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RAMPANT SELF-FLACKERY AND ME

A snarky piece in today’s New York Times (8/24), affirmed once again why I love the Grey Lady. Besides proving that readers can digest words of more than one syllable, the Times (particularly the Sunday edition) hosts talented writers with tart observations on life that echo my own. Check out “Of Myself I Sing,” a not quite tongue in cheek riff about those who use “over-weening prose” and shameless self-promotion to “strut their entrepreneurial stuff” on social media. Too many writers have taken to heart the bromide that there is no bad publicity (wrong), and that endlessly trumpeting suspect 5 star reviews on Amazon will drive sales.(wrong again)

Although I discount psychobabble, I support the theory that mindless over-sharing has more to do with ego than marketing. Friends who chronicle their every triumph via Face Book are deluded. They vastly overestimate the capacity of their audience for cant. After all, how many e-book sales can one absorb without falling into a stupor?

Personally, I prefer begging. It’s a time-honored, unambiguous tradition that dates from Biblical times. If ‘the quality of mercy is not strained’, the author who throws herself at the feet of a largely indifferent public may be pitiful but never pompous.
(By the way, two of my recently released novels, SWANN DIVE and MANTRAP, have garnered numerous 5 star reviews on Amazon. Available now for your reading pleasure).


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