Frightgeist by the checkout

You can't afford to be shy when trying to sell a niche, self-published novel

Until Friday, you could only buy my novel Frightgeist directly from me via my London journalism website or from my local independent bookshop, Pages of Hackney. Now, you can also buy it from my local corner shop, a retail institution called Palm 2.

There are two reason for that: one, because the shop’s proprietor and his staff are very nice; two, because when I was in there the other day I bumped into a popular poet of my acquaintance (who I shall not name) I hadn’t seen for a while, and when we headed to the checkout together I noticed that copies of his latest book were on sale right next to the till.

This caused me to reproach myself. For months, on and off, I had been wondering if it would be out of order to ask Palm 2 to stock my books - both Frightgeist and my account of how the Olympic Park came to be I wrote under my real name - but had never worked up the nerve. My poet pal’s initiative prompted me to pull myself together and, as my photograph shows, I got a result.

“We have a competition,” said Palm 2’s boss, a sweet man called Abdullah, to which I replied: “Please no, because it’s not a competition I can win.” The poet, you see, is very popular.

I am, nonetheless, pretty chuffed to see my books for sale on the Palm 2 counter, and right by the checkout too. I was particularly chuffed to learn this morning that one copy of each had already been sold and to be asked to bring in more.

Of course, when the Popular Poet gets round to delivering more copies of his latest volume, I will probably find my efforts being totally eclipsed and decide to never speak to him again.

Even so, I will be grateful to him for helping me to find a bit of gumption. Selling a self-published novel, especially quite a niche one under a name nobody knows, is no easy task. Every single purchase is a triumph. And with a real-life mayoral election on its way, from now on I’m going after every triumph I can get.