The little girl licked the wooden spoon that came with her ice cream.
“Bet you don’t know my mama name,” said Zoey, the five-year-old daughter of my husband’s client. We were relaxing on the couch, watching Netflix, and eating ice cream. Mine was gone, but she was still eating hers in that gross way children do, ice cream residue around her mouth and dripping from her fingers. I hoped she’d hurry and eat the thing before it melted all the way. It was a hot Sunday.
“Krissy,” I said proudly.
“Krissy what?”
Ole snap. What is the woman’s full name EC? Kristina? Kristy? Kristy Anne? Dang. I forgot the woman’s name. I’ve just been calling her Krissy or Kris like everyone else.
“You tell me,” I said playing it off.
Did I just reverse a question on a five-year-old? Yes. Yes, I did.
“Her name is…her name is…hmmm.”
Zoey seemed confused. I should have felt bad. I didn’t.
“My mommy’s name is—-”
“You don’t know it either,” I teased.
“I know she’s mommy but… just call her Krissy,” waved Zoey, licking the wooden spoon.
“Works for me,” I laughed.
This is what I was doing all day. Watching Netflix and talking to five-year-old Zoey and one-year-old Ziggy. Well, Ziggy and I did not exactly speak. There was something about he had to boo-boo and then he took a nap.
This was my weekend a few months ago. I went on a call with my husband, a retired Military Engineer turned HVAC (Heating, Air Conditioning, Refrigeration) and Maintenance Tech. As a Universally Certified technician, this means he can pretty much work on anything from a home AC system to a restaurant’s refrigeration system. This day, he was installing three toilets for this family, which meant that I would hang out with the wife. I rarely tag along with him on his calls, but he asked me to, so I went. I wasn’t doing anything, anyway.
We were there all day, and the family even made dinner for us. I learned the wife is from Chicago, my hometown, and the husband is originally from Jamaica. I enjoyed the Tilapia and Rice dishes served and had never had a whole fish before! Like, they fried the entire thing, one big slab. Boom. On your plate, ha!
My husband and his client spoke extensively about several things. Somewhere along the line, my book came up, and my husband gave him the link to my website along with links to other things they discussed. (I can assure you I was not an important part of the conversation.)
But when we got home later that evening, the husband sent my husband a text saying that he had purchased a copy of I am Soul.
“Aww,” I crooned. “That’s sweet. Tell him I said thank you.”
Now, for the most important part of the story…
How many times did I ask them to buy my book? Zero.
How many times did I discuss the book with the wife? Zero.
I did not bring up my work at all. What I did was play with the children, watch Netflix, and converse with the wife about food. We talked about why I couldn’t be a vegetarian and other things.
The most important lesson I’ve learned in my 11-year journey of publishing books is the importance of connecting with others and building genuine relationships.
People buy from people they have a connection with. This may be an already formed relationship/friendship, similar interests, personality, hobby, belief system, faith, passions, membership in the same groups, clubs, or similar spirits or vibes. These are the people who will support you. You don’t even have to force it, manipulate or chase. This means that relationships (directly or indirectly) is a major factor in selling books.
Just be yourself and let the vibe of that authenticity light the path, drawing the people to you who are meant to be in your presence.
The mother’s name was Kristina. 
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