A decade ago the former editor of The Jewish Post gave my debut novel, Christmas Eve Can Kill You, an extremely gratifying review. Unfortunately the late Matt Bellan’s words did not go to the ear of the Almighty but were written on the wind. After a short burst of enthusiasm from local book buyers my “hilarious, readable murder mystery” fell off the radar and I couldn’t give it away. (I tried handing out copies at the Polo Park Mall, in a Santa hat and beard, and a security guard stopped me.) But you can’t keep a good thriller down, right?
Someone said the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expect a different result. Well, I haven’t done exactly the same thing—the new edition of Christmas Eve Can Kill You, published by Outskirts Press, has a nicer cover, no typos and is POD (Print On Demand). If sales fall short of expectations (and prayers) I won’t end up with a truckload of copies sitting in my garage.
Still, according to my marketing guru, even attractive books don’t sell themselves—I have to create a “buzz”. So I surfed up the Amazon, in search of buzzers, and found the following invitation at the bottom of my book’s web page: “Mystery Readers Café: Come On In And Join The Conversation!” So I did.
And had the welcome mat pulled out from under me.
When a stranger arrives in a community that worships the ground Stieg Larsson no longer walks on he should tread softly—and carry an olive branch. Ferdinand bulled his way in bearing a crown of thorns and planted it on Larsson’s headstone. He also hit the “insert product link” too often to suit his fellow mystery lovers, one of whom—after downloading a free “sample” to her kindle—posted a one star customer review (“only because there isn’t a no star option”) to offset the five glowing reviews posted by “the author’s friends and relatives”. Next day “Mystery Girl” apparently had an attack of conscience. Perhaps Amazon deleted the libellous review but we will give her the benefit of the doubt.
Which is more than her cyber friends were prepared to give yours truly. They had no excuse to push the “report abuse” button—my messages weren’t abusive just “abrasive”—so they hit the “ignore this customer” icon. I tried to play nice—fulsomely praising mediocre mysteries written by other Café patrons—but it was too little too late. The Chef finally asked me to email her and when I did informed me that she’d been inundated by emails urging her to “get this %$^# guy out of here!”
So I took the hint.
And pulled another trick out of my marketing guru’s bag.
Say hello to the The Jewish Post's new columnist.
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