Trail of the Firewriter 27

Let’s pause in our travels through Literature Land. It is time to see where we are and where we are going. I find myself on the good ship Endeavor. We are once again sailing the Promotion Ocean. I realize that once a person writes a book he is going to be on this ship forever. The process of selling ones book is more complicated than it seems. Promotion is a 24 hour a day job. Experts from Infinity Publishing give advice and assistance but the hard work remains for the author of the book. I started this journey to talk about my life as a Firefighter. It was fun to reminice about the adventures I experienced during my working years. The next step was to find a publisher. Once published the book needed a distributor, a publicist, and an advocate. I found those were all jobs that I had to do myself. I started this series of articles to help those who were new to the writing game. My next post will identify what I have learned.

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I am enjoying writing in the new Author Nation P&C Blog so much that I decided to add it to my Trail of the Firewriter Chronicles. If you check out the P&C site you will find John Harnish and LinDee Rochelle helping us by stimulating discussion on what to do and how to do it. The talk was of new years resolutions. My entry was the following. …………………..Man do I enjoy running with this author herd. John and the Irish steer are leading us into a new year. I can feel the momentum of the herd increase as new goals are set. I am still at the rear trying to catch up. I hear the thunder of hoof beats as we pick up speed. The bellowing and mooing of our leaders is loud in my ears. I am running at the back of the pack. There is a lot of dust and confusion back here but the calls from the front of the herd are guiding me to a fun place where writers graze the meadows of success. I have acquired some smarts along the trail. I have found my genre to be fertile ground for my writing. There are not too many Firefighters who write novels about fire fighting but there are a lot of Firefighters who read novels about fire fighting. In the short time I have been in the writing business I have found fulfillment by chewing my cud (bringing up old memories and writing about them). I hope to fatten up on the grasses of the book selling market. I enjoy being on a cattle drive with my fellow authors. My goals for the new year are to move closer to the front of the herd. To bellow louder so my readers can hear me. To not follow the stalking cows that can lead you down pathways to destruction. To improve my writing skills so I can produce more milk. With this said let’s get the herd moving. Thanks to all of you who are traveling this trail and mooing your reassuring calls and comments to the rest of us doggies.

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It has been quite a trip so far. My transiition from old retired Firefighter to published author must rival Clark Kent going into a phone booth and coming out as Superman. I feel invigorated, newborn, and ready for anything. The changes in my routine have been a shot in the arm. I now rise early and get to work. The learning curve is getting smaller. The big pile of marketing books has added to my knowledge. I am avoiding costly mistakes. Creating a website has crowded my computer room with teeming masses of old friends, new friends, and people who want to help. Being a member of Author Nation has been the best part. I am able to fill cyber space with my ramblings everyday. I can talk to my readers everyday and many of them have been extremely helpful. The tour through Literature Land is one of the best experiences of my life. By the way, checkout my new entry about Dumb Bells at the Fire Talk tab on www.rjhaig.com

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I keep wracking my brain on how to get media coverage for my book Fire Horses. I will solve this delemma eventually. This is only a pause in my travels through this strange environment I call Literature Land. I have been invited to a book signing at a motorcycle gang’s club house. I am sure the experience will surpass the encounters I had with the hound dog and crows at the radio station. I am preparing a presentation and taking my police officer son with me to act as a body guard. I have been away from the big city for 16 years. Things have changed and I want to be prepared for whatever awaits me. I am sure it will be OK because the motorcycle club is made up of active Detroit Firefighters. They call themselves the Axemen.

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I entered the trailer that housed the local radio broadcast network. Inside it was as modern as a NASA rocket launching facility. A bright looking young man greeted me and turned down the hillbilly music so we could talk. I told him I was new to the promotion game. I was seeking an interview so I could talk about my book. He explained the process which involved going through many channels before an interview could be set up. It sounded complicated. There were many gate keepers to seek approval from. I thanked him for his time and left him a copy of Fire Horses. He said he would get back to me. That last statment had a hollow sound to it. I figured it was back to the drawing board. Time to find out who to know and who to avoid. It looked like a political game. I had opened another door in Literature Land and it was dark and foggy inside. As I left the building the hound dog didn’t open his eye this time but he did give me two more thumps on the ground with his tail. I was determined to get media coverage. How to do it was the question. When I drove out of the parking lot the crows were cawing and cackling like they were laughing. I hoped it wasn’t an omen.

