If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

Y'know, I remember the day when local papers took up the cause of local writers. Now? The paper here in town had a retirement and is between editors, and nobody else might ever be bothered to contact me about the book, even though I've talked to them and made it easy for them to at least interview me if they don't want to review it. And the same goes for cities where I used to live: I didn't expect much from the paper in Prince George, since it is a very small city, but there's been no response to my follow-up query. In Edmonton, where some of Napier's Bones takes place and where I not only lived but was an award-nominated SF critic for the one paper, that Books editor is away on holidays and I've been told nobody is making any decisions until he comes back. I am also told that they, like most other Postmedia papers, are outsourcing a lot their reviews, even to the US.

I can see now why publishers and writers are relying more and more on social media to get the word out. It's a frustrating thing.

Labels: Napier's Bones, newspapers, publishing, reviews