I’m asking people for feedback on a marketing problem for my
most recent book.
When COVID hit I edited an unsold alternate history trilogy
and self-published it on Amazon. I
plugged the books on Facebook and a couple of online writer’s groups familiar
with my work. I have pleased with the
sales of those three books, they’ve covered my car payment for over a
year.
My most recent work is “Armageddon’s Disciples” a suspense/thriller
inspired by my fifteen year experience with the religion. So, relying on experience I plugged this book
on several social media sites, both XJW and non-JW related. Unfortunately, “Armageddon’s Disciples” is not
following my previous pattern, I’ve only sold a few copies.
I hope to create some interest with a reduced-price
promotion. From now until January I’m
taking $2 off the paperback and hardback editions. I want to hear your opinions
of my marketing effors. I can handle
criticism, but silence is driving me crazy.
Plot
summary:
When
they arrive at their meetinghouse to discuss routine matters, three local leaders
of Word of God Foundation discover sixteen-year-old Alice Lahti dead on the
floor. Alice had been under church
discipline for sexual misconduct. The
condition of her body makes it clear she is the victim of a brutal murder.
After a forty-five-minute argument about what to do, the three Servants contact
the religion’s headquarters before they call the police. Called to the scene to
begin an investigation, Detective Ed Franklin finds this delay is only the
start of his inability to understand the Disciples.
In
recent years, the Foundation has promoted several prophecies proclaiming the
imminent return of Jesus and creation of paradise on Earth. These false messages have left some
Disciples, as they call themselves, disheartened. Because the Disciples learned to accept the
religion’s leaders as directly appointed by God, the struggle to find order in
the world, or they rebel against the religion’s strict and myriad rules. Others
take refuge in belief that God still intends to reward their faith.
Ed
enlists Keith Thornton, his neighbor, and a former Disciple, to help him
understand the Disciple's bizarre world.
Keith faces a fight with his wife. Following the religion’s commandments, she is
shunning Keith because he left the religion.
She is fighting Keith in court get custody of their children, so she can
raise them as Disciples. Keith adamantly opposes this, and his teenage son
refuses to live with his mother.
With
Keith’s help, Ed uncovers a world of lies and evasions, illegal pornography,
mental and physical abuse, theft, blackmail, and murder. As more young women turn up dead, fear of a
serial killer lends urgency to the investigation.
Link: www.amazon.com/dp/B09HG4W38G
A
Christmas themed excerpt:
Note:
Ruth and Elizabeth are detective Franklin’s teenage daughters. Karen is his
wife. K2 is Keith Thornton’s son (don’t
call him junior)
Late Saturday afternoon Keith rode with
Ed to the grocery store to pick up a list of items Karen needed. They planned to eat together and watch
“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” Elizabeth, Ruth, and K2 had gone
snowshoeing for the day. They expected
to come home cold, wet and exhausted.
Dinner and a movie suited everyone’s plans. “Ed, I feel like I’m
freeloading. Let me pick this up.”
“If you were
freeloading, I’d push you out the door. I don’t put up with that. Besides, Elizabeth hasn’t complained about
anything for three days. I think she
likes hanging out with your son.”
“He says
they’re friends.”
“That’s what
she says.”
Ed’s phone
buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID and
pushed a button on the dash, picking up on hands-free.
“Hey Steve, be
advised I have Keith with me.”
“Good, I got a
call about a disturbance at the Crystalview Gathering House. Unfortunately,
dispatch could not provide a clear description of the problem; black and whites
are almost there. Can you go see what’s
happening?”
“We’re in my
car, be there in ten minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Ed flipped
switches, turning on concealed lights on the unmarked car. Unconsciously Keith tightened his grip on the
seat and door.
“Don’t be
nervous; I do this all the time.”
“I’m fine. When I was a kid, a car hit one of my friends
while riding his bike. The whole way to the
hospital, he kept asking the crew if they were going to blow the siren.”
