I've never felt comfortable with the art of selling. Or being sold to, for that matter. My philosophy has always been ... if I want something, I'll choose to buy it, on my terms and in my own good time, thank you very much. So, selling has always felt a bit ... desperate. Grubby even. Nevertheless, I understand that if I want anyone to buy my book, which currently sits in glorious anonymity on a digital shelf, on a cloud somewhere (I think - don't quote me on that), I'm going to have to find a giant red pointy thing to point at it, accompanied by some commentary that suggests how unfulfilled your lives are without owning a copy of my book. Or something like that. It also means stumbling blindly into the minefield that is social media. Fortunately my partner in (marketing) crime - Vickie - is doing all the heavy lifting. Thank you Vickie. This image is a grab from a digital poster being used to promote my book on social media (or something like that - again, don't quote me). Meanwhile I am left wondering ... with such an aversion to selling, why is my best mate a salesman?