Yes, you, Gentle Reader. I'm looking right at you. You! See, probably more than you realize, Lightfall's success depends overwhelmingly on you. That's because Fear Nought, while awesome in so many exciting ways, suffers in one important area from the unavoidable sin of being new: Its books aren't listed in Ingram yet.
You've probably never heard of Ingram, and that's okay; prior to two weeks ago I never had, either. Ingram Book Group, as this Wikipedia entry explains [1], is a distributor of books to thousands of booksellers nationwide, including all the major chains: Borders, Barnes & Noble, Hastings. Even Amazon derives sixty percent of its books from Ingram. Problem is, if you're a publisher with fewer than ten books on the market, Ingram doesn't want to talk to you. So even if the upfront costs weren't prohibitive, Fear Nought would be unable to provide books to major retailers throughout the U.S. via the Ingram (or, for that matter, Baker & Taylor) database. Of course we're working on that situation from our end, but in the meantime, we're obliged to pursue some rather unusual distribution angles.
The bottom line is, we Fear Nought authors can shill our books till the cows come home, but good as they are, it won't matter a toot in a hurricane unless you love those books and, just as important, their authors. I've met both Anna Childs and Neil Lynn Wise, my predecessors on the Fear Nought "label," and they're both normal, friendly, unassuming people who just want to see their literary efforts achieve due success. In order for that to happen--and frankly, in order for Fear Nought to turn a worthwhile profit as a publisher--we need vigorous word of mouth campaigns. We can't run those. You can.
Over the next week or so, Lightfall will start arriving in your hot little hands. (Let's all take a pleasant moment to savor that. Ahhhhh!) If you've clicked on the "Buy Now" button at right and preordered a hardback, I'll be signing your first edition copy over the weekend so Fear Nought can send it on its way. If you've visited the Lightfall link at Smashwords [2] to purchase the e-book edition, then guess what, you're already reading the book four days early, lucky dog. I suspect the Amazon link will go up by the end of next week, and the audiobook edition will follow shortly thereafter. And if you like the book, as I seriously, sincerely hope you will, then I need you to do me and my publisher a huge favor. This is serious now. I really need your help, Gentle Reader. You.
I need you to tell everyone who'll listen how much you loved reading Lightfall. This is no mere gimmick to make you feel important. You are important. Your testimonial matters dozens of times more than my promotional efforts. If you hate the book, and I suppose someone will--it's inevitable--then I hope it's not you, okay? But if it is, I'd be eternally grateful if you didn't share that with anybody else. Email me instead, and we might have an interesting conversation about it.
Let me tell you a story, a true story about a guy named William Paul Young--a former office manager and hotel night clerk from Alberta, Canada--who wrote a Christmas book for his kids. After friends and family responded positively, Mr. Young decided to self-publish his novel, which he called The Shack (lousy title, let's be honest). He was unable to attract either an agent or publisher for the book--I know how that feels--so he and two former pastor buddies created their own publishing label, Wind Blown Media, to format and publicize it. Apparently one of Young's partners maxed out a dozen credit cards to pay printing costs. A leap of faith? You bet.
That was 2007. Over the course of a year, word of mouth built and built until, in June of last year, The Shack hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list. It's been hovering near the top of that list now for a year and a half, earning a readership comparable to that of any name-brand author. Now, I've never read The Shack, and probably never will. Its brand of groovy neotheism isn't my cup of tea. But lots of you did, and I know why. Believe me, it wasn't Young's $300 promotional website, the only publicity effort he could afford.
I first heard of the book when two unrelated friends recommended it to me over the course of a single weekend. That's selling power. That's why The Shack has over seven million copies in print. That's the power you wield. And it's the reason why The Shack, which William P. Young sold out of his garage only two short years ago, now has a chance to affect and inspire people all over the world.
Word of mouth is the ultimate commercial. If you're a Dan Brown fan or, like so many of my friends, an unapologetic "Twihard," then you know what you can do for a book and its author. So before things get crazy (and believe me, they will), let me take one last quiet moment to ask you humbly and respectfully for your assistance in the delivery of a book that's more important to me than even I expected when I first started writing it. Spread the word. This is our baby now.