When I published my first book last November, I couldn’t
wait to get back to my life and reclaim some “me time.” I had big plans mostly
involving catching up on Matlock like the world hadn’t moved on without
me. But it didn’t take long to realize that publishing the book was the easy
part. Nobody warned me that marketing would feel like a second full‑time job, one
that requires sociability (this one hoho), consistency, and a level of digital
stamina I simply do not possess.
Everyone suddenly had advice.
“Use social media!”
“Do videos!”
“People want to see your face!”
Meanwhile, I am the kind that thrives in the background,
minding my business, and avoiding cameras unless I’m curating personal moments.
I enjoy watching other people’s videos, but I do not want a camera in my face,
nor do I enjoy hearing my own voice played back to me. Still, I took some of
the advice with a grain of salt and a prayer. I dusted off Facebook, opened an
Instagram account, and discovered Substack, which has been surprisingly
wholesome.
Back in the day, Twitter (or X, depending on who you ask)
used to be my go‑to, but after a certain somebody took over… well, that’s a
story for another day. So yes, I’ve been using my big three Facebook,
Instagram, and Substack to mention the book. I’m still not sure which one works
best. Some days I’m posting, texting, smiling, and pretending I know what
“engagement strategy” means. But honestly, word of mouth and the occasional
WhatsApp status have been the easiest and most effective.
Three months after publishing, rather than obsess over analytics, I decided to let the numbers speak for themselves. I have to hand it to Amazon, their brand recognition makes people comfortable, and for self‑publishers, their print‑on‑demand system is a blessing. The royalties won’t make me quit my day job, but I’m genuinely grateful for the 65 orders that have come through Amazon so far, with 27 in November alone when I published (thank you friends and family).
I also ordered author copies and have sold a good number
through direct sales. Shoutout to my friend Diana, who has taken me to two
vending events where I sold 10 copies and to my people who sell the book on my
behalf and to those who have carried this book all the way to Uganda, proudly
shoving it into the hands of everyone in their circles. What love!
I’ve also pushed myself out of my comfort zone and
approached people when the moment felt right. One such moment was at a church
event. After the service, I approached an acquaintance, someone I know will
grow into a friend, and handed her a copy with the promise she’d pay me the $20
whenever she was ready. Almost a week later, I got a Cash App notification. She
didn’t send $20. She sent $30, with the note: “for excellent book.” When
I texted to clarify the price, she simply said it was worth $30.
Moments like that remind me that this little project has a
life of its own carried by community, kindness, and people who believe in the
story more loudly than I ever could. Even when I’m worn out from filling my
timeline with sojourning moments, even when the yields feel small by industry
standards, the wins have been big in their own gentle way.
And if Sojourning
in America has found its way into your hands, or if you’ve shared it
with someone on their own journey, thank you. If you’ve been meaning to get a
copy or pass one along, consider this your gentle nudge and my heartfelt
gratitude for helping this story keep moving.
Seriously though… when does one stop marketing a book?
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