each “villager” as a person and not as a potential sale.
When you are starting out, much of your effort can appear to sink into a void. It’s a little heartbreaking when you post and no one responds. When you have ten followers on social media, all with your own last name. When few, if any, show up at a book signing. We’ve all been there. And the fact is, these efforts are never wasted.
Don’t be discouraged. You are making important contacts. Laying the foundation for a literary home, open to all. With you at the heart of it.
Of course, there is a reason no reality TV show has followed the life of a writer. We pretty much just stare into space most of the time. And mutter. Expletives. Often, there isn’t that much to say, if you’re trying to post every day.
As time went on, I’d talk about writing. About the weather (I am Canadian, after all). About something funny that happened. About the terror of handing in a new book and the writhing that comes with reading the editor’s notes. (How dare she not see that every word is genius. Genius, I say!)
About the upcoming tour. Or being on tour. I’d post photos of the snow. Of the dogs. Of my life with Michael. All was going swimmingly.
And then… something happened.
Michael was diagnosed with dementia.
Should I mention it? (That was not my first reaction.)
Where’s that undulating line between private and personal?
Michael and I discussed it. He was a doctor and felt strongly that disease of any sort was nothing to be ashamed of. He did not want to be hidden away, and he sure didn’t want his dementia to be seen as embarrassing.
It was just something that was happening to us.
And so after we told family and friends, and had the time we needed to absorb the news ourselves, I posted on Facebook.
By then, readers had gotten to know Michael—his smile, his bright blue eyes, his humor, and his steadfast support. We went on tour together and to conventions where he met and bonded with readers and booksellers. He had become a personality in the virtual village.
To be honest, up until the time he was diagnosed, I had seen social media as something that helped my career. That all changed with Michael’s dementia.
People responded by writing about their own experiences. They wrote with support. With suggestions. With encouragement and understanding. With generosity and courage, they opened their lives to us. And gave us strength.
Slowly I lifted my head and saw what others in the virtual village already knew.
We were not alone. This community I’d created for others was there for us, and was as real as any brick-and-mortar town.
We had a circle of friends around us physically, thank God. But we also had these people who were not simply followers. What had begun as an audience I was trying to reach had become my wider circle of friends.
I will tell you, sincerely, if you can be involved in the creation of that kind of community, you are fortunate indeed.
It’s just possible that book sales are not the end product, not the purpose or the prize.
The community is the reward.
BEV VINCENT
Story is what characters do when confronted with a situation.…
I took a gamble a few years ago and decided I would not only promote my work on Twitter but also embrace my political opinions. It was a calculated risk—I knew I could turn potential readers off. However, much to my surprise and delight, once I turned into a Twitter activist, my following exploded.
Legal Considerations
What every mystery writer should know about publishing law
DANIEL STEVEN
Ask a mystery writer about criminal law or police procedures and you’ll likely get a lecture. But ask that writer about copyright, defamation, or privacy claims—and you’ll get a blank look.
Every writer is capable of understanding business and legal issues, but writers often don’t know what they don’t know. This article will focus on what is important—and what you generally don’t have to worry about. This is not a substitute for and shouldn’t be used as legal advice—you should of course consult an attorney to ass
ess your specific situation—but it is provided to give you a baseline understanding of some of the issues to consider.
What You Should Know about Copyright
A writer’s stock in trade is copyright. It prevents others from copying or publishing all or a substantial part of your original work.
How do I get copyright? You become the owner of your original work the instant it is fixed on paper, saved to disk, or recorded for the first time. Publication is not required. Copyright is intellectual property: a “bundle” of various rights you can transfer, sell, assign, and leave in your will. The U.S. Copyright Act specifically gives the copyright owner the exclusive right to do and to authorize others to do the following:
Reproduce the work in copies or electronic form
Prepare derivative works based upon the work
Distribute copies (electronic or paper) of the work to the public by sale, rental, lease, or lending
Perform or display the work publicly
What can be copyrighted? Copyrighted material must be an “original work of authorship” fixed in tangible form. “Original” obviously means it was created independently, not copied from someone else. “Work of authorship” means it fits within certain broad categories in the Copyright Act: literary works, musical works, choreography, graphic and sculptural works, motion pictures and audiovisual works, and sound recordings. (A letter, for example, is a literary work for copyright purposes.)
What cannot be copyrighted? You can’t copyright ideas, titles, names, short phrases, slogans, concepts, discoveries, procedures, lists of contents, or facts, no matter how original or unique. That’s why so many books and movies have the same title. Some titles can be trademarked, but that’s another story.
How do I secure my copyright? Despite what many believe, a formal registration of a work with the U.S. Copyright Office is not required—as noted above, copyright is instant when the work becomes “fixed.” But you should register, no later than the date of publication. I don’t think it is necessary for you to register unpublished works when sending your manuscript to agents or publishers. A reputable agent or publisher won’t risk its reputation by stealing your work, and a disreputable agent or publisher will typically be interested only in getting fees from you. Once your work is published, however, registration is essential. It establishes a public, searchable record of your ownership and is a prerequisite to filing a lawsuit against an infringer. More important, if registration is made before the infringement or within three months of first publication, the law confers significant additional benefits, such as statutory damages (compensation without a showing of actual loss) and reimbursement of your attorney’s fees. You can register online for a thirty-five-dollar fee (at www.copyright.gov). Your publishing agreement may require your publisher to register the work for you upon publication.
How to Write a Mystery Page 27
