What an Unnatural Book Marketer Learned While Marie Kondo-ing Her House

Shaking off our pandemic-induced ennui and embracing what looks like a permanent empty-nester status, the ToolMaster and I are currently surfing a massive wave of decluttering. It’s the sort of purge I’ve craved for years. It’s also quite daunting.

We are both crafty, DIY types with multiple hobbies that require an infrastructure of tools and equipment. Our past careers required a substantial investment in books and paperwork, most of which will be required should we choose to practice again. In my case, I’ve also acquired a vast mountain of writing-related possessions. (Not that you’d know anything about that.)

Also, from an environmental perspective, we dislike the idea of discarding valuable items, even if currently unused. And Covid-19 only cemented our desire for thriftiness and self-sufficiency.

Still, pushing against all the reasons to hold onto our belongings, there is the undeniable craving for serenity and order…

To Keep or Discard? The Method.

Faced with competing urges, we knew we needed to settle on a good decision-making process. We found it in Marie Kondo’s approach.

You might be familiar with her work via the international bestselling book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, or the Netflix series, Tidying Up.

Essentially, she categorizes objects into five categories (clothing, books, papers, miscellany, and sentimental.) You begin by gathering all the items in one category in a single location. It’s important to tackle the categories in the prescribed order as they become progressively more difficult.

Then, picking each item up individually, you observe your body’s reaction to it. Those items which “spark joy” are kept and stored with the respect they deserve. Those which don’t are thanked for their past service and released back into the world, even if never used. (They’ve taught you the helpful lesson that you don’t actually love them or their ilk.)

Suspicious of the Woo?

Kondo’s “sparking joy” trademark phrase reportedly comes from her time as a Shinto shrine maiden. If it strikes you as too precious or spiritual, I’d still urge you give it a try. As the saying goes, your body doesn’t lie. We’ve found this a handy test to circumvent rationalized hoarding and parted with things we wouldn’t have otherwise. We’ve always felt freer for the decision.

But Jan, you ask, what the heck does this have to do with writing?

I’m close to being one of the least natural book marketers in existence, and my shy, introvert tendencies have only become more exaggerated with the pandemic. I haven’t sent a newsletter in a year and a half. It’s been a struggle to post anything online to my social media accounts. The enforced solitude has paradoxically made me crave even more solitary writing time, rather than activities pointed outward.

All the same, the decluttering process has reinforced marketing lessons I’ve encountered elsewhere, but never really understood.

May I walk you through a few items in the clothing and books section to illustrate, then summarize?

For example, what did I choose to do with Item #1, this sexy wardrobe element?

Are you not charmed by both it and my post-Covid hair?

On the keep side: it’s soft and cozy. It’s a sentimental favorite, the ToolMaster having purchased it for those long, wintry writing mornings when the cold would otherwise settle into my bones. In practice, though, it does its job too well, frequently roasting me. I can only remove it by pulling it over my head, resulting in a forceful dishevelment of my hair. Worst of all, I feel sloppy wearing it, and I’m convinced it makes my writing sessions less productive.

Verdict: photo taken for sentiment and hamming-it-up purposes, item given to Goodwill.

Item #2: An autographed craft book purchased during an amazing writing conference when I found the instructor professional and friendly. Sadly, unlike the lecture, the book never quite worked with my brain.

Verdict: the book’s sentimental value is enough to pass the “sparks joy” test. Item retained.

Item #3: A novel that conjures warm feelings for the storyline. Also, an exemplar for a specific facet of craft. Author unknown to me on a personal level.

Verdict: retained.

Item #4: An excellent novel given to me personally by its author before our relationship went downhill. Now I hold it and feel only the sting of toxic emotions.

Verdict: item passed to a friend who is certain to love it, and who carries no associated emotional baggage.

How does this pertain to the task of marketing books?

Using myself as a model, if you’re someone who would like to a) sell more books and b) have them dwell on your readers’ keeper shelves, success is more likely if you:

→Write a book that is useful or entertaining: Teach us something new. Invite us into worlds previously unknown. Introduce us to fresh or unusual obstacles, allowing us to rehearse our response in safe thought experiments. Or earn value by offering a story that whisks us away from current troubles.

→Build relationships with your readers in a way that is authentic to you and consistent with the voice of your fiction, which is hopefully consistent with the person you are. Act professionally. For readers like me—and I refuse to believe I am alone in this—said relationship will automatically imbue your work with more warmth and meaning than it would have otherwise. Kindness matters.

→As you develop an understanding of your work’s usefulness and the positive emotions it evokes, ensure your marketing materials reflect these strengths. I’m talking the title, cover art, blurb, your author photo and bio, what you put out on social media platforms. Will these disparate elements confuse your reader about what you offer, or do they provide a consistent message?

→Finally, go where your readership already exists. We gave away a good quantity of stuff. But we didn’t just dispose of it willy-nilly. We researched the reuse and recycle community in advance, matching our possessions to their requirements. As a result, they rarely refused our belongings and we kept a sizable quantity of materials out of landfills. (Helpful when assuaging decluttering guilt!)

Offer similar respect to your potential readership. Go where they are most likely to hang out. Offer book information in a format that they find accessible and relevant. If you’re willing to do so, potential readers will be more likely to greet your marketing efforts with smiles than suspicion.

Over to you, Unboxeders. Are you a natural marketer? What’s the one marketing lesson you wish other authors knew? And what is your position on decluttering?

[coffee]