Ceci n’est pas mon chat (image courtesy Wikimedia Foundation*)
Who am I?
Am I a man or a woman? Am I thirty, fifty or seventy years old? Who are my favourite writers? How well am I progressing with the job of crafting my next novel? What is the name of my cat?
Obviously you must know my gender. My name, Peter Rowlands, is a pretty good clue, and so are the pictures of me on my website. But as for the rest, if you’re a reader who came across my books on the internet, do you care?
Well, a lot of my fellow-writers believe you do. They go to great lengths to keep their own readers informed about what they’re thinking and doing, and how well they’re getting on with their latest book. They blog, they post, they maintain a lively Facebook feed, they send out informative newsletters … In short, they make a continuous effort to ensure that they remain a part of their readers’ lives even when those readers aren’t actually reading one of their books.
I do very little of this, and the lack of public profile worries me. Am I short-changing my readers? More to the point, am I short-changing myself by missing out on the exposure I might be getting?
Extremely boring!
In the past, I’ve justified my policy of keeping a low profile by telling myself that what readers want from me is my books, not my biography or details of my daily life. They would find the latter extremely boring! That’s why I put the majority of my efforts into my novels as opposed to commentary on my life beyond them.
I suppose I take my cue from my own reading experience. For the most part, I’m perfectly happy for the authors I read to remain more or less a closed book to me, if I can put it that way. I might want to know if they’re male or female (or something more nuanced). I might be interested in their nationality, just to get an insight into their use of language. And I suppose I’m interested to know if they’re very young or very old, since that might provide extra insight into their take on life.
Seldom the gods I imagined
But beyond that, I almost prefer writers to remain a mystery. In fact if I chance to see a photograph of an author I’ve been reading, I’m often disappointed. They seldom look as charismatic or attractive as the leading characters they’ve created for me, and sad to say, they’re often older than I thought. Finding that they’re not the gods I imagined, but mere mortals, is usually an anticlimax. I prefer to stick to my own mental picture of them, even if it’s as fictitious as the work they’re turning out.
But really I’m just being lazy!
Yet even as I say all this, I know that basically I’m being lazy. I know perfectly well that in the social media age, having a profile is essential. I can’t claim some principled reason for keeping my head down; I’m doing it simply because anything more than the basics would seem an enormous effort for an uncertain reward. Yet that means I’m falling short in terms of basic marketing strategy.
I suppose the remedy is there if I want to make the effort. I just have to try harder! But until I take my own advice, I have to hope that for most of my readers my books alone will be enough.
Not my cat
By the way, for those who are desperate to know, I don’t have a cat.
*Image by Matti Blume, Wikimedia Foundation
