I get that as an Indie author, I need to put myself out there. I love doing that. I love meeting new people, and creating fun and lasting friendships. But I admit this whole Facebook "likes" obsession is unraveling me. I'm not an in-your-face person, and waiting and waiting and waiting for Facebook likes to pile up gets tiring for me, lol.
So last night, at my measly 182 likes, I posted a teaser. I wasn't at any great number, quite pathetic compared to a lot of my author friends. And it wasn't a significant moment, but I just felt like it. I tend to have the attention span of a flea and the patience of a gnat so I posted it, and GUESS WHAT? I went from my measly 182 to 240 likes in the span of an evening.
Which gets me wondering - with all the books that are floating around out there and the hundreds, more like thousands, coming out this year, I'm realizing there is more than one way to do things. Some authors put themselves out there right away, they get their likes, they build their fan base, and they sit back and revel in their success. While others are slower to warm. They write the books, put them out there, then build their fire a little slower with networking and chatting people up.
Get to your point, Megan!
Ahem, yes. My point is that I'm learning what is best for me. And what is best for me may not be best for someone else. The great thing about being Indie is I can do this my way. I have no idea what my success will be, whether big or small. That is in God's hands, and I trust Him completely. At the end of the day, I need to be happy with what I've done. And going full-throttle is just not my style.
On that note, if anyone wants to chat me up on Twitter or Facebook, please feel free! Me loves to chat :)
Now, here's the teaser that bumped my likeage.
P.S. Lila, my main character, is the one speaking, and I have changed the male character's names to keep the element of surprise when you read the novel.
Turner’s face twisted with anger and aggravation. A look that said he’d told me so. Brady found his footing again and tacked my feet to the floor while Turner pulled the zip tie so tight it cut into my wrists. I cried out in pain only to realize the horror wasn’t over. Turner had turned away, and I heard a soft click, then a needle glimmered in the glow of the streetlights.
Instantly going still, I swallowed a whimper and backed into the window so hard that I really thought my fingers might break. Liquid squirted from the needle.
“Hold her good,” Turner told him, quiet and resigned.
I couldn’t see Turner’s face as he emptied the needle into my arm. All I saw was Brady. His eyes were pumped with malicious desire as he watched me go unconscious. A greedy, evil spark that I could imagine must match a serial killer’s as they watch the life go out of their victim’s eyes. And the only thing I could think in those last few seconds before the drug towed me under was: how could I have missed that?