Author: Dan Blank

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

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by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

Ever since I started writing Bittersweet, each woman I’ve told about it (or who has read it) has, almost to a person, wanted to tell me a story about a best friendship she experienced in her own girlhood. This doesn’t come from nowhere; Bittersweet centers around the friendship between Mabel Dagmar, a nobody from Oregon, and her college roommate Ev Winslow, daughter of a wealthy East Coast family. Mabel and Ev’s relationship is full of the ups and downs of girl attachments with which, I’ve come to learn, many women identify.

The outpouring of stories about friendship these women gave me, unprompted, connected with something Dan said back in Building Your Author Platform—the idea that when you’re trying to sell your book, you can’t just hold it up and say “buy my book;” you have to provide a platform that connects to questions within your book, generously offer that platform to your potential readership, and trust that by following that line of inquiry or interest, those people will find their way to your book. If you find the element your desired readers are passionate about, and let them explore that passion by hosting and encouraging their thoughts, opinions and experience, you’ll connect to them on a much deeper level (John Green and Gretchen Rubin are both perfect examples of this theory in play).

The idea of providing my potential readership a platform to share their friend stories was so simple and obvious that it almost slipped through my fingers. It took Molly Stern, the publisher of Crown, telling me about one of her girlhood friendships for me to realize I should recognize this gift women connecting with my book wanted to give me. A blog seems an obvious platform for such a project, but I fretted that would be too much work, and that perhaps the project was too off-topic if I am strictly trying to bring readers to Bittersweet. Certainly, Mabel and Ev’s friendship isn’t only what Bittersweet is about, and at first I worried that connecting to the friendship aspect of the story would limit what my readership might expect the novel to be about. Even now, I recognize that it will be part of the challenge of this project to build a concrete bridge from Friendstories.com to Bittersweet, so that all the work I’ll be putting into Friend Stories will have a direct input upon my writing life.

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

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by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

In our phone meeting on Friday, Dan asked a tiny question that opened up a can of worms (he’s good at these). “That background photo on your Twitter profile—the one that’s the outline of your son flexing his muscles—does that really align with your brand anymore?”

See what I mean?

The picture, taken at a family excursion to the White Flower Farm, is of my superhero-obsessed kid’s shadow flexing against a sheet of filmy plastic. I took it, then posted it to Twitter when I first overcame my fear and signed up back in the fall. I suppose I used it because the image was aspirational; it said something private to me about where I wanted to be in my life and career—brave and bold as my kiddo.

Half a year later, I’m nowhere near as bold and brave as he, but I’ve sold a book in the meantime, a book about, among other things, a family retreat at a lake in Vermont, a photograph of which would probably be much more apropos.

But Dan’s question went even deeper than that. It made me rethink my Twitter profile (“novels about the American family”) because a Twitter profile, in my opinion, should be a distillation of my brand—personal or professional—a nugget of truth about myself. The truth is, my Twitter profile doesn’t reflect what Bittersweet is really about, and, as I think about it, not really what The Effects of Light and Set Me Free are, at their core, about either. The two other books I’ve written but haven’t published help me see what my work has in common with itself, despite my books’ vastly different subject matter (life in a West African village, nude art photographs of children, life on a reservation, writers plagiarizing each other, and, now with Bittersweet, a summer in a seeming paradise); thematically, every book I’ve written is about outsiders desperate to fit in.

I said as much to Dan, adding that I realize that’s actually my life’s mission statement in many ways—an outsider who longs to be an insider but can never quite get there (I suppose that’s exactly what makes me a writer, and what I share with many other writers in spades).

“Well then,” Dan said, “why don’t you make that your Twitter profile? Just say something that means, ‘I’m an outsider who’s always wanted to be included, and that’s what my novels are about’?

And I thought “Yes!” And I thought “Am I allowed to do that?” And I thought, “That’s going to be really scary.” And I wondered why I felt that way.

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

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Miranda and I have had two “official” meeting so far on the book launch, and as we approach a yearlong process and comb through hours of informal conversations, setting priorities is key.

In our first conversation, I dug deep into her goals and expectations. With so many things we “could” do, I want to ensure we are spending our resources on things we “should” do, and scrap the rest.

So I did a basic audit of her core online channels (website, social media channels, etc) and talked to her about each. I ALWAYS love hearing the emotional responses writers have to each channel, and the complicated history. A website is never just a website. It’s a story.

We also reviewed core messaging, how it represents where she WAS, and perhaps not where she is going.

And we also went over some marketing and platform ideas for the next year.

On the second call, we dug into foundational things we need to execute on right now, including the parameters for this blog, as well as another blog on the topic of friendship that we are developing for her. In a moment of total luck, I found a domain name for her friendship blog that I still cannot believe was available: http://FriendStories.com

We went deep about both the practical side of the friend blog and the deeper purpose for it. So so so much of what we are creating we want to do in a way that connects with others based on story and community, NOT “marketing” a book. It’s a funny balance, and I am constantly checking myself to ensure we don’t “jump the shark” anywhere.

