In Which Helmet Hair Is Surprisingly Good For Book Sales

When our agent was shopping The Ski House Cookbook to publishers, she often heard this criticism: "the market for that book is too small.  Too niche."  (Luckily Random House disagreed.)  But here's the silver lining: books which have a target market which is crystal clear (in this case ski enthusiasts who cook) are the easiest to publicize.

In other words, if you can define your audience, you can reach it.  My co-author Tina and I had a lot of fun with this concept.  We saw early on that it wouldn't work to just follow the well trodden path of a generic book launch.  Scheduling a signing at a NYC Barnes & Noble seemed like a bad idea.  If only 1 in 10 New Yorkers skis during any given winter (I don't know the real number, but I'd guess it's a small percentage) we imagined we might be in for some very lonely book signings.
So if not there, then where?

At a ski mountain, of course.

So we asked Vermont resorts to host signing events.  Their response: "Huh.  We've never had a book signing before." But then they said: "Sure, what the heck."  After all, ski mountains like to advertise events.  They too need to draw customers, to stay relevant.

Sure, holding a signing outside a store was a little awkward.  Book signings are held in stores because booksellers know what they're doing, and they're set up to sell books.  Tina and I were just flying by the seats of our ski pants.  We set up in the ski lodge for a 2:30 to 4:30 or so signing, hoping to catch skiers as they were coming off the mountain, ready for a drink or a snack.  We brought gingerbread cake (a recipe from the book) and kettle corn.  That part was easy enough.  Many people took one of our food offerings, gave us an odd look and then ambled away.  But we also made sales.  A couple of women even approached our table to say: "I love your book!  A friend gave it to me as a hostess gift, and I cook from it all the time!"

That was gratifying.

The logistics weren't easy.  Our least fruitful signing was the one we drove for eight hours through a blizzard to reach. But going off piste with our publicity strategy never felt like a waste of time.  We knew we were in the right place, in the right moment.

Now that I have a novel to publicize, I'm trying not to forget the odd lessons I learned selling cookbooks to families with helmet hair.  Almost by definition any novel has a less well defined audience than The Ski House Cookbook. But that doesn't mean it's completely undefinable.  My new book should appeal to... let's see: foodies, Brooklyn moms, Vermonters, Mompreneurs, organic gurus and goat farmers, and anyone who carries an eco-friendly diaper bag.

Good thing I've got seven months to figure out just where to find them.  And I hope they like gingerbread.

Sexy Scenes and Book Signings, by Liz Michalski

Liz Michalski’s novel Evenfall is beautiful and moving.  I’ve read it.  Even that scene.  (Especially that scene.)  In chatting with Liz, I discovered an aspect of the author/reader relationship that I’d not previously considered.  If your book has a sexy element, how does that affect your relationship with fans?

—Sarah P.

By Liz Michalski

You've read my novel.

I can tell by the way you sidle up to me, checking before you speak to make sure no one can hear.  The way you lower your voice, the way you lean in, the way you grin in embarrassment before you speak -- all these little things give you away.  And then, "I read your book.  (Pause.) And, um, THAT SCENE."

Sometimes, I pretend I don't know what you are talking about.  "Oh?  The scene with the goats?  Thanks, that's one of my favorites too."  Sometimes, depending on how well I know you, I may kid back.  "Yeah, your husband was really helpful about sharing details with me." But sometimes, I have to admit, I'm a little embarrassed too.

In case you haven't read it yet, my novel Evenfall has one very steamy scene.  It's short -- maybe three pages -- but apparently it's memorable.  Ironically, prepublication it wasn't the sex I was worried about offending people with -- it was the cows.

In the Moo-D

When I was writing Evenfall, I came to a point when the sexual tension between two characters had to do ... something. It had been building and building for over a hundred pages, and needed to be released, metaphorically speaking.  But how?

As a former Catholic schoolgirl, I leaned toward the Barbara Kingsolver method. (She's said that she's written one of the shortest love scenes on records.  When one character notices the crackle of cellophane in her boyfriend's pocket, she tells him if he has a condom in there, it's his lucky day. Then Kingsolver writes:  "He did.  It was."  End of scene.)

But Evenfall is strongly tied to the natural world.  My characters live on a farm, for goodness sake!  To gloss over sex, to ignore their earthy side, felt like cheating.  So I put all thoughts of what my former teachers, the Sisters of Notre Dame, might say, sat down, and wrote the most tantalizing scene I could.

