So, you have finished your book. Yay. Pause for a jig. But then the realisation dawns that you need to promote it and that social networking is a scary place, filled with people we would never, ever want to get drunk with. So – how do we crack it?
Promoting a good cause that just happens to coincide with a book you are desperately flogging is the shortcut to literati gold. If you've written a book about surviving taramasalata addiction or a feminist essay on Geordie Shore, then literary cliques in Penge will happily share it with their followers, in exchange for a vicarious ‘I’m a community activist’ rosette. Group hug.
However, there are a few caveats before you excitedly cut your hair into a bob and take up Am-Dram. You'll need to live in the Home Counties and your attendance at networking events in various book-themed marquees is also compulsory. These will naturally be held in the evening or at weekends, so single mothers without babysitters can forget it now. You won’t be able to join in until your children are 73.
In addition, it is fine if you are ex-working class, as long as you have now cast off that Matalan hue and can call yourself a survivor of something ‘tutty’ from the safety of Surrey. You will also need a blog. Everyone has one of those. It’s like having a diary called ME that you shove in people’s faces, like a Jehovah's Witness coke-head with a foghorn. If you have a blog, you can call yourself a writer. It’s that simple. There are three billion bloggers in Hampshire alone and they all post links on Twitter. Aargh.
If your book isn't about saving the planet from the evils of cashmere, then do not fear. Your book can still do well if you are on the telly. Just post a link to your book /film/ failing BBC2 sitcom and say a self- deprecating *mwah* to your adoring followers. That is all the investment needed to secure a pension for life. For maximum points, also tell them you are raising money for charity by spending time with muggles and Lenny Henry.
If you aren't famous, but have a tenuous link to the media (delivering Caitlin Moran’s latte every morning will do) then just describe yourself as a columnist for The Times. 50,000 Twitterers will immediately follow you, believing you are a remotely useful media contact. They will re-tweet everything you write to ingratiate themselves. Just try not to reply too often to your followers. You will give yourself away. Real Times columnists only talk to other famous people, because the rest of us smell of despair…
My book isn’t about overcoming adversity and it’s not even about a woman who moves to Cornwall to bed the locals and find herself. But does this mean I’m not worthy? I may not have a tattoo but I’ve had some rock and roll. Adopted single mum to two children. Psychology background. Knock knees. I even escaped a small village in Wales to live in the Cotswolds, so I've done ghetto, thank you.
I am a nonentity who has never air-kissed anyone over crudités. All my friends have normal jobs and not one of them lives in London, which means I could have written Ulysses and no-one would ever care. Oh, the exquisite pain of having your email ignored by a teenage intern at The Guardian.
Undaunted, I am taking the guerrilla approach and going so far from my comfort zone that I could pass for a menopausal backpacker. I'm going to learn stand-up. At 42. Me. Stand up. Let that scary thought sink in… Seemingly, getting up on stage and performing with the charisma of an inverted nipple is the only credible route to comedy writing that doesn't require being Queen of Cool already. I have actual tremors at this, so I hope you're proud of yourself, Twitterati.
I'm booking a comedy workshop with Funny Women and will hopefully bond with other writers who can’t be arsed to blog about the school run and ADHD. I need training in how to be slightly funnier than Mrs Brown's Boys, whilst remaining conscious on a stage. So please be kind if I’m lousy. I need to pay my bills and annoy the literati mafia. I think I may have found my worthy cause after all…
Kattykitt (pictured) has a background in psychology and is the author of Where the Hell is Darcy? A Smutty Snorty Guide to Sex, Dating & Relationships. Check out her Facebook page HERE and twitter HERE
