I’ve just published my third book, “Lost Year. A Pandemic Diary 2020”, and like any author, I feel as proud of it as of any of them. A new ‘baby’ sibling to join the first two, “Camp Follower One Army Brat’s Story” and “First We Eat. Food, Life, and More Stories”.
I’m a first-born myself, so am partial to that point of view. “Camp Follower” was my first; I promoted it and toured with it and had many, many pictures taken of it (like any family album can confirm about first-borns.) It sold well, well enough to pay for its production and then some. It garnered some rave reviews. (See them yourself, don’t take this mama bear’s word for it 😉) If I had died and gone to heaven after publication of my first, believe me I would’ve died a happy and fulfilled soul.
Of course, life goes on, and thankfully, I went on with it. I wrote a follow-up book of stories about my military family life, focused on another interest of mine, that being food and drink. “First We Eat”, like any second child, was beautiful, having advantage of its progenitor’s better experiences and even tricks learned from the first. I was eager to promote this baby to the world.
But life goes on, indeed, and plans for publication in the year 2020 meant that my second-round passion for promotion fizzled. You know, like with a second child, it seemed everything I’d learned about raising from having the first, was now out the window with the second – seconds are not clones of firsts! I was stumped.
Oh well, have another?
So along comes my new baby “Lost Year”. And like with the first, as 2021 advances back to the world I understand, I feel that passion for promotion returning, that knowledge of how to get this baby into the world it was born to inhabit. An adorable new book to present to readers! Hurray! But wait, what about that poor middle book? It had so much to offer before the rules all changed. It was the pretty one before the new kid arrived. The first? It still is the flagship book, selling steadily, dependable, secure in its position. The new one? Interest is always high in something so new and timely. It’s the middle book that seems forgotten now, quietly awaiting for all the hoopla around the new one to settle, and then maybe entice readers back with its pretty cover and solid stories. It’s the fun book, after all. Maybe you can give it a try. I’m betting, if you liked its siblings, you’ll enjoy it, too.
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