I finished that section of the book years before I got an agent.  When he requested the full manuscript, I hesitated for a brief moment.  I could delete that scene, maybe rewrite it ... but he'd asked for what I had, and I had to trust that it was good enough. So I sent it and forgot about it.  Aside saying it was steamy, neither my agent nor my editor ever mentioned the scene. Neither did the copy editors. I figured no one else would, either. 

What did worry me was the cows.  In the story, one character gives a politically charged speech about land development and how it and taxes are killing all the family farms.  Disappearing dairy farms were making headlines when I wrote the book, and as someone surrounded by farmers and worried about their survival, I decided to use my pen to call attention to their plight.  Living where I did, surrounded by several organizations that were developing land at a massive rate, it felt incendiary.

Let us recap how well I judged that one:  

Comments about cows to date: 0

Comments about sex scene: 2,362

Since I'm not going to win this one,  I've decided to take pride in the fact that my love scene has stuck in so many people's minds.  When friends confide that they've read it to their husbands, I smile. When they ask me if it is based on personal history, I try and look mysterious.  When my kindergarten, fourth grade, and high school teachers all show up at a book signing, I talk about cows.  Loudly. 

Sarah: Dare I ask… is there a sexy scene in the book you’re writing now?

Liz: Of course! I haven’t written it yet, but it involves inter-species love and a 200 year age gap.  I’ll never be able to show my face in the carpool line again.

Author Man Martin on Becoming an "Okra Pick" and Other Life Changing Accomplishments

Paradise Dogs

Man Martin’s new novel Paradise Dogs was published this month by Thomas Dunne books.  I happened to notice that he’d been designated an “Okra Pick” by the Southern Independent Booksellers Association.  Okra Pick!  I’m a sucker for a good title, and I liked it immediately.  But it got me thinking about the titles, awards, nominations and other modifiers writers sometimes drag around at the bottom of their business cards.  So I asked Man to tell me his deepest thoughts about them.

—Sarah P.

How Being an Okra Pick Changed My Life Forever and Elevated Me to My Present Pinnacle of Wealth and Fame

By Man Martin

It didn’t.

In case you don’t know – and if you don’t know, what rock have you been living under? –  “Okra Picks” are noteworthy titles selected each season by the Southern Independent Booksellers Association (SIBA).  My new novel , Paradise Dogs, joins work by Robert Olen Butler and Tayari Jones as one of this summer’s Okra Picks.

It’s the sort of thing you have to be very careful pronouncing when you tell people, or they get unduly excited.  “No, oh-kra, oh-kra.  It’s a ‘k’ not a ‘p.’”

So now that I’m an Okra Pick, am I inundated with appearance requests? Are rainforests sacrificed to supply paper for all the additional print runs? Am I harassed daily by Spielberg and Coppola trying to outbid each other for the movie rights?  (“Dang it, Francis, you and Steven work it out between yourselves, then give me a call!”)

Well, is a bear Catholic?  Does the Pope shit in the woods?

No.

And yet I’m delighted to be an Okra Pick, and tell everyone – pronouncing the word as carefully as possible – that I am.  My mission is to let as many people as possible know about my work, and any recognition I get is appreciated.  If you’re pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, my advice is don’t leave any bootstrap un-pulled.  At the end of the day, I’m extremely grateful to SIBA – I’m all about Independent Bookstores – and their validation means a lot to me.

But I’m still covetous of more recognition.  At the moment I’m nominating Paradise Dogs for an award sponsored by a Dalton, Georgia poultry farmer. Each year he selects one book and pays an unannounced visit to the winner, awarding him a young Rhode Island Red.  He calls it the Pullet Surprise.

Wish me luck.


Man Martin’s new novel Paradise Dogs is in bookstores now from Thomas Dunne Books.  It has neither zombies nor kittens.  manmartin.blogspot.com

Daphne Uviller: To Ask for a Blurb is to Feel Like a Turd

Daphne Uviller’s novels (SUPER IN THE CITY and HOTEL NO TELL) manage to be at once both smart and hilarious.  If you haven't read them, you should do so.  Right now.  Not only is Daphne herself both smart and hilarious, she has tackled for Blurb Is a Verb the eponymous subject which terrifies so many authors (including me): Blurb Acquisition.  

—Sarah P.

