Promotion is sharing what we find important with people who appreciate hearing about it. Marketing is about the reader; who are they and what are they are looking for? The answers help develop your target market and competition awareness.
It’s all about getting readers to find your writing.
This path helps guide to best planning. Whatever stage you’re in, it’s always a good time to outline and review our Marketing Plan. Whether you write fiction or non-fiction, consider where readers would find books or articles like yours, and make sure they can find yours as well.
In the misty moonlight, Aryn crouched on the rooftop and watched the building across the street. She wondered what she’d been thinking when she’d accepted the job. She’d been told it was a house that she’d have to break into. Except this huge building was no house. It was a mansion. The large building and its surrounding land took up at least half the block on that side of the street. And there were practically no trees, just some bushes and flower gardens. So she didn’t have anything to hide behind if she tried to sneak up.
Aryn watched as a pair of armed guards patrolled the outside of the mansion. She frowned as she tried to think. How was she going to get inside? The moonlight might be misty but it was still a full moon, so there was still plenty of light for her to been by the guards. Why, oh why, the young girl wondered, couldn’t her client have waited a few more days, so the moon wouldn’t be quite as bright? She understood how important the item they wanted her to get for them was, but surely a few more days wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The sound of horses clopping along the street reached Aryn, and she looked to see a carriage approaching the mansion from her left. Perfect! she thought. She quickly and quietly slipped down from roof. Keeping low to the ground, she ran up and jumped onto the back of the carriage as it turned onto the road leading up the mansion.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the mansion and the armed guards approached to talk with the driver and the occupants. While they were occupied, Aryn slid from the back of the carriage and quietly darted around to the side of the mansion. She paused to make sure she hadn’t been spotted, then crept along to the back of the mansion. There she found the servants entrance door. She checked it and found it locked, as she’d expected given the lateness of the night.
She pulled her cloth-wrapped lock picking tools from the leather pouch on her waist and got to work. Within moments, she heard the click of the lock. She put the tools away, quietly opened the door, and slipped inside.
After giving herself a few seconds to let her eyes adjust, Aryn closed the door and softly crept across the kitchen floor to the main area of the mansion, in search of the item she’d been hired to steal.
Aryn is a character I used once before on Stream of Consciousness Saturday. You can read it here.
And in case I gave anyone an earworm, here’s the Dean Martin song by the same name:
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “-sty”:
He undid the rope tethering the boat to the deck and jumped aboard. As he steered the boat into open water, he stared at the horizon and thought, “They laughed and said I was crazy. Well, I’ll show them. I’ll find that treasure, then I’ll be the one laughing.” Chuckling, he grabbed the map and checked his course.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “tether”:
Hi, SEers! Mae here with a post about setting. Often when we start planning a novel, we’re focused on developing characters and plot. We know where our novel is set, but how much time do we spend fleshing out details? Do we give it the same amount of attention as we give the background and quirks of our characters? The ebb and flow of our plot?
Think back to some of your favorite books. Despite how much we love a story, often times our memory of it fades with the passing of years. The protagonist probably stands out in your mind, along with a few disjointed memories of plot. But what about the setting? Surprisingly, setting is often what readers remember most, especially when it’s played for mood.
I’m going to give you a few examples. One of my favorite books (which I’ve read two, perhaps three times) is The…
Hey, SE Readers. Joan with you today. Hope you’re enjoying this chilly, um, frigid February. Perfect weather for staying indoors to write.
You’re near the end. You can see the end in sight. You want so badly to cross the finish line and celebrate having the first draft of your manuscript completed.
But there are obstacles in the way. Life doesn’t stop because you’re a writer. There are family obligations and some of us work full-time jobs. Most of us blog and connect with readers and other writers through various forms of social media. And if you’re like me, you enjoy reading and want to build time into your schedule for that.
Is it any wonder we often stumble?
I’m nearing the end of a long-overdue 80K plus manuscript. I planned to finish the first draft sometime last year, but it didn’t happen.
Aleah stepped out onto the balcony. She leaned against the railing and gazed up at the stars and moon shining high above. A light breeze blew a strand of red hair into her face, and she absently brushed it away as memories of Nico played through her mind.
She missed him, longed to see him again, but she feared she never would. The memory of her father catching her and Nico sitting together in the garden came to the fore. He had chased Nico off, warning him never to come back because he’s not good enough for her. Then her father had yelled at her, forbidding her to see Nico ever again because it would tarnish their family’s name and reputation, and then he’d sent her to her room.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away just as a shooting star crossed the night sky. She clutched the necklace Nico had given her and made a desperate wish on the shooting star.
Below the balcony, the bushes rustled. Aleah jumped slightly, startled out of her memories. Then she heard her name being softly called. She leaned over the railing to look, and Nico stepped out of the bushes with a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He held a hand up to her and said, “Come with me.”
Aleah was shocked. “What?”
“Come with me. It’s the only way for us to be together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Your father made it perfectly clear. We’ll leave and start over somewhere else. Somewhere our families aren’t known. Somewhere we can be free and live our own lives. Will you come?”
Aleah looked behind her as she considered his offer, seeing not only her room but all that she’d be leaving behind. The wealthy lifestyle she’d grown up with had been nice enough, but it hadn’t made her truly happy. Not like being with Nico had. She’d only ever been truly happy with Nico.
She turned back to Nico and grinned. “Yes!”
Aleah crossed over to the trellis beside the balcony and carefully climbed down. She took Nico’s hand, and the couple ran off into the night.
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “above/below”: