In the Et Alia Press “Book Launch Tuesdays” series, writer Charlotte Maya shares experiences and advice about launching her first book from six months before publication date to its first birthday.
Pacing and Patience
My first book arrived on its publication date, just like my firstborn arrived exactly on the “due date” my ob/gyn predicted. I knew that it would take twenty years to launch my child into the world; I didn’t know a book launch would feel that long. I don’t know why I thought that — six months after pub date — my book would be blissfully wending her way into the world, onto bedside tables and e-readers, into hearts and earbuds, without any further assistance from me. I imagined that by now I’d be up to my elbows in writing the next book. That’s not quite how things have gone, and also, things are going well.
It’s impossible to know exactly how a book will find its way to the hands or ears of the person who will appreciate it. Or where it will go from there. I can’t control that piece; I just keep supporting the effort.
In addition to friends and family, my writing circle has been exceptionally supportive. I also found unexpected ambassadors for my book. A PTA mom I had occasionally butted heads with in committee meetings hosted me on her podcast. Another woman I volunteer with highlighted my book on her social media (she later confided that she had lost her husband to suicide). A writer friend of a writer friend introduced me to a professor of clinical psychology who hosts a suicide prevention podcast. A pair of clinical psychologists who work with bereaved children asked me to write an introduction to their book about a child who lost a parent to suicide. When I asked them how they originally heard of Sushi Tuesdays, they couldn’t remember.
It’s impossible to know exactly how a book will find its way to the hands or ears of the person who will appreciate it. Or where it will go from there. I can’t control that piece; I just keep supporting the effort. Maybe with another ancillary essay or social media post. Maybe with a podcast or a presentation.
I attended a book group that had read my memoir about a month after its publication. Afterward, one of the women said, “I told my son that he should have you and your book on his show.” I knew who her son was. I’ve listened to his program for years. Can you imagine anything worse than your own mother pitching a guest for your nationally-syndicated radio program? I didn’t expect to hear anything further. After all, my publicist had already pitched the show. Two months later, I went to a joint college graduation party for the daughter of a dear friend and her boyfriend, who just happened to be the son of the radio host. I didn’t mention my book, but his mother did. Meanwhile, one of my widowed friends, who has her own radio show and has worked at the station for years, was pitching my book as well. In September — Suicide Awareness and Prevention Month — I got a call from the station. They must have had a guest cancel at the last minute, because two days later I was in the studio broadcasting live on NPR’s AirTalk with Larry Mantle. A couple months after that, I received an interview request for a program on the BBC. You just never know.
After my granddaughter was born, her father (my son), said, “I guess now you don’t have to worry about me anymore.” He was still counting his daughter’s age in hours and days and was keenly aware that fatherhood had irrevocably changed him. He had not yet realized, however, that no change he goes through will stop me from loving him, from caring about his well-being and continued growth, from the thrill of seeing him make his way through the world.