By: Daphne Uviller

You’re scanning books on the New Arrivals table of a bookstore (in this scenario, the end of civilization as we know it hasn’t yet arrived). You rapidly pick up and put down volumes, your neurons going slightly haywire over how to make sense of the crowd of titles begging for your attention, each of them desperate to take you out to dinner and a movie, maybe get to second base if you’d only give them a second glance.

Are you the type to be seduced by a cover? A first line? Do you go the Biblical route, letting the book fall open to a random page, and wait for soulful connection to leap forth?

Or do you read the blurbs?

Really? Huh. Tell me now. Is it the name of the blurber that attracts you? Or the title of her own book? Is it the phrase “New York Times bestseller” next to his name? Surely it isn’t the actual blurb itself. You don’t actually get around to reading that, do you?

Tina Fey is famous enough that she could afford to mock the entire blurb phenomenon on the jacket of Bossypants (“Totally worth it.” —Trees) and, like the rest of that book, she carried it off with self-deprecating humor. But the rest of us must use every last tool in the shed to promote our books, and the process of self-abasement begins long before your book jacket is even designed.

Scene II:

You’re sitting with your editor at a midtown Manhattan restaurant and you’re just so excited that someone is paying for your lunch and that you can say things like “lunch with my editor” that you don’t think to dread the awkward conversation about to unfold.

You’re each armed with a list of potential blurbers. On yours, some are friends who have published books who will almost definitely do you this favor; some are biggish names that friends of yours might ask on your behalf; and some are pie-in-the-sky reaches. 

Yes, it’s your college application process, relived in all its horror.

Your editor goes first. She suggests a well-known writer who is in her stable and therefore (theoretically) easy to get. Alas, you’ve never heard of this well-known writer, but you don’t want to admit that you’re so unaware of your fellow writers, and, in particular, your editor’s other writers, so you feign excitement and hopefulness. “That would be AWESOME.”

Then you say, nervously snapping your breadsticks, what about, hee-hee, this is crazy, oh my god, I’d be so psyched, Nora Ephron?  And your editor dutifully scribbles something in her notes, and now it’s her turn to feign excitement and hopefulness. “Wow. That would be just...wow. I’ll see what we can do.”

With those out of the way, you turn to reality. “My friend came out with her first novel last year, and I blurbed her book, so she’d probably blurb mine.”

Great, great! What else?

“Um, well, this other friend, her book was serious literary fiction, not at all the same genre as mine, but she was a New York Times bestseller—”

“ASK her!”

So Hotel No Tell is blurbed entirely by kind friends: Jenny Nelson (author of Georgia’s Kitchen, which I blurbed) was well-matched to my book in terms of genre. Then I have Janice Y.K. Lee, who managed to complete her New York Times best-selling novel The Piano Teacher in small part because I made her meet me for writing dates, so I think she felt obligated. I’m extremely proud of my books, but I bet Janice was a little embarrassed. My publisher put her blurb on the front cover.

Then we alit on new territory: Hollywood. I remembered that I have friends who have written movies, funny movies. Movies that were actually made and released. Hey, this was interesting... And so, to my great delight, I have a perfect blurb by the writers of Dinner for Schmucks. These kind, talented men were, not to put too fine a point on it, fresh meat. That is, not too tapped out by dozens of previous requests to groan at mine. I think, I think, they actually enjoyed the task.

Years ago, after she’d established a rock-solid writing career but before summiting the Everest that was Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert promised me, “If you write a novel, I will blurb it. Remember that when you need incentive to keep working.” I finished my first novel just as the world was in the midst of its EPL frenzy. I gave Liz the option of backing out of her promise, telling her I understood that her name was now a commodity to be protected.

Forty-eight hours after she received the manuscript, she e-mailed me her blurb. My agent was able to put it on the manuscript of Super in the City before we sent it out to editors. It was rejected by seven houses before it was accepted, but I’m convinced that her blurb got my manuscript to the tops of editors’ piles.

There are writers known as “blurb whores” – people who will blurb just about anything with pages, and I think this is an outrageous stigma. What these generous people are doing is sharing their fame and good fortune, trying to extend it to help you, the newbie writer.

I hope one day to be well-enough-established that my skimmed name and praise on the back of a book jacket would be of some help to another writer.

Sarah: Thank you Daphne!  Can I ask you a question?  If you could ban any three adjectives from all future book blurbs, which ones would you choose?

