Howdy Modern Authors!

I have a slightly controversial opinion about book marketing.

I think most authors should spend a lot less money on it.

Especially early on.

And before someone from the publishing industry starts composing an angry email...

I'm not anti-marketing.
I'm not anti-advertising.
I'm certainly not anti-selling books.

But after working with thousands of authors, I've become increasingly convinced that many authors are trying to solve the wrong problem.

They think they need more people to see their book.
When what they really need is more people to care about it.

Those are very different problems.

And throwing money at the first one rarely solves the second.

If you're thinking about how to get people to care for your current or upcoming book, I think you'll enjoy this one.

The Woman Who Refused to Wait for Her Publisher

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to interview Sally Helgesen.

If you're not familiar with Sally, she's a pioneering voice in women's leadership and the author of The Female Advantage and several other influential books.

Her career is a fascinating example of how a book can become the foundation for something much bigger than book sales.

But the part of her story I keep coming back to isn't the success.

It's what happened at the beginning.

When The Female Advantage was published in 1990, Sally wasn't sitting on some enormous marketing budget.

She had received a modest advance.

Her publisher wasn't putting a major promotional machine behind the book.

And like many authors, she could have responded by getting frustrated.

Complaining.
Waiting.
Hoping the publisher would eventually decide the book deserved more attention.

Instead, something interesting happened.

She started receiving letters from readers.
Women were responding to her ideas.
The book was striking a chord.

And Sally recognized that something important was happening.

People cared.

So she made a pretty extraordinary decision.

She left a well-paying speechwriting job and started putting herself out there.

Not just at glamorous conferences.
Not just in front of huge audiences.

Anywhere there was a meaningful opportunity to connect with people who cared about the ideas.

She told me she was willing to fly to Calgary to speak to 60 women if they would buy the book.

Sixty!

Imagine that for a second.

An author today might look at a room of sixty people and think:

That's not really worth my time.

Sally saw sixty people who might care about her ideas.

And she showed up.

Meanwhile, Other Authors Were Complaining

One of my favorite parts of Sally's story is what she noticed about other authors.

Some would call her, ostensibly looking for advice.

But the conversations often turned into complaints about their publishers.

Not enough marketing.
Not enough publicity.
Not enough attention.
Not enough support.

And Sally had a different philosophy.

Instead of spending her energy asking why someone else wasn't doing more, she focused on a much more productive question:

What can I do to make this work?

That's the difference.

One author is waiting for the system to create momentum.

The other is creating momentum herself.

And I think that distinction explains far more about successful authorship than most marketing advice ever will.

Sixty People Is Not a Small Audience

Let's do some quick math.

Imagine you speak to sixty people.

Maybe forty buy the book.
Maybe ten share it with a friend.
Maybe five invite you into another conversation.
Maybe two work at organizations that need exactly the ideas you're teaching.
Maybe one invites you to speak to a much larger group.

Now, those numbers are hypothetical.

But that's the point.

You don't know what a room of sixty people can become.

Because you're not simply reaching sixty potential customers.

You're meeting sixty human beings.

With relationships.
Networks.
Organizations.
Problems.
Communities.
And opportunities.

That's what I think authors underestimate.

A book sale has a relatively clear economic value.

But a participant?

A participant can create value in ways you can't possibly predict.

A reader buys your book.
A participant might help build your career.

Most Authors Are Trying to Skip the Hard Part

Here's what I see all the time.

Someone finishes a book.
They build a landing page.
They hire a publicist.
They run Amazon ads.
They boost LinkedIn posts.

They spend thousands of dollars trying to get attention.

And then they're disappointed when the results aren't particularly impressive.

But I always want to ask:

Who cared about this book before you started paying people to see it?

Who was talking about the ideas?
Who had contributed a story?
Who had attended a conversation?
Who had introduced you to someone else?
Who had asked when the book was coming out?
Who had already experienced the value of your thinking?

If the answer is essentially nobody...

Why are we spending money to amplify that?

Advertising can put your book in front of more people.

It cannot guarantee those people have a reason to care.

And for many authors, especially those writing books to build speaking, consulting, coaching, or other opportunities, that's a pretty expensive distinction.

Paid Marketing Is an Amplifier, Not an Ignition Switch

This is the metaphor I'd love authors to remember.

Paid marketing is gasoline.

Participation is the fire.

Gasoline can make an existing fire bigger.

But pouring gasoline onto a pile of wet logs isn't a particularly sophisticated strategy.

And yet that's effectively what many authors do.

They haven't tested the idea.
They haven't built meaningful relationships.
They haven't discovered what resonates.
They haven't created a reason for people to participate.

But they're ready to spend $5,000 on advertising.

Why?

Because spending money feels like doing something.

And honestly, it can feel easier than the alternative.

The alternative requires you to reach out.

Invite people.
Have conversations.
Ask questions.
Show up in small rooms.
Risk rejection.
Listen to feedback.
Make the ideas useful to actual human beings.

That's uncomfortable.

But it's also where the real learning happens.

You can't outsource caring.

Sally Wasn't Marketing a Book. She Was Building a Career.

This is the part of Sally's story I find most important.

Her early efforts weren't just about getting copies of The Female Advantage into people's hands.

They were creating opportunities for her to teach, test, and expand her ideas.

Within roughly three months of publication, she was doing keynotes and leadership workshops.

And those live experiences taught her something that simply selling books couldn't.

People didn't just want to hear about her research.
They wanted to know how to use it.
How to apply it.
How to become better leaders.

That's an enormous insight.

Because now the book wasn't simply a product.

It was becoming the foundation for a body of work.

Speaking.
Workshops.
Organizational conversations.
Leadership development.
New relationships.
New ideas.
And future books.