Trail of the Firewriter 22

Living in a small town like Cheboygan, Michigan is full of surprises. The local radio station produces interesting programing. The Saturday feature is a morning broadcast where you can sell a cow or your used truck. It is amazing the things you can trade on this program. Weather, news, and music characterizes most of the programing but there are some political segments and a time set aside for interesting interviews. My objective was to get an interview discussing my book “Fire Horses”. I looked up the address of the radio station, put on my best suit, grabbed my book and moved through another door in Literature Land. My vision of a radio station was shattered when I arrived at the broadcasting facility. It was miles from nowhere in the bush country south of Cheboygan. There were four tall impressive transmitting aerials reaching a 100 feet into the air. That’s where impressive stopped. There was no building. There was a large dilapitated house trailer with peeling paint. A wooden sign stood near a muddy driveway proclaiming this to be the voice of up north Michigan. Four large crows sat on the sign and eyeballed me as I turned into the parking area. I got out of my car and dodged several puddles approaching the door. A group of goats and an old cow standing in the field near the station mooed and bleeted a greeting as I moved by them. To my surprise there was an old hound dog sleeping near the door. He opened one eye as I passed by and gave two thumps with his tail as a greeting. Was I in the twilight zone or had I seen this dog before? He looked strangely like the dog who spent his day laying by the book store doorway in Cheboygan. I could hear banjos playing inside. I had arrived at the height of the hillbilly music hour. I knocked and entered. I was on my way to another level of book promotion.

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Literature Land is a mysterious place. I had crossed rivers and deserts in my journy. I faced threats of the shark agents in the Promotion Ocean. The post office alligator came close to shutting me down. The foggy maze of cyberspace blurred my vision many times. The constsnt reading of instructional material nearly turned my brain into alphabet soup. It was three years since I started writing my book Fire Horses. I was starting to feel like a horse with a swayed back from carrying a heavy load. On the horizon I saw a bright light. My computer started to bring me good news. People were  buying my book. Glowing reports from people I respected appeared in my e-mail. My swayed back began to straighten out. I kicked up my heels, whinnied at the world, and started to gallop toward the light. My next task was expanding my search for people to contact. It was time to cross into the Land of Airwaves. Radio and Television were my next stop.

Trail of the Firewriter 20

I found the people at the post office helpful. I realized the alligator they kept in the back room belonged to the government. Every time I paid a mailing fee it was thrown though the door and you could near the jaws of the reptile snapping and gnashing on my money. The cost of mailing was set by the post master. The clerks informed me that a smaller fee was charged for media mail. My books qualified as media mail and I could hear the post office alligator roar his disapproval. I roared back when I found out it now cost 26 cents to send a postcard. It was part of my promotional campaign to send postcards. Not everyone has a computer so U.S. mail is the next best choice. I had to stop to figure out costs and profits. I was morphing into a bean counter. God forbid I become one of these strange people who worship the god Scrooge. When I used to negotiate contracts for the Firefighters Union I had to deal with bean counters. They usually had beady eyes. Their hands were frozen in a curled position with white knuckles from holding the purse strings of the city budget. It never mattered how awful the fire protecytion problems were as long as the costs were kept within budgeted estimates. Bean counters also work for publishers, movie companies, and other busnesses. To me they are a plague upon the world but I will grudgingly say they are a neccessity. I had to come to my senses before I became a bean counter. It was like becoming a zombie wandering around rerpeating the word no over and over again. I became aware of costs but I did not give up my risk taking attitude. I had to find the best way to communicate with buyers of my book.