Daphne: "Thoroughly enjoyable," "entertaining."  And "readable."  Because they damn with unoriginal praise.

Sarah: Ah, yes.  Sort of like calling a wine "drinkable."  Although... having a glass of drinkable wine while asking for blurbs is probably a good call.

Daphne: Indeed.  

Scott Tracey on The Author's Use of Twitter

Scott Tracey’s debut YA novel WITCH EYES will be released by Flux in a few short weeks.  His prior career highlights include: accidentally tripping a panic alarm and nearly being shot by the police, being attacked in a drive-thru window by a woman wielding a baked potato, and sending the health department after his (very brief) place of employment. 

I’ve always thought Scott’s blog had wise things to say about authors’ use of social media, and so I asked him to share a bit of his Twitter wisdom on Blurb is a Verb.  Take it away, Scott!      

–Sarah P.

Writers are pushed, in this day and age, towards social media as a way to market ourselves.  But there are so many ways to take it to the wrong place. Twitter's a perfect example.  The way I see it, there are two main "roads" you can follow.

Road #1) Twitter is a conversation.  If I follow someone, it's because I'm interested in what they have to say.  If I unfollow someone, that's because our talking points don't coincide anymore.  People follow me because they're interested in what I'm saying, or because I keep them entertained.  I build relationships with the people who follow me and talk to me, and having a good conversation is always the main goal.

*OR*

Road #2) The point of Twitter is to amass followers.  The more tools I can use to amass as many followers as possible, the more I "win."  I follow as many people as Twitter will allow me to, and unfollow them if they won't return the favor.  Most people follow me because I followed them first.  My goal with Twitter is numbers, not relationships.  The more people I have following me, the more people who will hear my message.

These are two vastly different approaches, coming at it from opposite directions.  So which is more effective?

As a writer with novel coming out, how many of my followers will reasonably be interested enough to buy it? The ones who follow me because they're interested in what I have to say, or the ones who follow me because I'm following them?  When I hold contests, or talk about my book, who is more likely to retweet what I have to say, and who has the audience I'm trying to reach.  The thousand people who follow because they're interested, or the ten thousand who couldn't pick me out of a lineup?  Who are more likely to promote my book on their own time - whether tweeting about it, blogging about it, posting a review or holding a contest?

The point of Twitter, at least in my experience, is having the right kind of followers.  Followers who get invested in YOU, not in being one of your numbers.

Other things to keep in mind:

By developing a relationship with your followers, you learn a couple of simple truths:

Don't Be Annoying.  Seriously.  Yes, you have a book coming out, but that should never take over your Twitter stream (except for possibly the few days surrounding your release).  Make an effort to keep the self-promotion down to a palatable number.  A random polling of people on Twitter suggested that over promotion is the MAIN reason why people stop following authors.  If all you're talking about is your novel, people are going to tune out. Don't spam people, whether it's about your latest blog post, every review you've ever gotten, or notifications from Tumblr or Formspring. Be interesting, not predictable.

Communicate Better; Don't Just Shout Louder.  If I have 10K followers, but all I tweet is about my book for 3 months before it comes out, how many of those 10K will stop following me, or wind up not buying my book out of spite?  Chances are high on both counts.  Promote other authors.  Talk about your life.  Make promoting yourself one of the smallest parts of what you do on Twitter.  Being an active, interesting viewpoint is enough of a marketing plan.  People will support you just because you're genuine.

Never air your dirty laundry on Twitter.  Never get into serious fights with people (opposing viewpoints is fine, but never devolve into name-calling).  People don't forget.  Seriously.  At BEA a few weeks ago, a book blogger referenced a Twitter fight I remembered seeing.  2 years ago.  Yeah, they still remembered, and so did I.  And that's not the reputation you want to wind up with. 

Twitter is a terrible therapist - and the last thing you want is for people to think you're unbalanced.  Keep the bad things to yourself.  Some people may be supportive, but it's the ones who don't say anything at all that you have to watch out for.  You may offend someone without even knowing it.

Develop your own voice.  There is only one Maureen Johnson.   There is only one Kiersten White, or Sarah Rees Brennan or Rachel Hawkins.  Yes, you could try to mimic their Twitter 'voice' in the hopes of replicating their success, but eventually people will tire of the shtick.   Develop your own voice, it'll get your further than imitation ever will.

