Who Are You?

If I only knew what I know now

The Write Kit is here to remind you:

1. You Belong

We are your people. Nobody buys and reads more books than writers.

2. Full Potential

Teaching you how to market will help you reach your full potential, reduce your burden, get the most out of your time, and focus.

3. Status Boost

You can achieve things in the book marketing space that experienced professionals and large teams can do — even though you're just a beginner.

4. You Do You

Find your own way of doing things. You control how much control you want to assign.

Now I would love to get to know you and your writing.

Here are a set of questions that I hope you will answer in the comments or notes. I think you will also find that these questions will become the beginning of your marketing plan.

Who are your writing influences?

Doesn’t have to be a person. It can also be an idea, religious teaching, works of nonfiction, etc

Why did you write this book?

How is this book different from your past work?

If you’re a first-time author, you don’t have to answer, but you might use this as an opportunity to explain why you started writing to begin with, or how your writing process differs from what you’ve been up to in the past.

What was it like growing up?

These kinds of questions can be tough to deal with. If you’ve experienced a lot of pain in your childhood, you honestly do not have to go there. Just mention some of your favorite books of [or?] ideas from your past.

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And now a fiction break:

Toxic Diet Plan

By Liz Dubelman

Liza got up from the all-too-familiar position of kneeling in front of the toilet. She tried to avoid eating dairy (it was the worst coming up). She’d told herself she’d go back to purging just long enough to fit into her Vera Wang gowns but not long enough to worry about her teeth. It was the only way to lose weight. All the debs agreed. No one thought it was healthy but it was all right for a special occasion.  

This was the big night. Liza had, in the last month, been to three Bachelor Bunches, the Junior Assembly, the Christmas Ball, the Mayflower Ball (very exclusive), as well as countless cocktail parties, pre-parties, after-parties, and teas.  It would all culminate tonight at the International Debutante Ball.  First, there would be the cocktail party, and then Liza’s escorts (one military, in uniform, and one civilian, in white tie and tails) would take her to The Ball to be presented.  In a few short hours, she would have arrived.  

Liza reasoned that all she had to do was move through time.  That’s really all she’d done for the past month (or maybe her whole life).  She barely remembered the parties, the dress fittings, or even choosing her escorts.  She knew that a deb’s escort shouldn’t be anyone she really cared about.  A deb needed to focus, to give each person the illusion they were the only other person in the room.  A boyfriend would certainly cramp her style.  Besides, she didn’t have a boyfriend.  At boarding school, friends were friends. They didn’t have to be boys and lately, they weren’t.  

This moving through time had real appeal for her, and she had an army of aids to help her bridge the time gap – Dexedrine, Percocet, Valium, Cosmopolitans, television, Advil, coffee, books, methamphetamines, coke, pot, even sex if that’s what it took. It was a delicate balance but worth it not to feel disconnected.  Feeling had always been a problem for her.                                  

As Liza sat in front of her vanity mirror touching up her make-up, she heard the muffled, familiar sounds of her parents arguing.  She didn’t need to listen very hard to know what it was about.  Her father, Christopher, had been having an affair for years. Her mother, Emily, didn’t mind the affair so much but didn’t like being in the same room as Sarah.  Sometimes, like tonight, it was inevitable, because Sarah was the director of the 45th International Debutante Ball.  Liza chuckled a little to herself when she realized that both she and her father would essentially have two escorts. How ironic, she thought. Or was it? She wasn’t sure what ironic meant.  She often faked her way through conversations throwing in words that sounded right.  She was a freshman at Smith and it made her feel uncomfortable that she didn’t know what ironic meant. She took a small vial out of her jewelry box and snorted three big spoonfuls of coke, wiped her nose and went back to applying make-up.

The other debutantes were busy getting ready in small groups, some even staying at the Plaza for the Ball. But Liza was sent away to boarding school and lost touch with her New York friends. She enjoyed the freedom there, even though her parents probably didn't approve of her experimenting. As long as she got into a good college, they didn't care what she did. Tonight was more about their lives and networking, which made Liza uneasy and prompted her to rummage through her purse for some Valium to "smooth things out." 

Emily gave a fifteen-minute warning, but time seemed to slip away when you're doing coke. Liza laughed at the thought of time slipping and sliding, maybe it was the drugs talking. She quickly got ready, taking hits off a joint and popping diet pills before slipping into her beautiful dress - which looked even better through the drug-induced haze. She couldn't help thinking about "coming out" - a phrase that sounded funny to her because she didn't want to come out, she wanted to stay in. She would make an entrance into society and be like Grace Kelly. 

As she stood at the top of the stairs while Christopher and Emily admired her from below, Liza swayed slightly in her six-inch Jimmy Choo heels - just enough for them to see that something was up. And then, just as she had imagined her grand entrance, her heel caught on the hem of her dress and she tumbled down the stairs with a loud doorbell ringing in the background. "My escorts have arrived," Liza thought sarcastically as she picked herself up from the floor.