I am continually amused (?) by the ads my Kindle displays when I open it for use. With two exceptions (Norelco men’s electric shaver shows up occasionally, and the Phillips Wake-up Light), they are always books (which would make sense), and I can tell at a glance they are self-published.*

How? Um, let me count the ways: the cover, the title, or the blurb. But let’s break it down, shall we?

1 Cover: It’s either plain, ugly (badly designed), dated, hackneyed, uses free stock art we’ve seen before, or a combination of all those things. Doesn’t match with the title or the hook/blurb. Bad graphics, bad typesetting. Just looks amateur—like the author’s brother-in-law did it.

2 Title: Too much, too little, doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t match with the cover or the hook/blurb. Doesn’t intrigue. Doesn’t tell the reader anything.

3 Hook/Blurb: Doesn’t make me want to read the book. Makes me roll my eyes. Tells lies (i.e., calls the book “literary” or “best-selling” when one can tell by looking it is nothing of the sort). Is woefully badly written. Has mistakes in punctuation.

It’s that last one—the blurb—that is truly important to discriminating readers. I keep a pen and paper on my nightstand just so I can write these things down, because really, these Bad Kindle Marketing blurbs (presented here uncorrected) are showstoppers, y’all.

• “When Jack stumbles upon a secret that could fracture the country, only his brother can save him. Is Tom Up for the job?” (What does Jack need to be saved from? I thought it was the country that needed to be saved. I could go on and on.)
• “Charlie, the mouse detective hears a loud noise. He discovers that Comet has fallen into their dumpster. How? Why?” (Your Editor wonders, not without good reason, who “their” is in this sentence.)
• “Kayla was kidnapped as a child and led to believe the couple who bought her were her real parents. Her life changes when she learns the truth.” (No, really? Give me something intriguing, please.)
• “Literary novel about the fateful return of a young B&E artist named Adelaide, hip deep in drugs, sex and open houses. Love is a victim, too.” (Telling me it’s a literary novel doesn’t make me believe it is. And I had to look up B&E—does this mean I don’t watch enough television?)
• “Knights, Dragons, Demons and Sorcerers … what more could you want? How about a well constructed story?” (No. Just no. Show me, don’t tell me.)
• “You’ll love book one in this detective series because Henry is a guy you can cheer for. And there is just the right amount of humor, too.” (Again, let a reviewer say this stuff. Tell me about the plot.)
• “A gifted footballer’s life is blighted by bad luck until he meets an Englishman in Africa. Discover where good and bad luck comes from in this novel.” (Whaaaaa …?)
• “After the sudden death of her husband, Adele is vulnerable. Falling prey to Danny, who has Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Her life falls apart.” (OK, don’t need to read this one.)
• “Searching for his mother, nine-year-old Jasper faces danger and corruption in 1950s Detroit.” (This actually could be intriguing but my immediate reaction was Why is a nine-year-old searching for his mother? Did he wake up and she wasn’t there? That should be in the blurb.)
• “It was supposed to be a glorified vacation. Then the aliens showed up.” (My snorting is probably not the reaction the writer sought.)
• “‘A masterpiece’ and ‘spellbinding page turner’ are some of the praises showered on this Gold Award winning thriller. Many unexpected plot twists.” (What is a Gold Award? And what is the plot? I’ll make up my own mind, thanks.)
• “London, 2044. Britain has a new president—a celebrity with little brains, a giant ego and no idea about politics. What could possibly go wrong?” (Britain has a president?**)

Whether it’s the cover, the title, or the blurb, these problems guarantee that I will never take that one little click to go to the selling page with the buy button. They show me—well, they show me a lot of things—that the person doing the marketing (likely the author) is an amateur, and whether you’re a handyman, a lawyer, a baker, or an author, I tend to not do business with amateurs. Here are a few other revealing problems:

• Your book is not a “fiction novel.” This is redundant. And it reveals: I don’t even know the definition of novel.
• Putting “Book 1” on the cover when there’s only one book. Perhaps there will be a book 2, but for now, just let it be. A good marketer will update the cover of the first book when the second releases, and talk about it then. A second wave of marketing! And that saves you looking foolish if it takes another five years to get book 2 out. Or if you never get book 2 out.
• Identifying yourself as “award-winning author, Donna X” on the cover. That’s just tacky. Also it’s vague. If you’ve won an important award (one your readers will recognize, I mean), add a starburst to the cover, announcing, “Winner of the 2018 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.”
• But advertising that you’re a winner of off-brand awards is off-putting. Let it go. Spend your time making the book good, not bragging about something few readers care about.
• Everything in your blurb is hyperbole, such as “the largest conspiracy ever to face mankind!”
• “Revised edition” or “2nd edition” somewhere on the cover absolutely screams that you brought the book out once and it was so bad you had to fix it. Forgive me for saying this, but it’s probably still bad.
• Mentioning another author in the hook: “For lovers of Stephen King comes …” (Harlan Coben is another name I see a lot.) But trust me: if I love those authors (and I do) I am pretty sure I won’t love your book. (Also, that’s such an awkward sentence: “For lovers of Stephen King comes another great thriller …” Ugh. Rewrite it, for the love of Pete.)
• Using a fake name that looks fake, like Jane Stain. Or some odd spelling that draws attention to itself.
• The blurb reveals the plot has already been done: “A modern American woman goes back to when the Celts were pushed behind Hadrian’s Wall and falls in love.” Uhhh, really? Sounds like Outlander fan fiction to me. Also I find the notion of a modern American woman bonding emotionally with a first-century Celt ludicrous. (And that’s a horribly written blurb sentence too.)
• The list of previous book series (which Amazon conveniently provides) reveals release dates that are far, far too close together: Dunskey Castle series (21 Jan 2017; 18 March 2017; 13 May 2017); Kilts at the Renaissance Faire series (17 Apr 2015; 10 July 2015; 21 Dec 2015); Time of … Celts, Picts, Druids series (15 July 2017; 30 Sept 2017; and TBA). Let’s parse this: in 2017, this author (Jane Stain, if you must know) released books in January, March, May, July, and September. What do you think? Are they any good? I doubt it.

I could go on and on—it’s an endless treasure trove of bad marketing—but you get the idea.

I’m not sure how these ads end up on my Kindle—is the author paying for them? is Amazon choosing them at random?—but it’s clear many self-publishing authors are getting no professional advice whatsoever. I’m in the biz so these things stick out like sore thumbs, but they’re not fooling experienced readers either. Think about it.

* Every once in a while, a book I’ve heard of, from a publisher I’ve heard of, shows up. But mostly … not.
** My husband says: “It could happen.”

Tweet: These Bad Kindle Marketing blurbs are showstoppers, y’all. Entertaining—but probably not the way the author intended.
Tweet: Whether it’s the cover, the title, or the blurb, these problems guarantee that I will never click the buy button.
Tweet: Your book is not a “fiction novel.” This is redundant. And it reveals: I don’t even know the definition of novel.