Don't be an "upseller" author.  There are some authors out there who are always on the lookout for the next "level" of success.  They only talk to authors bigger than they are, only make the effort with people who can help them grow.  They may acknowledge the occasional fan, but their eyes are on moving up in the world. Don't be one of those people.  If someone talks to you, talk back.  Try to get in the habit of responding to most, if not all, @replies.

If you're trying to get more active in the Twitter community, then talk more.  Make a goal of @replying 5-10 people every day.  Start conversations.  Ask other people questions.  People will follow you if you're interesting to talk to, but that first step involves actually TALKING.

Twitter is a place to start conversations.  But unless those conversations have formed friendships that exist outside of Twitter, don't abuse your "Twitter friendship" by asking or expecting favors.

No one owes you anything on Twitter.  Like I said above, Twitter is a conversation.  If our conversation isn't working, I don't owe you a follow.  And vice versa.  Don't take it to heart if someone doesn't follow you , or was following but then stopped.  Focus more on the people who stick around.

Twitter is a great place to network, build industry contacts, and promote yourself.  But it's far, far too easy to abuse and to push people away instead of drawing them in.  Keep that in mind the next time you're about to tweet.
--Scott Tracey

Randy Susan Meyers: Love me! Read me! Buy me!

By Randy Susan Meyers


Writing a book takes a certain set of skills: intense concentration, imagination, the ability to read the same 400 pages time after time, and the fortitude to take criticism (excuse me, ahem, critique) without weeping.  You must learn to shut out all noise at a given moment and you must love solitude.

Getting your book in reader’s hands requires the opposite: Writing in 140 character sound bites, talking about oneself while sounding modest, balancing online me! me! me! without having REGO (readers eyes glaze over) or worse, RSOY (readers sick of you.)

Anyone who had read the hysterical, but frighteningly close to the truth, New Yorker piece on promotion knows how much falls on the writer these days. (Surprisingly few readers know this; at a recent book club, members were shocked to learn writers did their own promotion.) Even if one has great and supportive publicists, much of the responsibility for getting that book read is on the writer.


Earning your SMB

 “You have to sell it one book at a time,” my agent warned me.

How was I supposed to do that? I pictured myself walking door to door with a box of books slung around my neck in the manner of nightclub cigarette girls of yore. In terror, I read every book I could find (thus buying their books), listened to experienced writers, attended forums on promotion, jumped from one online site to another, lurked in online forums (and finally came out of the closet and wrote sad plaintive pleas on same forums) and, in short, thus tried to get a cheap fast masters in SMB (selling my book.)

The problem is this: except for the most ego-driven or ego-protected among us, it’s an unnatural position for most writers. We like working in pajamas. We like watching sentences unfold as ideas unfurl. We don’t like shaking our booties.

But to sell, we must.

This is the uncomfortable truth. If you want to follow your fantasy of writing and publishing, then you gotta shake that booty. You must learn how to sell without appearing crazed—because nobody likes the snake oil man. You must swallow your pride and put it out there—Look, I wrote a book! Want to buy it? —without coming across as greedy, crazed, or so entrance by yourself that people back away in horror.

None of us succeed all the time. Once I got an email from the moderator of an online alumni group to which I belong. I’d sent out a group email inviting members to a reading I’d be giving in NYC, and received this squirm-inducing scold:

Usually I try not to use the XYZ Group for personal promotion. Please refrain in the future.

Shame overcame me as my self-image went from energetic-information-sharer to self-promoting-hussy. I imagined whispers in the online hallways: Who does she think she is? God, enough, already. Will she ever shut up about that damn book?

But they said I have to, I whine.

Yeah. It’s hard out there for a pimp. But, I remind myself: this is my dream. Suck it up, self.  So here’s my advice for writer-friends and my pleas to reader-friends:

Readers: Forgive us each day our daily shilling. It’s the only game in town these days. And if you have it in your hearts, and you like our books, please pass the word along. If you really love it, write a review on Amazon or B&N or Goodreads. You can’t believe how much it means.

Writers: Don’t overdo it online. Talk about other books besides your own. Find a launch buddy or two. Or three. Someone with whom you can be as whiny and self-pitying as you need, someone who won’t judge you for it. BFF launch sisters and brothers. Make sure it’s someone you can truly root for and who will totally root for you. Know that sometimes she’ll be ahead of you. That’s okay—keep rooting. That’s what sisters and brothers do for each other.