I also built this blog for her and began posting content. Again, lots of tiny decisions about branding and ensuring it is not exploiting anything. That’s why, at least for now, the design of this blog is ENTIRELY different from my normal WeGrowMedia.com website design, and my logo isn’t anywhere. I’m so excited about what we are creating for Miranda, I want to be constantly sensitive that nothing gets in the way of creating something special.

Next up is developing her friendship blog, and digging much more deeply into how all of her channels will work – from redesigning her main website, reviewing the messaging on her social channels, her headshot, the imagery she uses, and setting up an email list. And that’s just for starters.

It’s going to be a fun year!
-Dan

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

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by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

Even though I live in New York, I’d never been to BEA before; when I sold Bittersweet in February, I resolved that this was my year. Why on earth would I want to go to BEA? As the hilarious Jami Attenberg put it on her Twitterfeed, “UGH BEA WEEK.” It’s basically the same sentiment I’ve heard from other authors, one I recognize in myself; most of us are introverts, and I find that often makes us averse to reaching out to the business side of book making. But this coming year for me is all about building a bridge between the imaginary worlds inside my head and the real world that publishes and reads those worlds I’ve created. So it was off to BEA I went, if only to get to the bottom of Jami’s “UGH.”

I found an inexpensive admission ticket through the Author’s Guild, which is a great organization I’ve belonged to since first selling The Effects of Light. I invited some writer friends along, but their reactions ran the gamut from “we’ll see” to something along the lines of Jami’s sentiments. So I found myself a few days out, realizing I was heading to the biggest US book convention (one authors seem roundly terrified by) all by my lonesome.

Thank goodness for Facebook. One post and I had a few friends secured who’d already planned to attend, not to mention Dan, who was headed there for two days of exploring the floor. He insisted I join as his buddy, and so, on a ninety degree Thursday morning, I found myself entering the AC-chilly air of the Javits Center (where I had also never been, and came to learn was one of the main reasons for the “UGH”—freezing air, concrete floors, expensive food, fluorescent lighting). As overwhelming as the conference seemed at first, I began to realize there was something strange and wonderful about being in a place full of people dedicated to books. By no means were all of those people my people, but we all held something in common, the love of (and belief in) books. It’s rare that I’m in such company.

Dan and I spent much of our two days at BEA wandering up and down the aisles, talking between ourselves, and with others, about the business side of publishing, which I rarely get the chance to do. To tell you the truth, I found myself actually having a good time talking about the ins and outs of the business. More than a few people I met were shocked that a writer had come, voluntarily, to BEA, and I’m not sure I’d go again unless I had a signing to do or something like that. But if I do end up going back next year, here are a few reasons why (And a sidenote to Dan, who is always telling me to take pictures: I did take pictures, a lot of them, and then my iPhone broke and I lost them all. Yeah yeah yeah, I should be backing up to the iCloud. But one has to learn that lesson the hard way. In the meantime, these words shall have to paint the picture of all the fun to be had at BEA):

1) Swag. Do you know how rarely authors get free stuff? Usually it comes in the form of a friend’s book you’ve been asked to blurb/review. It was so fun to accumulate a stack of new children’s books I know my four-year-old will love, and come home with some books for me that weren’t by people I know. Not to mention the high-quality tote bags (canvas tote bags!) that I restrained myself from accumulating the first day and then gave into on Friday. My husband almost kicked the bags and me out of the house when he saw how many I’d brought home. But it’s my belief you can never have too many tote bags (book themed tote bags! That are free! Free!!!). And there were free Legos. Who can complain about that?

2) I got to meet Geoffrey Hayes!!! He’s a children’s book author my sister and I adored when we were little; his four picture books, starred a rambunctious bear and his mother and such lines as: “Patrick, act your age!” “I’m only four,” which has been quoted in my family ever since. Anyway, I just happened to be wandering the BEA floor and then, boom! There Geoffrey Hayes was in the flesh, wearing an adorable little cap, signing a reissue, no less, of the Patrick books. It was so, so, so amazing to shake his hand and thank him for creating a character who has been so important in my family. He even penned a picture of Patrick on the title page.

3) Meeting the extraordinary Gabrielle Giffords. My friend Lauren Grodstein and I wandered the floor together before her signing in the Algonquin booth for her new novel, The Explanation for Everything (due out in September). When we got back to the booth after shoving our faces with popcorn, we found none other than Gabrielle Giffords standing in the middle of the Algonquin booth, holding Lauren’s book, no less. It was extraordinary to meet someone with such grace doing such important work on behalf of gun control; as mamas of little boys, Lauren and I were so moved to meet her.

4) Overhearing great lines like: “He was a terrific writer. But he was also a crackhead and a murderer!” You can’t make this stuff up.

5) Seeing my friends rock even though they’re a little out of their comfort zones. Lauren Grodstein signed The Explanation for Everything wearing some fabulous high heels. My neighbor Rachel Urquhart signed The Visionist with a smile on her face even though she’d confessed to me the day before that she was terrified. It’s lovely to be able to give a high five or a hug to folks who’ve been working so so so hard on their writing, and are finally showing it to the world.

