By John Marrs

The use of social media is hotly contested topic amongst authors. Some believe we need it, others claim online platforms don’t translate to sales and it should be the job of publishers to promote our books. And recently, even celebrities-turned-authors have chimed in and dismissed social media as irrelevant to a writer’s career. 

However, for me, and second only to readers, social media has been one of the most consistent driving forces behind my success.

Long before I became an author, I was a journalist. And much later, a journalist with an idea for a novel. Two years later and with a completed book and a desk drawer full of rejection letters from agents and publishers (eighty, in total), I self-published my debut novel The Wronged Sons. 

Marketing was a new concept to me. I had no budget, no clue how to advertise, no knowledge of algorithms and no idea if the book was going to resonate with readers after so many industry rejections. So I turned to Facebook book clubs to spread the word. Six months later, an avid reader, Tracy Fenton, picked up the book, loved it and messaged me via Goodreads to tell me she’d recommended it to her Facebook book group. That one message started a snowball effect.

I joined a new Facebook book club she’d created off the back of our communication and became a part of the book community. And not just about me. I’d also talk about books I had read, I would take note of what others were reading, and, yes, sometimes subtly (and not so subtly!) I’d take opportunities to promote my own work. 

Sales surged, my confidence grew off the back of reacting and responding to readers, and I self-published two more novels over the next two years. That momentum caught the attention of editors and a TV production company, leading to two mainstream book deals, one with Amazon Publishing, another with Penguin here in the UK, for my Dark Future speculative series. And ultimately my novel The One was adapted for Netflix.

A few years later, I came to the attention of a whole new audience, and all for a chapter containing just one word. As an author, I’d written over a million published words by then, but it was Chapter 39 in my eighth novel Keep It In The Family that I became most known for. It simply reads F***. The notoriety that followed came not from any kind of traditional publicity, but from Facebook book clubs. Word of mouth about that chapter spread online and once again, I leaned into it. Readers have used Chapter 39 for car registration plates, tattoos, themed book club parties and to sell their own themed products in Etsy shops.  I did—and still do—apportion a part of my day to responding and chatting to online book clubs about this and subsequent novels.

The one thing I have learned above all else is how important it is for readers to see the real you, and to maintain a sense of humour. Take the ongoing joke that Freida McFadden and I are the same person. Both she and I have embraced this mad rumour and had fun with it. And to be fair to book conspiracy theorists, she and I have never been seen in the same room together…  

Should you decide to brave the murky waters of online book clubs, you will soon learn there are distinct types of members, each bringing their own energy to the conversation. 

• The Fan Member—They get you. They love your books and your interactions, and they’re the reason you keep going back.
• The Nonfan Member—They don’t get you, they don’t like your books, and they like to make sure everyone knows it. They’ll pop up on threads just to declare you are overrated. It’s their choice. Let them have it.
• The Fast-Paced Member—My novels are slow burns. Cue the posts: “I’m on page 30 and I’m bored—should I continue?” My answer is always the same: books are subjective. I take time to build a world before I burn it down. If it’s not for you, move on and find something more suitable.
• The UK/US English Member—They like to spark trans-Atlantic debates over spelling. Is it colour or color? What exactly is a fortnight? Isn’t a trunk a suitcase? I often wake up to notifications of linguistic skirmishes that have unfolded overnight. 
• The Gotcha Member—They live for spotting mistakes. And they want everyone to know about them. Just last week, someone pointed out—six years after my book’s publication—that there isn’t an active volcano in Norway. Embarrassing, yes. Frustrating that they’re correct, even more so.
• The Deal Member—They suffer from FOMO. If I announce a discount in one country that’s not theirs, they’ll let me know they’re upset. Loudly.
• The Tagger Member—There are fans who want to see my reaction to someone else’s post. Maybe a Gotcha member has spotted an error, and they’re hoping I’ll swoop in with a witty reply.  They mean well, but I’m always careful as to how I interact once tagged. I don’t want to cause a pile on for a member. 

At first glance, embracing social media might sound intimidating or chaotic. It’s both. But for me, it’s part of the job and part of the fun. These book clubs are unpredictable, but they are key to readers discovering new books and authors previously unknown to them. They also provide me with a way to show that despite the dark tone of my novels, I’m not actually a brooding sociopath. 

Of course, not every day is fun. Negative posts can dominate your feed, and it’s human nature to want to bite back. I often joke that I’m one glib comment away from being cancelled. But that risk is part of the job. Social media isn’t just about promotion; it’s about community, conversation, and for me, the unpredictable spark that can push you out of the margins and into the mainstream.