Naked Book Selling

The other day I was having a peculiar conversation with a writer friend about book promotion. Promotion—unless you’re a Big Name or can sleep with your marketing rep and an editor or two—mostly gets left to the author nowadays. So writer friend, who’s mind is even more naughty as mine is, says, ok, how ‘bout this: sex sells.

Um, yeah, ok, but since I ain’t Brad Pitt that’s not an option.

Writer Friend: Maybe implants?

Me says: Nah, I’d just stay in my room playin’ with ‘em all day and get no work done. Or practice makin’ copies of them on the photocopier machine that way writer friend does. (these don’t FAX well, incidentally…)

Writer Friend: Well, what other assets do you have?

Me: I think I’m sittin’ on ‘em.

Writer Friend: Ok, you gotta do it, then!

Me: Do what?

Writer Friend: Pose naked!

Me: Um, we’ve got 10 months till Halloween. One scare a year is enough.

Writer Friend: No, you can maybe photocopy your butt and use it on flyers. Use the slogan, Don’t Let This Book Slip Through the Cracks!

Me: Groan? Aren’t there laws against that kind of thing?

Writer Friend: The fines can’t be that heavy. Think of the publicity you’d get.

Me: Well, maybe I should just have my book covers tattooed on my bum, then…

Writer Friend: That’s it! And wear a thong!

Eek. Conversation over before she decided to fetch the magic markers and start drawing on my cheeks.

But I’m wondering now if maybe she wasn’t on to something? This might be my best angle.