Time to write some funk
Right. I’ve Published Two Books. I’m Coming Home For A Bit Ma
Yer better put on a chicken
I mean, the biggest issue ain’t publishing books, is it now, Mildred?
It’s getting eyes on ‘em.
I think I have proven that if you want a book available for sale on cockrocket.com, it does not take much. Consume the following article if you would like to catch up:
And now, marketing the fuckers
That’s hard because I wrote an article in my medium puberty about how I would never engage in marketing again or something like that.
Reading that article again is like reading a letter from my younger self in my Medium puberty with all of his hopes and naive dreams — A year on Medium seems like a damn lifetime. He may have been naive, but he was also RIGHT.
You mustn’t accidentally end up as a marketing bastard.
But Frank, as a self-published author, you are now, by default, a marketer.
No, you are now by default, a marketer, you bitch.
Terrific.
How do you market without marketing?
I figured if I left the Medium Partner Program, my views would triple because of all the non-Medium subscribers who are left in tears every day when they realise they can’t read my stories — those poor bastards.
Anyway fuck it. I’m back in.
Because I need money and I miss my monthly tenner up the arsehole from Medium.
I mean, technically, to do the experiment properly, I should have probably written every day on Medium without being in the Partner program. But AHEM no time for that now. I need money to buy my carob raisins and Dandelion tea and expensive cat food Yerba Mate and Bonsoy and new underpants since all mine seem to be developing mysterious holes in the scrotal region known as AREA 51.
What is left but to write on Medium and leave a damn link to my damn books and hope that some poor bastards are intrigued enough to have a look?
I mean, I could make a Tik Tok video where I wear a baggy t-shirt and jiggle my man breasts and then sneeze into a quick flash of my arse in a luminous g-string. But that would be marketing, and I do not want to let my younger Medium self down.
It’s not for any other reason whatsoever.
I could also pay cockrocket.com money to market the books that they already take their share of if they sell. But that just seems a bit desperate. It’s like begging capitalism to work for you.
I just think it would make me feel like Tom Hanks thirty six seconds after spunking on Wilson’s face, thinking,
‘How has it come to this?’
I’m sorry, Wilson. WILSON, I’M SORRY.
That bit’s only in the directors cut.
What about a Book Launch?
Well, I thought you’d never ask.
I’d rather suck a frog’s dong at Christmas than make a giant hoo hah about releasing my novelinski .
It's fine if you are JT Omelette or Stephen King, but for us lonely writers who don't have any readers, isn't it a bit stuck up the arse pretentious to have an actual book launch?
So here is my book launch. I published my Novelinski, and I’m officially releasing it buried right at the bottom of this article which no one will ever get this far on cos it’s as dry as a camel’s cock.
It’s an anti-book launch. And thanks for persevering.
