Connections

Why do we hate the word marketing so much? Why do we feel like all marketers are cads, charlatans, and time-thieves?

As a writer, your mind is bursting with brilliant ideas. But how do you effectively convey them to your readers? It can be quite challenging to translate your thoughts and concepts into words that will resonate with your audience. However, it is crucial to master this skill when crafting a manuscript. If you fail to connect with your readers on the page, they will not be able to learn from or be inspired by your words. And the worst part? You may have written a masterpiece but if no one reads it, then what's the point? 

This brings us to that dreaded word: marketing. Why do we despise it so much? Perhaps it's because we perceive marketers as shady individuals who manipulate people's time and money. But here's the truth – you are an authentic writer who simply wants to share your work with the world.

Let's begin by focusing on building connections rather than promoting. Who are the last 10 people you've genuinely interacted with, whether in person, over the phone, through text, or email? Let's not count interactions with service providers like the cable guy (although everyone's relationships are different). As a writer, use your skills to engage them about your book. In marketing terms, this is known as an awareness campaign. Share a captivating quote or sneak peeks into the writing process. Ask if they know anyone who may benefit from this connection. Now you’ve started marketing in a clear non-scummy way. That wasn’t so hard. Let me know how you did. 

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Fiction Break

Missing Ingredient

By Liz Dubelman

On a crisp spring day in New York, a couple of years after graduating college, Anna and Hannah were celebrating their new apartment and the gift of life. Both women shared a passion for cooking, finding it to be both therapeutic and celebratory. Perhaps Anna inherited this trait from her days mixing drinks for her father, while Hannah enjoyed mastering immediate and satisfying projects.

They had planned an elaborate menu. They would start with dessert, then head out to shop for the rest of the meal before returning home to prepare it. It's amusing how food is often prepared in reverse order of consumption. The Chocolate Soufflé Cake needed time for the flavors to develop, while the lemon cookie dough would stay chilled until ready to bake. Timing was crucial when creating a great dining experience.

Anna had previously lived with a hostile boyfriend. She and Mr. Mean would argue, but not loudly. That wouldn't suit their pseudo-WASPy upbringing. They were always tense around each other, stuck in a constant state of premenstrual-like bickering and unsure of how to end it. Hannah needed a roommate and helping a friend out was the perfect excuse to leave her own problematic relationship behind.

They began working on the cake, with Anna taking charge of folding the beaten egg whites into the thick chocolate batter. Baking was Anna's forte, and she enjoyed the precise measurements and techniques involved in creating a delicious dessert. Meanwhile, Hannah preferred cooking, where she could improvise and add her own personal touches to a dish. As they waited for the cake to finish baking, they made a shopping list for their dinner: chicken, tomatoes, onions, garlic, peppers, hot sausage, lemons, artichoke hearts, watercress, fennel, and honey. The smell of chocolate permeated the kitchen as they sipped tea while waiting for the cake to cool.

They had found the recipe for Lemon Zest of Life Cookies in the New York Times Magazine and thought it would be fitting to make them, as they celebrated Anna moving on from her passive-aggressive ex.

Once the cake was finished and set aside to cool, they headed out to shop. First stop was the wine shop. Even though they were foodies, they were not well-versed in wines, but they tried to sound knowledgeable by using words like "tannin" and "oak." Ultimately, they settled on a "cozy romantic wine with a sense of entitlement” for under five dollars.

Next, they strolled through the Korean grocery next door, to carefully select their vegetables based on color, texture, and season. They even splurged on some white tulips to add some charm to their dinner table. Unfortunately, there was no sausage available at the butcher that day, but they managed to find a lovely chicken instead. Overall, despite the minor sausage setback, they still felt accomplished and satisfied with their preparations for the evening.

Hannah really liked the new kitchen. It had an old white enamel oven that was quite small. It was split into sections – the oven part, the warmer, the broiler, and a storage area for pots and pans.  She lit the oven with a wooden kitchen match – woosh. They decided to increase their cooking area by using the small Weber that they kept on the fire escape. While Anna lit the grill Hannah finished the cookies. She rolled each one into a little ball, flattened them on the cookie sheet, and dusted them with sugar. Anna arranged the flowers and poured the wine. 

There was a leisurely feeling to that day. While the cookies cooled, they drank their wine. Anna put on some Van Morrison and they danced around.  Five bucks can go a long way toward lifting spirits. Hannah raised the oven temperature to roast the chicken.  

They drained the artichoke hearts and put all but two or three into the food processor Anna had gotten as a birthday present from her brother, a pastry chef in a fancy hotel in Baltimore. To the artichokes they added the juice of one lemon, two cloves of garlic, salt and pepper. They whirled that around and slowly added olive oil. Hannah removed her watch and rings and worked the artichoke paste in under the skin on the bird. Then she stuffed the cavity with the remaining artichoke hearts, half a lemon, and some thyme. She rubbed the skin with olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and more thyme, and put it in the oven for an hour or so. She washed her hands and had another glass of wine.  

Meanwhile, Anna put on the water for pasta.  She washed and dried the tomatoes and peppers. She peeled and halved the onions and placed the garlic in aluminum foil with some olive oil. She put the garlic and onions on the grill.  

Hannah started the salad. She washed the watercress and sliced the fennel and made her famous weed dressing. A woman who had a restaurant in Northern California had shown her how to make it. Mix 1/3 lemon with 2/3 olive oil and the secret ingredient – honey, about one tablespoon.  She told Anna her salads were so popular because of all the potheads in town. She tossed everything together because it’s better when it’s slightly wilted.

Anna went outside to put the rest of the veggies on the grill and Hannah threw in the pasta. They had purchased radiatores – little radiators – because they hold the sauce best. Hannah set the timer and brought a glass of wine out to Anna.  It was a cold night but the heat of the wine and the fire of the grill felt good. 

Anna watched the burning coals for a while. Hannah thought that she was missing the sausage that would have shared the grill with the vegetables. Then Anna said, “I was really fucked up after my father died.  It seemed like I had no time to adjust. My father drops dead and next thing you know I’m being shipped off to college.” She poked the tomatoes for doneness.

“I was so empty. It was like a piece of me was missing. I did things that weren’t me. I couldn’t help myself.” She began taking the vegetables off the grill and placing them in a bowl. She held the bowl and continued.

“I took things. I took things from people I cared about. I took a cashmere sweater from my best friend. I took a necklace from my boyfriend. And I lied. I would help them try to find their things. I would engage in the intrigue, making up possible scenarios about what happened to their possessions.”  The timer rang.  Hannah didn’t want to seem inattentive but the pasta was done.

“Why don’t we go in?  It’s cold,” Hannah said.

Anna squeezed out the roasted garlic and roughly chopped the grilled vegetables in a bowl using two knives. Then she combined it with the pasta. Hannah took the chicken out of the oven and placed it on the counter to rest. As she did, she noticed the watch and rings she had taken off to stuff the chicken. She glanced over at Anna setting the table and quickly slipped back on her jewelry. Just in case.