What a learning curve the past few months have been!
It is weird that one spends so many years, so many hours trying to get published, to get recognition as a writer or author or whatever, and when it happens you have no idea how to deal with the reality of it all. I have heard other writers talk about this and am comforted that I am not alone in this conundrum.
I was given the 8th November as my publication date, and had no clue what this meant. Obviously, my book would be available, but how and where and who would know are details that all escaped me. The day dawned, my parcel of books and publicity jazz was sitting in the warehouse in Kempton Park awaiting payment from me and customs clearance.
I didn’t think further than that until I got a text from my son, showing the book for sale at a couple of bookshops in London.
“Where did you find that?” I asked.
“Google, Mother,” came the patient reply.
Now what, I thought in a panic, and froze into instant immobility.
Austin Macauley, the publishers, had sent various letters with advice on what to do: take a picture of yourself with your book; get going on social media; they had sent a trailer on video – had to figure out how to get it from my email to my various pages – and the fun began. Selfies and I don’t really connect, but I managed film myself unpacking the boxes and cautiously sent it to a couple of friends, who immediately shared it on various WhatsApp groups.
A few days later I went to book club. The ladies were supportive, all buying a copy, and I felt a bit silly signing them but quietly chuffed at the same time. Judy de Villiers, who organised the two Lowveld Book Festivals here a few years back, looked me firmly in the eye and asked: “What are you doing about the launch?”
“Launch,” I echoed nervously.
“I’ll do it for you,” she said, not waiting for any further inanity, “When shall we meet?”
Dana McFarlane, owner and curator of the White River Art Gallery had spontaneously offered the Gallery as the venue for the launch when she first heard Sipho’s War was being published back in April. Her support and enthusiasm over the months have been so encouraging and it’s the perfect venue.
Slowly the pieces have come together: long-time friend, historian, and archaeologist, Bob Forrester agreed to talk on traditional practices of those days; my son, Mark Elderkin, happily said ‘yes’ to a reading: Nicky McArthur, Editor of Muse Magazine, on board to be the interviewer on the night.
Advertising was next on the list. I called a friend. Dear Jo Crawford took over designing the artwork for posters and adverts with a smile and ‘don’t worry – I’ll send it to you when I’m done”, and she’s done a great job; Erica Fereira, who will take care of the money on the night; Jeanne Boyce who always agrees to help when it comes to food matters.
Casandra Jacobs, Manager of the White River Gallery is abundant in her ideas and help, and a calm voice in my ear!
I have much gratitude for all these friends, for their love and support, but I must give special thanks to Mark, who has been a rock over these confusing and scary weeks. He is the one who has helped still the raucous and insistent voice of that inner critic, encouraging and believing. He has contacted friends about interviews and reviews, visited bookshops to ask them to sell the book, always an idea and a thought of what we might do.
In Eswatini, friends, too are coming together in an incredibly supportive way, and when more details are confirmed, I will have another list of people to thank.
My biggest lesson from all this? Writing is more than a book, it is a whole industry rolled between the covers of whatever is published. First, there is the writing itself, with research, editors, readers, and critiquers, followed by trying to find an agent or publisher, or deciding to go it alone, or hybrid as I have done.
Finally, when you think you’ve done it all, you discover you now have to market yourself and your book!
This is by far the most difficult section of the journey – thank you, everyone, who has travelled some part of the road with me, and those who will be with me for the next book. And the next.
Aluta Continua!
