Yesterday, I emailed a group that reviews books, asking them
to consider reviewing Screwing Up Time.
I’ve known about the group for a long time. I’d had them bookmarked for almost
as long. But I never asked for a review. Not until I asked myself “why.”
Or a better question would be “why not.” Here’s my dialogue
with myself:
Bold me: Why not ask for a review?
Shy me: Uh, I’m an introvert by nature. The idea of drawing
attention to myself is anathema.
Bold me: As a writer, whether self or traditionally
published, you don’t have that option anymore. Next excuse.
Shy me: What if they hate my book?
Bold me: The book has some great reviews. It was an ABNA
quarterfinalist and a Publisher Weekly reviewer liked it.
Shy me: Someone might still hate it.
Bold me: So? Suck it up, girl.
Shy me: They might never even look at it. They have so many
other books. They only review books they’re interested in.
Bold me: And your point is….
Shy me: I don’t know.
Bold me: Honey, “put on your big girl panties” and send that
email. (You gotta love those Southern phrases.)
Shy me: Okay, I’m emailing right now.
BTW, if you'd like to find out the title for the sequel to Screwing Up Time, click here to find a game that gives you the answer
