Is it worth running a Storygraph promotion?
Plus new Flash Fiction piece
Storygraph is a book-reviewing site that allows authors to promote their books with a ‘free’ (to readers) giveaway. I ran one last month, and I’ll give the stats below. For non-authors, scroll down to read my Flash piece, ‘I hear it in your voice.’
I took advantage of Storygraph’s beta promotion. It cost me £37.95 to take part. I offered 50 free pdf copies of The Poster to readers worldwide and 5 printed copies to readers in the UK. Each copy cost me £2.70 to post.
All I had to do was write some blurb and send the PDF to Storygraph. They promoted The Poster for a month, alongside all the other books being offered.
I could track the increase in engagement every day on the useful dashboard. Here are the final stats:
What’s good is the increase in ‘To-read’ numbers: 0 before the promotion! Also, nearly half the people who read my ‘blurb’ decided to enter the competition. It must have some appeal.
When the promotion ended, I was sent the email addresses of all the winners. I sent a congratulations e-mail with a request they review The Poster once they’ve finished reading it. I also included a link to this newsletter in case they wanted to subscribe.
I contacted the three people who claimed their paperback prize (I don’t know what happened to the other two) and asked if they wanted a personal dedication, but only one replied. I’ve saved on postage!
It is too early to tell whether the promotion has worked, but I have put The Poster in front of more people. That is the first stage of selling more books.
The promotion costs were:
Storygraph: £37.95
Postage: £8.10
Books: £0 (I had promotional copies to give thanks to Pen to Print).
Time: Two hours (I’m not including me clicking ‘refresh’ every day to track the stats while the promotion ran).
I earn £2.29 from every sale on Amazon, so I need to sell an additional 21 copies to break even.
You can buy yours here.
I hear it in your voice
I hear it in your voice, I see it in your smile, I feel it in the warmth of your bosom when you hug me. The love and comfort and sense of shared being that I’ve never experienced. Until now. Is this what they call love?
I dare not say it aloud in case it dispels the aura; like a dryad in the woods who I can see out of the corner of one eye as long as I don’t look directly at it.
‘Herman!’ Mother is shouting from the garden. ‘Herman! Get your scrawny, little good- fer -nothing backside out here, now!’
‘Sorry, dear,’ I whisper. I brush a strand of hair away from your nose and squeeze your hand – it feels cold this morning – before I tiptoe out of the room.
When I walk outside, Cedric barks at me and strains at the leash attached to his kennel, causing the wooden boards to groan and creak.
‘Shh!’ I tickle Cedric’s chin, but that only makes him bark louder.
‘Herman quit playing with that mutt and come round here.’
Mother knows things. I know your mother does, too. They all say they have eyes in the back of their heads and they can see things, but my mother really knows things. Like where I am whenever I’m not at home. And where the fish are in the river, and when not to go there because the dryads are singing their sad songs.
‘They’ll make you sad and you’ll fall in the river and stay under,’ Mother says. She knows when the wolves howl at the moon it’s time to stay indoors and push the kitchen table behind the front door. She knows it’s time to sharpen the axe.
You said there was no such things as werewolves, but you haven’t seen the scratches on the tree trunks around the garden, and you didn’t see what they did to Granny Cooper’s old cow, the one she milked to make the buttermilk.
‘There you are, you lolligagging, wastrel.’ Mother stands with her hands on her hips, knee-deep in corn husks. ‘Watcha been doin’ in there? The Shiriff came ridin’ in here, lookin’ for his daughter.’
I look at the red curtain on our window. I hope Mother’s shouting doesn’t wake you.
‘She’s missin’ and he’s right mad about it.’
Stay quiet, my love. I’ll be back with you soon.
‘Herman, what’s the matter with you? Got a twitch in your neck?’ Mother throws some corn husks into a basket. ‘That Shiriff is too big for his hat, ridin’ through here. He should be chasin’ down that ogre that stole them pigs, not frettin’ about his loose-legged daughter.’
Your legs aren’t loose, my love, they’re long and firm. I’ll be back inside soon to protect you. Rest, my love.
This was written from a prompt in the Gotham Writers’ Write-In led by
Very interesting. Thanks for sharing your info about Storygraph. I'll have to check it out for my ARC When Things Go Missing. Have you tried Library Things? It's similar, with monthly promotions where you offer so many free copies of your book and readers can sign up. At the end of the month, they give you the email addresses to send you book to. I signed up to give away 15 books, but got 35 replies. The administrators cull the list because readers are only allowed so many free books, and many sign up for dozens. My final count is 16. Just got the notice today, so I'll be sending emails to each. I'll let you know the results, If you like.
Lovely piece James, another side to your writing