6) Unexpected meetings. I got some great tips about tote bag-nabbing from Jeffrey Lependorf of CLMP. I ate some delicious Mo Willems pigeon cupcakes with Colleen Lindsay, whom I follow on Twitter but have never met. And when I went to get Elizabeth Silver’s The Execution of Noa P. Singleton signed in the Random House booth, I was recognized by Crown’s director of marketing, Jay Sones, which was impressive and blush-worthy.

7) Booth designs and cushy carpets. I loved seeing what each publisher put into getting their “brand” out, into how they wanted to be perceived; from the playful banners to the luxurious carpeting to the sleekly designed booth walls.

8) Grumpy Cat, Chip Kidd, et al. Even though I walked right through Julianne Moore’s signing, and stood a few inches from Gabrielle Giffords, the only time I was ever asked to “move along” was when Dan and I obliviously stumbled upon the Grumpy Cat signing, which I later read was an epic event this year.. There was such a sense at BEA that at any moment you might turn the corner into something fantastic; my last five minutes there, I wandered past Chip Kidd signing a beautiful poster I only had to wait a couple minutes for. I avoided the epic line for Curtis Sittenfeld’s Sisterland, but when I circled back after forty-five minutes, she was just sitting there by her lonesome with a small stack of books and she signed one for me right away. I loved the kismet of such moments.

9) Cocktail hour. At 4pm on Friday, everyone started drinking. Suddenly, the booths were filled with bartenders and the aisles were filled with beer-guzzlers.

Okay fine, I might go back. ☺

This is part of the Bittersweet Book Launch case study, where Dan Blank and Miranda Beverly-Whittemore share the yearlong process of launching her novel. You can view all posts here.

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by Miranda Beverly-Whittemore

When I first got Dan’s estimate the day after our lunch meeting, I was overcome with abrupt panic. One of the strange things about being a working writer (or any kind of freelancer, I suppose) are the hidden expenses (or, put more euphemistically, investments) that one must make in one’s own career. A book advance is broken up over three or four different calendar dates (signing, delivery and acceptance, publication, paperback publication), fifteen percent of it goes to the (hardworking, deserving) agent, and a large chunk goes to taxes, so what sounds like a lot of money upfront actually turns into much less than a living wage. I’m so thrilled to have sold another book after five long years, and to be finally bringing income back into my home, to be helping my hardworking massage therapist/ book editing husband with some of our expenses, and that means that much of the money I will earn this year is already earmarked for non-writing life needs (preschool, rent, taxes, etc). It’s hard sometimes to remember that some of that money must be put back into my career, that it is precisely because I haven’t earned any income from writing in the past five years that I must reinvest some of this money I have now into my career with an eye toward what an investment could change for my writing future (often, I find it is easy to look at it the other way around). So that means trying to figure out how much of Dan’s estimate I can cover, and whether I can offer other values to him outside of purely financial ones.

Dan and I had briefly discussed the possibility of turning this process itself- the one I am writing about right now- into its own kind of cross-promotion for both of us, and as a way for me to provide a tangible value to Dan’s business, which I very much believe in. So I started to keep this diary with an eye toward the possibility that we might use it in some capacity, either as a blog or an e-book about the case study of putting Dan’s ideas about author platform into practice (which is very meta to imagine if someone is reading this in the future in such a future location- hi future! hope it’s sunny). I believe so strongly in the work Dan is doing, in the fact that it builds a bridge over that vast chasm of knowledge and/or promotional expertise that, in my experience, isn’t often covered by writers or publishers: that unnamed, liminal space between what is quantifiable (how many books sold, positive print reviews, etc) and what isn’t (the generosity of an online presence that ushers new readers toward ones book, and the ideas within it, effectively). Dan and I believe in generosity, and I admire how he talks about being as generous in one’s online life as one is in one’s real community. I like to believe that as a mother and friend and family member, I am generous, but it is so difficult to know how to translate that personal trait into something equivalent online. So I am thrilled by the possibility of seeing how to go about that through someone else’s eyes, if baffled about how I would go about doing that on my own.

It is hard for me, after years of feeling so dejected about what went wrong with my first two books sales wise, and trying hard to sell books over the last five years, to remember that the advance I have earned from Bittersweet may well be just the tip of the iceberg, that I don’t need to be like a little squirrel hiding her precious acorns under the biggest tree. For the first time in a long time, I know that I will be earning money for the next two years (and hopefully more). It’s hard to let go of that doubting, let-down self, the one who could only rely on herself and her work. There is something selfish and yet self-protective about that way of life- nothing lost, nothing gained. But I’m ready to try things a different way- to try extending a generosity toward a readership I don’t have, to building something more for my career than just blind faith that my book is good enough to simply rise to the top. Publishing doesn’t work that way, at least not anymore. Time for me to join the twenty-first century. So I scrounged through my bank accounts and made a decision that I believe will have a lasting effect on not just this book, or my career, but my life. Yay to working with someone who believes in this journey!