Surrender

I think I'm done. The sales of my new novel remain stuck at three after ten paid promotions, and I've done all I can do, short of buying Facebook ads, which seems at this point like just another losing proposition.

I've researched ways to promote women's fiction specifically, but my search didn't yield any results. Apparently, no one knows. It can't be that no one is buying it; some authors produce best sellers, plus a lot of movies are adapted from WF novels. It appears, however, that those best selling authors began their careers years ago, when trade publishing was the only way to go, whereas now I wouldn't say the market is flooded, but any tripe can be self-published. There's no longer any discernment.

I'm not claiming I don't have any responsibility in my novel's failure. I made a deliberate choice to include the word "Nashville" in my blurb, which is perhaps a turnoff, but I was determined not to mislead anyone. If a potential reader hates country music, I'd rather they know what the novel is about before they plunk down money for it. (And it's not as if the story itself is niche; country music is just the backdrop I chose.) 

My blurb could possibly be better. I can revisit it if I have the energy to do so, but blurbs are hard and I don't know if I can improve on it. It would likely turn out worse in the end.

But maybe there is no rational reason; maybe it's just a matter of luck, something I've never experienced. That hardly gives me anything to go on, sadly. Every problem should have a solution, but I can't come up with one for this problem, no matter how hard I try, and time is running out. If a book doesn't catch on right out of the gate, all hope is lost.

That thought is almost a relief. Once time runs out, I can stop thinking about it.

It'll soon be time to move on.