Hungry Dog Boosts My Book Sales

I published a big history book 15 years ago and at the time, Canadian historian Pierre Berton also had one out and he was charging $50 for his. So I charged $50 for mine.

Even at that steep price, I sold a lot of them. I would like to sell even more of them but sales have fallen off.

Yesterday, however, I got an urgent request from someone who had bought my book. Her dog ate her copy and she wants another one.

Cha-ching. Another 50 for me!

This has had me thinking all day about the meaning of all this.

It’s obvious. If more dogs would eat my books, sales would skyrocket.

The woman left my book on a lower level of her bookshelf which is how the dog came to dine on it.

Therefore, I need to contact the many people who have bought my book and encourage them to put it lower on their bookshelves. I will tell them heat rises and the book will deteriorate if they put it too high on their shelves, near the ceiling.

I would suggest the bottom shelf or one up from the bottom.

Next, there needs to be some encouragement for the dogs to make a meal of my book. I might tell the owners that to keep bookworms and mold away from my book, an effective precaution would be to rub the cover with a dog biscuit, maybe even leave a few crumbs inside.

Meanwhile, from my end, I will work on somehow scenting with dog-appealing aromas every new book that I sell.

Who said I don’t know anything about marketing!

Ha!

©2014 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.