Epic Fail!
I’m my marketing man’s nightmare.
I was listening to a well-known Australian writer on the radio this afternoon.
She was talking about her latest release – a story taking place in WWI. Woven into the story is a tin of chocolate.
This writer is adept at marketing and promotion. To entice readers to her Meets and Greets, she had a chocolate made by an Australian chocolatier to give to trusty fans. And to make it even more special, the chocolate is blended with blackberry which is the name of the heroine’s horse.
And in a previous novel about perfume, WWI and France, she had a special French perfume blended and readers were invited to buy the limited edition.
Inspired marketing? Yes, I believe it’s very clever…
This post was inspired by Brian Keene who wrote this.
It prompted me to think about social media and how it works in my life as a writer.
Specifically, Facebook…
Fiona McIntosh is a prolific and extremely popular Australian author and also, I think, something of a superwoman.
Since 2001, she has released over thirty books covering a number of genres and which propelled her into something of a household name. She was born in England but calls the Clare Valley of South Australia her home. Bryce Courtenay recognised something in Fiona that subsequently took readers by storm. I wanted to find out what it was and so I’m pleased to welcome her to my blog today…
I originally opened a Pinterest account as an adjunct to my persona as a writer. The general opinion was that it was a perfect way to give one a brand and to give one’s books a visual dimension. So when I set up my account, I gave it a purely medieval focus – looking at many aspects of medieval life.
The Masked Ball
It’s true! There is going to be a Masked Ball here in May. Held by the Museo Director and with a guest of honour, Dr.Tobias Google. It will be glittering and glamorous and I can’t help wondering if there will be an appearance by the Others, just like in The Last Stitch. I’ve heard there will be prizes during the evening and the most delectable supper . . . and of course we will have the pleasure of the company of our escorts, won’t we?