Indie author marketing services, built around your book.

The order is the product

The hardest part of buying marketing isn’t the price. It’s knowing what you need and in what order, so you don’t pay for a service that can’t work yet because the thing it depends on hasn’t been built. I watch the same version of it happen constantly: an author pays for a burst of social media, picks up a few hundred new followers, and has nowhere to send them, because there’s no website worth landing on and no newsletter to catch the interest. That money didn’t vanish because social is useless. It vanished because it came first in a sequence where it needed to come third. A brilliant launch post pointed at a dead website is a leak with a budget attached.

So here’s the order, working back from the day the book goes live. Well before release: the positioning that decides what this book and this author stand for, then the two owned things a reader eventually lands on, a website (even a single clean page) and a newsletter with a real reason to subscribe. Those two are the floor. Almost every “why isn’t my marketing working” problem I see traces back to one of them being missing, because without them every bit of attention you earn leaks straight back out. In the weeks before release the launch mechanics switch on: the ARC campaign to seed early readers and honest reviews, the release graphics, and the social and group promotion that create visibility. Those are time-sensitive, and they work far better with the floor already standing, so a reader who catches a launch post clicks through to a finished site rather than a placeholder. After release week the weight shifts to keeping the book alive: the newsletter rhythm that keeps launch readers buying, evergreen social that keeps the backlist visible, and the KDP work that keeps the listing converting long after the buzz fades.

Where you start on that list depends on where you already are. A debut with nothing built gets the most from strategy plus foundation, and social can wait until there’s somewhere for the attention to go. An author with a few books and scattered marketing usually needs an audit to find what’s failing to connect, then whichever fixes it surfaces, most often a newsletter system and a KDP tune-up, because those are the neglected, high-return pieces almost every time. An established author with a working machine needs execution more than fresh strategy. And if your budget or your energy runs out partway down the list, you stop where it runs out and you’ll still have built the parts that compound. Almost nobody needs every service at once. If you can’t tell which stage you’re at, that isn’t something to work out before you email me. It’s the exact thing the first conversation is for.

What changes when one person holds the plan

When you buy marketing piecemeal from different people, each one optimizes for their own square. The social manager grows followers. The designer makes pretty graphics. The website person builds a nice-looking site. All fine on their own, and none of them responsible for whether a reader who sees the post ever reaches the buy button. Nobody owns the whole walk from “never heard of you” to “pre-ordered the next one.”

When I build it, every piece is made to hand the reader to the next one. The post earns a click. The website collects the sign-up. The newsletter sells the backlist and warms up the next ARC. The individual deliverables might look a lot like what you’d buy separately. The difference is that they point at each other instead of sitting in their own corners, and that difference is usually the gap between marketing that drains you and marketing that compounds.

That works whether you book one thing or hand over everything. A bounded need suits a bounded project: one launch, one website, one listing fixed, one strategy you run yourself. Ongoing support suits authors who have decided marketing is a permanent part of the business and would rather hand it over than manage it forever. Plenty of people start with one clearly defined project, see how it feels to work together, and move to ongoing support once they trust that things get done. There’s no wrong door here and no obligation to scale up. I’d genuinely rather sell you the right small thing than the wrong big one, because the small thing that works is what brings you back.

When I’ll tell you not to hire me yet

A services page should be willing to say this out loud: sometimes you shouldn’t hire anyone yet. If the book isn’t finished, if the cover doesn’t signal your genre on a phone-sized thumbnail, or if the writing wants another editing pass, marketing can’t fix any of that, and spending early just spends faster to make a fixable problem more visible. If your budget is genuinely tight, one strategy call to get the sequence right is often a better use of the money than a service you can’t support yet. And if you already enjoy your own marketing and it’s working, you might not need me at all. I’ll tell you that rather than sell you something, because sending you off to fix the real problem is worth more to both of us than billing you for the wrong one.

Fit, genre, and why fiction is its own animal

I work across romance, romantasy, fantasy, thriller, horror, women’s fiction, historical, literary, and YA, with the deepest roots in romance and romance-adjacent ARC campaigns. The more useful point about fit isn’t the genre label though. It’s that everything I build is made for fiction specifically, and fiction sells differently from a business, a non-fiction book, or a personal brand. Readers find and choose novels through genre conventions, tropes, series loyalty, and the emotional promise on the cover, and a marketer who reads for those will make better calls than one applying general small-business tactics to a story. That’s why the copy sounds like your book, why the ARC readers match your genre instead of padding a number, and why the plan accounts for how fiction careers compound across a backlist rather than one launch.

It’s also why the answer to “do you work with my genre?” is almost always yes if you write fiction, and a straight “probably not the best fit” if you’re marketing something quite different. Knowing where my expertise genuinely applies is part of being useful. Tell me what feels messy, and we’ll start with the one piece that will do your career the most good.