Originally published as Ruminations #7 www.coffeewithcutter.com

You often hear writers say that writing is a lonely job. And it is, really. You spend countless hours sitting on your own, hammering out word after word, page after page, with no help from anybody else. It’s just you and your thoughts, for better or for worse. I don’t think I’m too far off the mark by saying that writers are, by and large, introverted folk. I’ve been somewhat in the middle ground between introversion and extroversion throughout my life, but I’d argue I’m more introverted than extroverted. I tend to feel most comfortable when I’m by myself, sitting in a coffee shop or in my study/nerd-cave with my headphones in (usually listening to some variation of metal). Writing is a lonely hobby; it can be maddening, pull-your-hair-out frustrating, but at the same time, it’s the closest I can get to a legal hallucinogen. When I was working on The Ascension of the Seventh, I spent so much time writing in coffee shops, dreaming of the day when my manuscript would become an actual book. Hours upon hours were spent in solitude; writing, editing, re-writing, deleting scenes, adding new scenes, and then…

… it was time to go out and actually promote it.

I wouldn’t call myself a natural salesman. My father is, though, and has been for many years, but I haven’t inherited his skills. I grew up going to comic-cons and would often feel inspired meeting creators in Artist’s Alley. I still find it inspiring now, seeing creative folk self-publishing their own creator-owned works and reaching out to an audience without the backup of a mainstream publisher. I’ve met quite a few well-known figures at conventions in the past (Frank Miller, Tobe Hooper and George A. Romero being memorable stand-outs), but it’s always inspiring to meet with writers and artists who’re navigating these turbulent waters by themselves, creators who're just beginning to forge their own legacy. As a kid, I often used to visualise myself sitting behind my own table at events and selling my own work, and last year, I was lucky enough to get my first taste of what that felt like. Realising that I would have to go out and essentially become a salesman for my book, I did some research as to where I could sell copies of The Ascension of the Seventh, and out of the three requests I sent out, only one replied with an acceptance. But as is often the case, I only really needed one acceptance to get the ball rolling. I’ve since attended four second-hand book fairs; from Northampton to Bakewell, to Manchester to Buxton, and each experience has provided me with an interesting insight into the perspective of being on the opposite side of the convention tables after so many years of being on the outside looking in. (Edit: whilst re-editing this blog, I’ve attended a three more events). I must admit, I was a lot more nervous than I thought I would be. It can definitely be quite jarring going from sitting alone with a story that belongs only in your mind, to then being catapulted into a public setting as a salesman with a whole world to sell to people who've never heard of you.

One thing I learned quite quickly was that when you’re sitting at your table, you can’t afford to stay silent, because nine times out of ten, people will just walk straight past you as if you don’t exist. When you're unknown, you have to work a lot harder to make a sale. I swiftly equated the process to fishing; rather than wait for them to come to you, it's down to you to lure them in somehow. Sure, sometimes you get ignored, and that always feels a little frustrating, but it can’t be helped. When people are looking around and stroll past my table, I’ll call out a “hi there, how’re you doing?” or “hello, could I interest you in something different today?” Sometimes this works, other times it doesn’t. (One time, somebody approached me quite quickly, but not to buy a book: she wanted to know where the toilet was.) You’d be surprised how many people nervously approach me as if I’m some kind of maniacal murderer or something. But once they’re at my table and holding a copy of my book, that’s when it gets easier. It’s quite strange, because as soon as I start pitching the premise of my book, my extroverted nature comes out and I don’t struggle at all. Most of the time, after chatting about the story and the inspiration behind it, I land a sale. I’m good at that bit. It’s getting them to spare a few minutes out of their day to listen to you that's the hard part. When people voluntarily approach without a call, that feels fantastic, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over how great it feels to sign a book for a new reader. Although there are often a lot of folk who couldn’t care less about what I'm doing or what I'm selling, it’s always worth it when somebody shows an interest, and, even better, when readers personally identify with the characters in the book. It always makes me feel happy when I hear I’ve written something that connects with somebody on a personal level.

So, in many ways, maybe the business of writing books isn’t as lonely as I’d once believed.