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Promotion: I wrote Framed: A Villain's Perspective on Social Media. It's an outgrowth of everything visitors have liked about this blog since 2016. It's now on sale for $3.99!
I’ve found myself working at one of the hottest startups of the AI era. This is notable because it’s not an AI startup. The intense workload means that I’ve spent less than two hours on tasks related to my book over the last few months. The free time I have had has been spent training for fall marathons, and by the time anyone reads this I’ll probably have completed my first 100-mile week of the build.
This is the first period of my adult life where I’ve been content to live in the moment. I’m not cooking up some multiyear scheme or pie-in-the-sky secret project. I go on long runs then I walk up to the office and log long hours. This is how I’ve chosen to spend the twilight of my prime, accepting the risk-reward profiles of one pursuit where almost everything is in my control and another pursuit in which so much isn’t.
Recently, when my book was brought up, some of my coworkers involved in “product engineering,” which is similar to what I wrote about in Chapter 7, wanted to know about the economics of my book, Framed. I admitted that I spent a solid amount of money on book promotion and saw an awful return on investment. I also mentioned that I had spent over $1000 sending out free copies of my book, and, probably, half the people didn’t ever acknowledge receipt or say thanks.
My flippant remark got me thinking, “How many people who received discounted or free copies of my book actually said ‘Thank you’?”
Thematically, this blog post is snarky, provocative, and represents a violation of social contracts. But, since I logged pretty much every point of communication in a spreadsheet, I figured it was worth taking a lazy Saturday afternoon and closing the loop on what my “return” was.
How I approached sending promotional copies of Framed
My primary interest in promoting my book was not to make money, but to have people read my book and provide feedback, whether public or private. I didn’t try to entice or shame people into buying Framed. I reached out to over 250 people and offered them free copies. No part of my outreach was automated or “AI.” I personalized nearly every message, shuffling between a few templates for people I hadn’t met before.
The decision flow for indie authors shilling their book isn’t complicated. “Hey, I wrote a book. Want a free copy?” When I send that, I’m hoping:
- You respond to my message
- You say, “No, I’ll buy it myself, I insist!”
- (If not buying it, that you accept the free copy)
- You tell me what format and where to send the copy
- You acknowledge receipt of the book
- You provide feedback on the book, recommend it to others, or reciprocate in some way
There were two groups of recipients. Group A was people who I know and who know me (skewed towards friends). Group B was people who I don’t know, or who would only be very vaguely aware of who I was (journalists, academics, podcast hosts, social media growth people). There were roughly 110 people in the first group and 140 in the second group.
After reaching out to someone, I’d follow up once or twice depending on how strong I thought my initial message was. For friends and family, I didn’t follow up. For professional acquaintances and strangers, I tried to follow up at least once, especially if I put a ton of effort into personalization. Then, for the people who accepted copies and who I thought would be most reliable, I asked for reviews to be written and posted publicly.
Also, I only sent one copy of my book to someone who wasn’t expecting it, and 5 people in the first group were paid editorial reviewers, so the population of the first group was actually 104.
Before continuing, estimate the conversion rates for each of the recipient decisions listed above!
By the numbers: the white glove promotional campaign
In Group A, 104 messages resulted in 71 acknowledgements or acceptances. Off the bat, that doesn’t build confidence. Most of those who didn’t respond were on the fringes: social media bosses I had consulted for, editors I had written for, and older friends I wasn’t in frequent contact with. However, there were close friends who weaseled out of acknowledging the book or directly responding to my offer. Only one said “no.”
The prayer at the initial stage in contacting one’s closest friends is that they universally say, “Are you crazy? I’m buying it right now!” or that they’ve already bought it. At least two dozen close friends and family members, not all identified in my outreach accounting, purchased the ebook when it cost $0.99.
In reaching out to people, only four stopped me and said they would buy it themselves. Unsurprisingly, two of these people are among the nicest and most conventionally “popular” people I’ve ever met. The third was someone I quoted in Framed, who I cold emailed. He said this:
I was able to verify that purchase. The fourth was the owner of a media agency who it turned out lived around the corner from me when I lived in Chicago, although I was never able to verify her purchase:
Group B had about 18 acknowledgements out of 143 sends. This included people who I paid to help with my book and podcast hosts who hosted me. Not good!
For Group A, of the ~65 books I sent, 42 people acknowledged receipt, or later did something that implied they had received the book. That’s 65% who said “Thank you,” boosted slightly by inclusion of certain people who bought the book independent of outreach.
Of those, about 19 wrote reviews (either publicly or privately), almost all requiring extra chasing and follow ups. For Group B, it was much worse, with about 25 copies sent out (according to what I captured in the sheet, but there were also at least another 15 that I didn’t log), roughly 8 acknowledgements of receipt, and one review. The silver lining there was that the reviewer was a respected researcher in the social media space.
As far “other reciprocation,” three people bought me dinner, and perhaps some people had me on their podcast partially because I offered a free copy of my book. I think the madness of the self-publishing space is exposed best by one “indie author” podcast host, who admitted that less than 10% of guests offered a free copy of their book to the host.
Overall, the promotional campaign took tens of hours, tested friendships and personal connections, and yielded very few organic reviews.