That's the kind of career Modern Authors should be thinking about.

Not simply:

How do I sell 5,000 copies?

But:

How do I create 500 meaningful conversations that might change what becomes possible next?

The Room Is the Research

Here's another reason I love Sally's approach.

Every time you speak to a group, you're learning.

You discover which stories make people lean forward.

Which ideas get people nodding.
Which examples fall flat.
Which questions keep coming up.
Which phrases people repeat back to you.
Which problems people actually want help solving.

That is extraordinarily valuable information.

And it's information you rarely get from a Facebook ad.

A click tells you someone was curious.

A purchase tells you someone was willing to pay.

But a real conversation can tell you why.

And the why is where your next opportunity often lives.

I think this is one of the biggest advantages of participation-driven growth.

It doesn't just create demand.

It helps you understand demand.

You learn what people need.
You get better at explaining the idea.
You refine your frameworks.
You discover adjacent problems.

And eventually, you begin to see where your expertise can create value beyond the book itself.

That's how a book becomes the hook.

The Small Rooms Are Where Big Opportunities Begin

There's something wonderfully unglamorous about Sally flying to Calgary to speak to sixty women.

I love it.

Because it's the opposite of what most aspiring thought leaders imagine.

They imagine the big stage.
The TED Talk.
The keynote.
The national media appearance.
The bestselling book.
The impressive speaker fee.

And look, those things can be wonderful.

But they often want to skip everything that makes those opportunities possible.

The community meeting.
The library event.
The local association.
The small company lunch-and-learn.
The virtual discussion with twenty people.
The podcast with a modest audience but exactly the right listeners.
The workshop where someone asks a question that changes how you think about your entire book.

Those aren't necessarily stepping-stones you have to endure until the real opportunities arrive.

They are real opportunities.

And sometimes the person sitting in the back of a room of twenty people is the person who opens the next door.

You don't know.

That's why you show up.

The Goal Isn't to Speak for Free Forever

Now, let's be clear about something.

I'm not suggesting you should spend the next five years giving away your time.
Or fly across the country at your own expense every time someone offers you a microphone.

That would be terrible business advice.

The point isn't to work for free.

The point is to recognize the difference between a small audience and a small opportunity.

Those aren't the same thing.

Sometimes speaking to thirty people for free is a fantastic investment.
Sometimes speaking to three hundred people for free is a complete waste of time.

It depends on who is in the room.

Why they're there.
Whether the topic matters to them.
Whether they can apply your ideas.
Whether there's a natural next step.
And whether the opportunity helps you build something durable.

The best Modern Authors don't simply chase exposure.

They create participation with the right people.

That's a much more intelligent way to build a career.

Here's What I'd Do Before Spending $5,000 on Marketing

If I were launching a book today, and I had $5,000 earmarked for advertising, I'd challenge myself to do something first.

I'd see how much participation I could create without spending that money.

I'd identify communities that already care about the problem my book addresses.

Professional associations.
Companies.
Universities.
Community organizations.
Podcasts.
Industry groups.
Online communities.
Existing networks.

Then I'd start offering something useful.

Not:

"Hi, I wrote a book. Can I come promote it?"

But:

"I've been researching a problem I think your community cares about. I'd love to share what I've learned and have a conversation about it."

That's a fundamentally different invitation.

One is asking people to help you sell something.

The other is offering to help people understand something.

And if the ideas are good...

Some people will want the book.
Some will invite you back.
Some will introduce you to others.
Some will ask about a workshop.
Some will bring the ideas into their organizations.
And some will simply become advocates.

Wonderful.

That's participation.

And once you've created enough of it, paid marketing becomes much more interesting.

Because now you know which messages resonate.

Which audiences respond.
Which invitations convert.
Which offers people actually want.

Now you're amplifying something that already works.

That's a very different use of $5,000.

Your First Hundred Fans Are More Important Than Your Next Thousand Followers

This is where last week's conversation about participation connects.

We've observed something interesting at Manuscripts.

When authors involve roughly 150 or more people meaningfully in the development and life of their books, we often begin seeing a different kind of momentum.

More engagement.
More referrals.
More conversations.
More opportunities.
Sometimes more sales.

Not because 150 is a magic number that guarantees success.

But because the book is no longer something only the author cares about.

Other people have become invested.

And here's what I think Sally understood intuitively.

You don't build that kind of investment by broadcasting louder.

You build it by inviting people closer.

One conversation.
One event.
One introduction.
One small room.
One meaningful interaction at a time.

And eventually, those interactions begin connecting to one another.

That's participation velocity.

Not simply how many people you can reach.

How quickly you can turn meaningful interactions into more meaningful interactions.

That's the growth engine I want authors thinking about.

Stop Asking How to Market Your Book

Here's the question I'd like you to consider this week.

What if you stopped asking:

"How do I market my book?"

And started asking:

"Where can I make my ideas useful to people?"

That one question changes everything.

You stop obsessing over impressions.
You start looking for communities.
You stop worrying about algorithms.
You start creating conversations.
You stop trying to convince strangers to buy your book.

You start helping people understand why the ideas matter.

And you stop waiting for someone else to decide your work deserves attention.

Sally didn't wait.
She got on the plane.
She walked into the room.
She talked to sixty women.

And then she kept going.

Not because she had some perfect marketing strategy.

Because she understood something that too many authors forget.

The best way to build an audience is often to start by participating in one.

So before you spend another dollar trying to get people to notice your book...

Find a room.
Bring something useful.
Start a conversation.
And give people a reason to care.

Because your next big opportunity might not be hiding inside an advertising dashboard.

It might be sitting in a room with sixty people.

Waiting for you to show up.

Happy writing, my friends.

And maybe this week...

Happy showing up.

Eri