Poornima Manco

Author

publishing

Distil and percolate

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I was asked an interesting question recently. As most of you know, all my books have Indian settings and characters. It is a milieu I am intimately familiar with, having been born and raised in New Delhi. Those formative years are what I plumb for my locales, my characters and their stories. I am an Indian by birth, and even though I am a naturalised British citizen now, nothing can take that Indian identity out of me.

The question was, why didn’t I write stories based in the United Kingdom? After all, I have lived here for over two decades and surely that counts for something?

That got me thinking. Why am I unable to translate what I see around me, or my own experiences into stories worth telling? The answer, I think, is distance and perspective.

When I look back on my time in India, it seems like another life. A life that I lived well and enjoyed too, but I was a different person back then. It is so much easier for me to distil those experiences and percolate them to you in the form of my stories or novella. Far far more difficult to do that about my life in the here and now.

That’s not to say that I will not do this someday. Maybe even someday soon. But chances are, that it will take a few more years for these stories to fructify. In the meantime, I will continue to write what comes naturally to me, and if that just happens to be another tale, set in the fertile land of my birthplace, well, so be it!

Parvathy’s Well & other stories

Damage

The Intimacy of Loss: A Novella

Why reviews matter & what’s stopping you?

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Ok, hands up… this is the first time I’m blogging from the WordPress app on my phone and from a sick bed. I am, currently, feeling extremely sorry for myself. I have been sick for five days and the luxury of lying in bed and binge watching ‘Homeland’ has lost its allure. So, I’ve taken to trawling through reviews of my second book… except there aren’t that many to trawl through.

Is it the law of diminishing returns? Or, can most readers simply not be arsed to put in a review? I’ll come to the third possibility later.

Firstly, please understand, to an Indie writer your reviews are IMPORTANT. You know why? Because, even if you say, “hey, I didn’t really care for this book”, it’s showing that YOU, a real, live person picked up the book and read it. It’s life affirming stuff for someone who has beavered over it for the better part of a year!

Secondly, no one is judging your review. No one is checking your grammar, syntax and flow. You’re not writing the novel, you’re just reviewing it. So, if it’s fear of your own command over the language that’s putting you off, don’t let it. You are helping multiple other readers see what they may or may not like about a particular book.

The third possibility is that you have really, REALLY hated the book. You’ve read a story or two and decided that this book really isn’t for you. In that case, there isn’t much point appealing to you. We are clearly a mismatch in terms of writer and reader, and I wish you well in your reading journey with other, more compatible writers. 😊

Finally, an important lesson I’ve learnt in my Indie journey is that Amazon really doesn’t want friends and family reviewing books. So, my apologies to those of you who took the time to read and review the book, only to find it taken down by the great Zon. Please don’t forget, you can still post that review on Goodreads with no such repercussions.

For the people who have written to me or told me in person how much they loved the second book, please do pass the word on. AND get others to review the book. People who I don’t know and people who will not give me a favourable review because of my extremely charming personality.😉

Right, that’s it for now folks! The sick bed blogging has its benefits but I don’t think I’ll be making it a regular feature anytime soon.

For your copy visit:

getbook.at/Damage

The privacy conundrum

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There has been a steep learning curve in my journey as an indie writer, and everyday I find new and marvellous things to imbibe. There is one aspect though that has left me with a bit of a dilemma. Unlike trad publishing where the marketing was taken on by the publishing house and the author remained a remote entity, revealed only through the author bio in the book or via any interviews they may give, indie publishing works on a different premise.

You are not just the writer, but you are also the publisher, marketeer, blower-of-your-own-horn and general dogsbody. In this strange new world, you can only garner readers and followers if you build relationships with them. How do you do that?  By being authentic and coming across as a human being with a life (and without the sole agenda of profiteering by targeting your readers’ wallets). That is all well and good. After all, as a consumer, even I like investing in companies that have people I can relate to, behind them.

The problem lies in just how much of oneself does one reveal? I am a regular user of Facebook and Instagram, and am not shy about posting things. But my audience, in this case, are my friends, my family and my colleagues. Birthday pics, holiday plans and all other trivia of my life that I choose to share is with people I actually know. Do I really want strangers having access to all of me? Where do I draw the line?

My Facebook author page has information about my books, any new launches and a link to my latest blog post. My Insta business page displays pics of interesting destinations, funny quotes, inspiring people and the occasional photo of myself grinning vapidly into the camera. Is this not enough? Apparently not. As I delve deeper into the murky waters of social media, I am exhorted to reveal my ‘process’, my likes and dislikes, that ugly photo from when I was four etc. etc. Really! Must I?

In that sense, I almost envy the trad writer who can focus on the business of writing, and let all other shenanigans be taken care of by other parties. Yet, as I also know in my gut, in indie publishing lies the future.

I was watching a popular talk show the other day. It was quite amusing to note how these celebrities on the couch gave out snippets of information to the host, without giving too much of themselves away. The more he tried to extract, the more they dodged and deflected. Aside of a few sound bites, he came away with precious little. My heroes!

A friend complained the other day about a famous celebrity wedding where only a few pictures and scant details were revealed to the press. Why, she bemoaned, wasn’t the public given more access? After all, they were public figures, and had signed up to be scrutinised for an eternity. I nodded sympathetically while mentally high fiving the couple for doing the impossible: holding on to their privacy amidst the chaos and madness of public living.

Gone are the days of Greta Garbo, the reclusive film actress whose mystique was only enhanced by her need to ‘be alone’. These days, either you play the game, or consign yourself to being ignored. In such a scenario, what is an indie writer to do?

I would love to hear your ideas or suggestions. Drop me a line in the comments & don’t forget to have a look at my books!

mybook.to/PWell

getbook.at/Damage