Ed
chuckled. Then snapped at a slow-moving
car in front of them, “C’mon, buddy, out of the way. He punched a button on the steering wheel
twice. The siren emitted a “Whoop, whoop.”
The car moved over.
“There, I blew
the siren for you.”
Both men
laughed. Keith turned suddenly
serious. “Please tell me this isn’t
another murder.
“Dispatch
didn’t think so, or they would have reported it, but they didn’t have a clear
idea of the complaint. We hate ‘Unknown
trouble’ calls. It can be anything from
a cat up a tree to mass murder.”
“Cats up
trees?”
“Good
dispatchers sort those out, but some slip through the cracks.”
A few minutes
later, they pulled into the parking lot at the Crystalview Gathering
House. Ed spotted Jose Delrio near the
entrance talking to a uniformed officer.
A woman Ed presumed was his wife stood next to him, two young children
holding her skirt. Two other civilians
argued with another uniformed officer on the entrance porch.
“Looks like
they already have Gunther and Mr. Dahlgren here.”
“I’ll stay here
unless you need me,” Keith said.
“You sure? I
don’t care if you come with me.”
“They won’t
like me here at all, much less in the House.”
“Got it.” He
exited the car. “Gentlemen, how are you tonight?”
“This is a hate
crime, I tell you,” Dahlgren yelled. “I want a full investigation!”
The officer
talking to the Delrio family waved and approached him. “We have a situation here.”
“I see
that. And hear it.”
“These people
are nuts; I don’t understand why they’re so worked up.”
“Don’t worry, I
brought a translator.”
“Good. These guys, who seem to be in charge here,
want us to report a terrorist incident.”
Ed turned and
motioned for Keith to join him. As Keith stepped out of the car, Carl Dahlgren
saw him. He glared angrily at Keith in
the half-light. “We don’t need a
Forsaker to explain things. Outsiders
hate us because you hate The Lord. This
is clearly the work of someone who wants to let us know how much they hate us.”
“I tell you, it
is the work of the devil, a demon sent to torment us,” Jose interjected, fear
in his voice.
“Jose, please
calm down,” Dan said, “Keith, do you mind stepping back. Please?” Keith suppressed a laugh. The Area Servant
was pleading with him.
“No problem.”
Behind Carl, a
uniformed officer suppressed a smile.
“Well, what’s
going on here?” Ed asked.
“See for
yourself,” a uniform answered.
“I will not let
a Forsaker into The Lord’s house,” Carl shouted.
“I’ve already
walked away,” Keith said, nodding toward Ed, “Go ahead, you can tell me about
it when you’ve seen it.”
Ed walked up
the steps into the House. “It’s the
devil,” Delrio yelled again. “You’ll see.
A demon.”
Ed walked into
the vestibule, thinking of Alice Lahti’s body on the floor. The crime scene
people must have finished their work recently.
He took another step and saw what had Jose and Carl worked up. The
‘demon,’ cloaked in red, had a
mischievous smile, a light in the eyes that suggested hidden intent. It certainly did not belong here. He walked back outside.
“Hey Keith,” he
called, “is a plastic Santa Claus a hate symbol?”
Keith could not
help it; he laughed.
“You know,” he
said loudly, so all could hear, “this wouldn’t be the first time some kids with
a little knowledge of Disciples pulled a prank on a House.”
“I want it
investigated and prosecuted,” Carl fumed. “and I want that Forsaker off our
property.”
“Carl, stop,”
Gunther snapped.
“You know,” Ed
responded, “I think this is funny and probably a joke. But we’re going to take Santa into evidence,
get fingerprints and the like.”
“Officer
Franklin,” Dan said, “I suspect you’re right; it’s a joke.”
“Is there any
sign of a break-in?”
“Not that I could
see,” a uniformed officer said.
Ed looked at
the three Disciples. “You guys need to put new locks on this place.”
