His Broken Heart followed Her Down Unexpected Trails

In a last-ditch effort to regain the affection of the woman of his dreams, Timothy Parsel swung his leg over the saddle, grabbed the reins, and followed her down the trail, oblivious to where the path of marital devotion would take him: ultimately his skinny ass would suffer the most and next, his ribs, which became the target of many horses' hooves. How many times can one man be kicked by half-ton equines, how many miles of fencing can one man install, how many bales of hay can one man haul—and live to talk about it—let alone find it humorous enough to write about? Find out by reading Parsel's memoir, Broken Rib Ranch.

Stand Out in a Crowd and Get Noticed! How to Successfully Market Your Book

 After learning my books had been delivered, I was in a rush to get home from work that evening. My wife, Diana, met me on the steps of our front porch. "Have you seen them yet?" I asked.

 "No." she said. "I thought you should be the first one to see them. After all, you are the author."

 I needed to hold a copy of my memoir in my hands—to make sure Broken Rib Ranch wasn't a dream. That it was real. I walked past Diana and into the garage, were several dozen boxes were stacked in the middle of the floor. I tore open a carton and my eyes fell on the cover. It was more than I had hoped for! I picked up a book and inhaled its brand-new, fresh-off-the-press aroma as I thumbed through the pages that contained my writing. My words. My memories.

 As I returned to the house, I cherished the weight of the book in my hand.

 "Take a few into work with you tomorrow and show your coworkers," Diana said.

 I froze at the thought. You see, I am not an optimistic person, so the mere suggestion of sharing my book with others caused a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, brought on by the fear of rejection. It was that same gut-wrenching sensation I felt back in high school whenever I thought about asking a girl to dance. (I rarely gathered enough courage to actually do so.)

 I looked at Diana. "Maybe next week," I said.

 "Either you take some of those books into work with you tomorrow or I'll shred them and use them to bed the horse stalls."

 I believed she would.

 The following morning, I grabbed a dozen copies on my way out the door. When I arrived at work, Chris, the office manager, greeted me with a smile. "What you got there, Tim?" she asked.

 I cleared my throat and began my practiced response. "I wrote a book," I mumbled.

 "You wrote a book!" she gasped excitedly. "I can't wait to read it! I'll buy one." She then told me to leave several with her because she wanted to help me sell the books. By the end of the day, Chris had sold every copy!

 It was just like my coworkers to support a fellow entrepreneur—but I still didn't think complete strangers would buy Broken Rib Ranch. Especially because beyond my circle of friends, coworkers, neighbors and relatives, I had no idea how anyone would find out about it.

 I should never have doubted Diana's determination. The next day, she visited all of the local bookstores, feed stores, and farmer's markets to see if they would stock my book—every one of them said yes. This brought about some success, but Diana knew there was more she could do to promote my memoir. And that's when she remembered the chapter titled "Auctions," in which I discuss her purchase of an old covered wagon. In that chapter, I surmised that the covered wagon had probably been used for promotional purposes—since it had no other use—except to gather dust like most collectibles Diana felt the need to purchase at auction (it was just larger than most).

 Diana was excited by the prospect and decided we'd enter the annual Charlevoix Venetian Parade in July. The next thing I knew, she had ordered custom-made banners with the cover of Broken Rib Ranch printed on them, which she planned to sew on the canvas of the wagon. We would hitch a team of Belgians to the wagon and walk the parade route—a mile long on a hot Saturday afternoon. I had my doubts whether or not we could pull off such a feat, since every time I'm around horses, a dark cloud seems to hover. But, Diana pointed out all the wonderful benefits, such as how it would be a great way to spark interest for my memoir. Since I wanted to sell books, I reluctantly agreed.

 Fast forward to the night before the parade, when I learned the brakes on the wagon didn't work. So, while all the residents of Charlevoix, plus the hundreds of summer tourists, were gathering at a local beach to watch fireworks, I was making sparks fly trying to get the brakes operational. Finally, after midnight, I finished grinding metal and dropped into bed around one a.m.

 The next morning was early as we had to haul the wagon and the team of horses to the staging area in Charlevoix three hours prior to the big event. This meant a lot of standing around. And waiting.

 Within the first half hour, the horses became restless and had to be walked around a nearby field to calm down. Soon, my nerves began to unravel as I thought about all of our past mishaps and how it never ended well for me. But, Diana insisted that our hard work was going to pay off.

 Finally, we took our position in line with the rest of the parade participants, across from the open field where we had just spent the last three hours trying to calm horses by commanding them to stand. Now, not only was there the noise of several bands to contend with, the horses would have to also walk past thousands of onlookers seated three rows deep on both side of the parade street without flinching.

 As we rounded the corner onto Bridge Street, Charlevoix's main thoroughfare and the chosen parade route, I heard the roar of the crowd. Everyone was awed by the sight of our horse-drawn covered wagon. As I walked alongside the team of Belgians, people waved and shouted, "Congratulations on your book, Tim!" Some even jumped up from their lawn chairs and blankets to run up and shake my hand.

 I smiled. The support and encouragement felt tremendous. Diana's idea was a huge success and did, indeed, get everyone talking about Broken Rib Ranch. A few days later, when I learned that all of the stores had sold out and wanted more copies, I knew never to question any of my wife's promotional ideas again.  

 

 Broken Rib Ranch (ISBN 978-0-9898116-0-6) is available online at Amazon and www.timothyparsel.com and at bookstores and other locales throughout Northern Michigan. You may contact the author or his publicist at parseltim@yahoo.com.