
Yikes! That header sounds a bit scary. As does a book with a face, a gram of insta, and a whole bunch of linking and pinning. Someone said to try snapping a chat or gigging on read it. But we haven’t published, so, nobody’s read it. Except us, and our eagle-eyed editor. Oh, and the trees and the flowers and the birds and the bees. Well, they’ve listened to me reading out loud.
Did I spot General Hippocastanum, a darling, ancient horse chestnut friend of mine, using his spectacular pinky-white flowers as ear muffs to drown out my peculiar, methodical chant? How rude. Where are a tree’s ears? Apparently, they have them. Or so says Hieronymus Bosch. At least his sketch, The Hearing Forest and the Seeing Field (The Wood has Ears, the Field, Eyes), does. Told you so!
I digress. A thousand apologies. Back to the beginning, and the posting hither and thither of all manner of dubious content in an effort to attract a tribe. Is this really what’s expected of an author to reach and keep an audience? Bet Austen or Dickens never had such guff, and look at their popularity.
Apparently, authors must have souls. Humour. A propensity to act the fool. An appetite for drama and cosplay. A liking for lip-syncing (knowing lyrics is a bonus, means you can do all the actions). And a bonkers host of other entertainment to satisfy a following. We understand newbie authors must engage with readers. Ditch the ego and vanity and braggadocio. Have a word and stop mucking about posting fluffy stuff.

Yikes! That header sounds a bit scary. As does a book with a face, a gram of insta, and a whole bunch of linking and pinning. Someone said to try snapping a chat or gigging on read it. But we haven’t published, so, nobody’s read it. Except us, and our eagle-eyed editor. Oh, and the trees and the flowers and the birds and the bees. Well, they’ve listened to me reading out loud.
Did I spot General Hippocastanum, a darling, ancient horse chestnut friend of mine, using his spectacular pinky-white flowers as ear muffs to drown out my peculiar, methodical chant? How rude. Where are a tree’s ears? Apparently, they have them. Or so says Hieronymus Bosch. At least his sketch, The Hearing Forest and the Seeing Field (The Wood has Ears, the Field, Eyes), does. Told you so!
I digress. A thousand apologies. Back to the beginning, and the posting hither and thither of all manner of dubious content in an effort to attract a tribe. Is this really what’s expected of an author to reach and keep an audience? Bet Austen or Dickens never had such guff, and look at their popularity.
Apparently, authors must have souls. Humour. A propensity to act the fool. An appetite for drama and cosplay. A liking for lip-syncing (knowing lyrics is a bonus, means you can do all the actions). And a bonkers host of other entertainment to satisfy a following. We understand newbie authors must engage with readers. Ditch the ego and vanity and braggadocio. Have a word and stop mucking about posting fluffy stuff.






Readers want to see and hear about your book. The theme of your book. The cover of your book. The characters in your book. The reason for your book. The sense of place in your book. They want to know why they should buy your book. What makes your book better than the rest in a genre? As the author, you must give that reason. Leave a reader in no doubt that your book is a must-have. A tantalising cover. Back cover blurb to grip. Opening lines to hook. Then a call to action. The unequivocal message? It’s all about books. Authors must be real.
So, my writing friend and I are taking it all on board. Listening to advice extolling the benefits of an author website and being master of one social media platform. Remember, content is king. Consider pros and cons. Yays and nays. Rights and wrongs. We understand cosy mysteries aren’t everyone’s bag. Not all will appreciate our writing style. Our characters may be somewhat quirky or annoying; the sort you want to string up by their big toe and mercilessly tickle with a feather. Or two. Or ten. But hey, we authors can’t please everyone. If every soul had the same direction, preference, and sense of humour, then the world would be a pretty one-dimensional place. Where’s the thrill in one dimension?
With all that in mind, here’s to cosplay and giggles and clownish behaviour. Here’s to unfluffing our posts, at least unfluffing where fluff shouldn’t be. Roll out the buffoonery and the lip-sync and the theatre. After all, what’s social media for, if not to be a celebrity? Or a megastar! Hmm … think we better think it out again!
Readers want to see and hear about your book. The theme of your book. The cover of your book. The characters in your book. The reason for your book. The sense of place in your book. They want to know why they should buy your book. What makes your book better than the rest in a genre? As the author, you must give that reason. Leave a reader in no doubt that your book is a must-have. A tantalising cover. Back cover blurb to grip. Opening lines to hook. Then a call to action. The unequivocal message? It’s all about books. Authors must be real.
So, my writing friend and I are taking it all on board. Listening to advice extolling the benefits of an author website and being master of one social media platform. Remember, content is king. Consider pros and cons. Yays and nays. Rights and wrongs. We understand cosy mysteries aren’t everyone’s bag. Not all will appreciate our writing style. Our characters may be somewhat quirky or annoying; the sort you want to string up by their big toe and mercilessly tickle with a feather. Or two. Or ten. But hey, we authors can’t please everyone. If every soul had the same direction, preference, and sense of humour, then the world would be a pretty one-dimensional place. Where’s the thrill in one dimension?
With all that in mind, here’s to cosplay and giggles and clownish behaviour. Here’s to unfluffing our posts, at least unfluffing where fluff shouldn’t be. Roll out the buffoonery and the lip-sync and the theatre. After all, what’s social media for, if not to be a celebrity? Or a megastar! Hmm … think we better think it out again!




Footnote: Got to thinking that General Hippo’s spectacular pinky-white flowers could be his ears. And sensational they may be, but, come Autumn, he won’t have flora. Instead, conkers will abound, and I’ll go on a conker hunt and harvest them by the score. Does that mean ears will disapp(ear)? And I have the gallant gall to call Ark eccentric. Shame on me.
Big Toe note: Or if you prefer, the little toe. Or whatever toe you want it to be! Even no toe.
Instep note: To the editors who spend time adding, crushing, cutting, and generally brutalising our manuscript. We hear you. We get it isn’t a baby. It’s a product and must be treated as such. Don’t think I ever called it a baby, Mr & Mrs Ed. What’s that you say? Ark did. How positively silly of him.
Plantar fascia note: Try wearing orthotics to ease the pain. Drop me a line via the contact page for my friendly recommendations.
Crawly ants note: By the way, those pesky scamps haven’t left my feet since the MS diagnosis. Too attached? Love my crazy socks and footwear? Too damned lazy to shove off and leave my feet alone? Maybe, one day, but for now …
Thanks for reading. After while.
Wen x
Footnote: Got to thinking that General Hippo’s spectacular pinky-white flowers could be his ears. And sensational they may be, but, come Autumn, he won’t have flora. Instead, conkers will abound, and I’ll go on a conker hunt and harvest them by the score. Does that mean ears will disapp(ear)? And I have the gallant gall to call Ark eccentric. Shame on me.
Big Toe note: Or if you prefer, the little toe. Or whatever toe you want it to be! Even no toe.
Instep note: To the editors who spend time adding, crushing, cutting, and generally brutalising our manuscript. We hear you. We get it isn’t a baby. It’s a product and must be treated as such. Don’t think I ever called it a baby, Mr & Mrs Ed. What’s that you say? Ark did. How positively silly of him.
Plantar fascia note: Try wearing orthotics to ease the pain. Drop me a line via the contact page for my friendly recommendations.
Crawly ants note: By the way, those pesky scamps haven’t left my feet since the MS diagnosis. Too attached? Love my crazy socks and footwear? Too damned lazy to shove off and leave my feet alone? Maybe, one day, but for now …
Thanks for reading. After while.
Wen x