Yikes it is hard to promote. Eeeks.
Finishing Line Press has finally sent me my contract and so I feel like I can promote my chapbook. Wait. I mean, that I HAVE to. In order to get a certain press run, I have to make pre-sales. So belly up to the bar, my friends, because now is the time to show your willingness to pay 12$ for a published bit of Miriam! I promise to make it easier for you to buy than it is turning out for me to sell myself...
I am not sure why it is so hard, but a few nights ago Dylan and I had the conversation I now think anyone embarking on a career in the arts or any kind of public office should have: "Just how famous do I *want* to be?" It sounds like a) an egotistical thing and/or b) an unrealistic conversation, as of course fame comes in wily and unpredictable ways, but underneath I found I have some issues (big surprise) about becoming "famous" in any way. Why? That remains to be seen. A simple answer is that of course fame is mixed, right, not always such a pretty bag of baubles (just ask Eryka Badu). But underneath that we all have our reasons, reasons why I don't want to email everyone I have ever known, all the bookstores I love and support and former and present teachers for blurbs. Ugh. It just makes me sick. I just want to write, can't someone else do the selling?
But no one else can. I sell me, it's always been that way, and always will be. Someone else doing it means a reproduction. And so with hesitation and doubt I will do it as much as possible and hope it gets easier over time. Sucha dilemma. Silly me - I thought "Just sell the book and it will all work out." Or maybe *I* will work it out - by working harder and more differently than ever before.