The Joys of the Self-Promoting Introvert

I think it’s fair to say – marketing? Not my strong suit.

I’m doing my best. Honestly, I am. If anyone out there is actually reading this, it’s possible I’m not even doing too badly. But the trouble is, I’m just too me for it.

I’m British. Old School British. Not for me the desperate yearning to wander round in a bikini on Love Island (trust me, it would be deeply traumatic for all concerned!) or to warble forth upon some TV talent fest with all eyes fixed upon me, trying to decide if I will sink back into obscurity or grace the pages of the gossip magazines forever more. No, I’m British in the sense that jumping up and down and shouting “Look at me and the wonderful thing I’ve created!” fills me with a deep and existential embarrassment to the fullest extent of my soul. It’s like a spiritual cringe. I just can’t praise my own work. It feels wrong at a fundamental level to be so horribly immodest as to suggest that something I’ve made might not be too bad. Oh, I can joke about it, make self-deprecating remarks about my glorious work or daft comments about its magnificence but I would curl up in a ball and hide if I thought anyone expected me to mean it.

And that’s not to mention feeling the burn of the eyes of my nation upon me. One must not boast. One must not be pushy or harass. Be polite and don’t assume anyone has to care. It is the way things should be done.

Unless you’re on X-Factor...

And then there’s the fact that marketing means having to talk to strangers. Now, there’s probably plenty of nice folks out there thinking – what’s wrong with talking to strangers? And you know what – I envy you, you lucky blighters. It must be wonderful to go through life not weighed down with a diabolical dread every time you are required to hold any manner of contact with another unfamiliar human being. It’s like a special kind of torture. My brain – with whom I don’t always get on – takes a particular delight in pointing out that I’m probably being annoying or that no one will be interested in hearing from me or that I’m being a nuisance and I shouldn’t impose. It’s not a fantastic incentive to start a conversation about your book.

And then, of course, there is the joyful prospect of failure. I know I’m rubbish at this sort of thing. I know I find it horribly tough. So what if I completely cock it up? I know it’s possible. I hope I won’t. But one of the joys of an anxious disposition is that little poke just to remind you that you might.

And so, I’m sure you can understand why I find it a bit difficult at times to throw myself into book promotion activities with gusto and verve. Ever tried to big yourself up on social media while curled up in a jittery ball of insecurity and embarrassment, sucking your thumb and rocking? It’s tricky, let me tell you. The typing alone...

So all in all, that makes trying to run around and persuade people to buy one’s book a bit of an awkward experience. And I’m being honest with all of you about it in the hope you will understand and forgive me for my lack of competence at it. This isn’t a great play for sympathy, never fear. I just wanted anyone who reads this to understand and maybe, if they have the same feelings and the same difficulties in their own lives, to know that they aren’t the only ones.

And also to know - as I’ve said, I’m still doing my best. I’m taking lots of deep breaths. I’m telling myself it’s for the greater good. Whether it’s all worth it is for the future to decide. But hard as I find it sometimes, I have to try. Some things are too important not to.

So if you are in the same leaky, anxious boat as me, I hope you’ll give it a try too.  Maybe it’ll be worth it for all of us.