There’s nothing like reading the marketing copy for your book to see how people who get paid to be socially competent think you should promote yourself. Here’s the blurb for Sexual Revolution, which comes out oh so soon:
“An urgent, hopeful, and unapologetically radical new book about consent, democracy, desire, and the future of sexual politics.”
Oh, god. Unapologetic. That, along with the dreaded provocative, is a word I’m used to seeing in connection with my writing, and it always puts me on alert - because it means that, yet again, I’ve said something most people, most women, would feel the need to apologize for. Clearly I’ve written something that’s going to piss people off. A woman’s opinion is still the miniskirt of the internet: it pre-exonerates any outsize reaction. Provocative. Unapologetic. All I do is describe the world as I understand it. It’s surprising how mad some people get when you do that. As for unapologetic, well, I’m still trying to wean myself off saying sorry every ten seconds on the basis that it saves time.
Friends. I’m going to tell you a secret. Here it is:
Any time you see a writer, a director, a musician, an editor, an artist, or anyone at all who comes up with ideas for love or money launch a project they’ve worked hard on, one of two things are true. Either the person is a nervous tangle of self-doubt , or they have made something boring.
The plural of anecdote is not, of course, data. But in my experience, while not every anxious artist is good, every good artist is anxious - no matter how slick and gracious they are about it on social media, If they’ve made anything worth your time, they’ve had to be at least a little vulnerable to do it. They’ve taken risks. They’ve given up opportunities, chosen this project over all the others, and they’re hoping like hell it was all worth it, that they are worth it, that the raw shard of themselves they slid into the unfeeling cosmos will not be laughed at, or worse, ignored. That the work of their lives and the wild uncharted interior of their weird minds will matter - to someone, somewhere.
The nerves have nothing to do with the quality of the work. Of course they don’t . You can know full well that something you’ve made matters, that it’s the best you can possibly do, and still be wetting yourself with worry - more so, in fact. If you’ve given it your all, it matters far more whether or not anyone else gives a damn.
If you have, for example, tried to draw a blueprint in prose of the structure of gender and violence and pleasure and power and money and democracy, tried to make something that really challenged you and spent three years getting it at least half right - it matters.
I am telling you this so that you may be tender and judicious with the people in your networks who come up with ideas for a living. I’m also telling you this because my book comes out in two weeks, and I really hope you’ll buy it or read it, if you possibly can. I had to take some deep breaths before asking that. Particularly those of you who are already paid subscribers (although I have some good news for you coming up soon - watch this space!). But yes, book sales matter, and presales matter in particular.
To that end, I have somehow charmed the good people at Bloomsbury into giving my subscribers a discount- you can use the code ‘PENNY20’ for 20% on the hardback or ebook of Sexual Revolution on the Bloomsbury website:
https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/sexual-revolution-9781526602190/
If you’re in the US or Canada, the links are here - both to organic locally made artisanal bookshops and the Rainforest Hellsite: https://geni.us/sexualrevolution
If you’re in the UK or Europe, same deal, link here.
PLUS - paid subscribers will get to see some chapters and excerpts ahead of time, including a whole bonus chapter I cut out of the final text!
Wish me luck.
L x
Pre-ordered this half a year ago, curious to finally read it. Good luck!
Pre-ordered!