When
our book was published we were told by our publishers that Amazon
reviews were our top, top, marketing priority. We already had a lot
of interest from friends – especially Karin who has a vast army of
supporters. Mine were more "Meh, yeah but Louis Saurez – he really
looks like Bernie Winters doesn't he?" This could be because most of
Karin's friends are women and mine are men, or maybe because Karin
gets a cancer vote, or more likely because my friends are jerks.
Anyhow,
we begged them all for reviews , and 30 blessed angels responded
accordingly. Indeed I happen to know that several of them loved the
book, had read it even. We thank you by name nightly.
However,
because we're grown-ups, grizzled old cowboys who've seen it all
before, we knew that the book would not be to the taste of all our
friends. So we made a big point of saying to everyone not to worry if
they couldn't be bothered to buy the book, or if they bought it but
didn't get on with it, or if they bought it and liked it but couldn't
bear to give us 5 stars, or couldn't get round to writing a review.
We would totally understand. No worries.
Well,
it turns out we lied. I spent an hour this morning writing out a
list of people yet to review or to falsely gush or to even make a
fucking comment and it came to 19. I didn't even know I had that many
friends. I facebooked Karin for a moan. Her illness has given her a
gimlet-eyed clarity of judgement. Bastards she said.
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