Most important, learn, learn, and learn more. And then remember, no one can do it all. When promoting, pick that which excites you, or at the very least, engages you the most. Passion attracts. Sullen shuffling, not so much.

Resources


Books:

Handholds writers through every aspect of publishing, including publicity . . . I call this book an instant shrink for writers: THE FOREST FOR THE TREES by Betsy Lerner

Great help to prepare for reading in public: NAKED AT THE PODIUM: THE WRITER’S GUIDE TO SUCCESFUL READINGS  by Peter V.T. Kahle and Melanie Workhoven

Step-by-step guides for publicity, marketing and more: PUBLICIZE YOUR BOOK by Jacqueline Deval; THE SAVVY AUTHOR'S GUIDE TO BOOK PUBLICITY by Lissa Warren; BOOKLIFE by Jeff Vandermeer

And because it’s important to remember the creative side of why you do this, a book I love: Mentors, Monsters & Muses by Elizabeth Benedict

Online Help:

For a plethora of resources (web designers, publicists, networks and more) from a trusted source (plus, Bella Stander offers excellent seminars and consulting for authors:)

Book Promotion 101

For marketing expertise:

AuthorBuzz

For finding support among other authors (from beginners to multi-published)

Backspace for Writers

For finding lists of festivals, ratings of review sites and much more visit Preditors & Editors and finish by reading this New York Times essay on book promotion where you’ll get the historical perspective and learn that even Walt Whitman had to shake a bit of booty.

Randy Susan Meyers is the author of The Murderer’s Daughters, released by St. Martin’s Press in January 2010. Her family drama is informed by her work with batterers and victims of domestic violence, as well her experience with youth impacted by street violence. The Los Angeles Times deemed the books, “A knock-out debut.” The Murderer’s Daughters was recently chosen the Target “Club Pick” for February/March and chosen as a Massachusetts Council for the Book as a “Must Read.” The Murderer’s Daughters was just named a finalist for the Massachusetts Book Award.

All Publicity is Good Publicity. Really?

Julia's cover, revealed!

It's a phrase used often: "There's no such thing as bad publicity."  The original quote is attributed to Irish poet Brendan F. Behan who put it a little differently.  He said (according to wikipedia, anyway) "there's no bad publicity except an obituary."  

But is it really true?

Almost a year ago now I had a little brush with this phenomenon.  My novel had just been acquired, and hit the P.W. ticker tape with its 25 word description.  I'd wanted to sell a novel since about the 3rd grade, and I thought a little celebratory happy dance in my kitchen was warranted.

But the very next day, a foodie website (of all places) wrote a short but snarky post about my book's announcement, in which the blogger proclaimed that my book's tentative proto-existence had actually wrecked his/her day!  (The post was anonymous, of course.  I have no idea who wrote it.)

Now, I understand that if I'm lucky my work will be reviewed, rehashed, discussed and perhaps even attacked.  But I hadn't expected to see it happen until after the book was printed.  I wasn't ready.  And so this peculiar episode sent me into a tailspin. For a few ugly hours, it didn't seem to matter that the poster's assumptions about the book's content were wrong, or that it was quite obviously a slow foodie news day.  I felt doomed.

And then...

The next week I got an unfamiliar email from Google Analytics: "Intelligence Alert!" It turns out that my quiet little author website (used as a repository for my journalism clips) got dozens of hits off of the snarky food blog post.

This was a complete shock.  Really?  There were 50 people interested enough to click the link that the snarker had so thoughtfully provided?  

Slow news day, indeed.

So now I want to thank the guy, but not for the web hits.  Those are immaterial.  I'd like to thank him for reminding me that word of mouth works in mysterious ways.  And that authorship is a marathon, not a sprint.

Here, then, is my cover art, officially official.  The book won't be published for another seven months, but at least she has a face.  Many will love her, and maybe a few won't.  Either way, I can take it.

Filed Under: How Far Should An Author Go?

Sarah: Wow, Carolyn Parkhurst!  Everyone is talking about your hysterical new book trailer / video.  How did you come up with such a wonderful mockery of authors overdoing it?

Carolyn: This idea—like so many things related to book promotion--grew out of a sense of futility.  It seems like authors have such a brief window of time to make people aware of their books and hope that they buy them, and I was trying to figure out if there was anything I could do to improve the odds that this novel would actually sell some copies.  I thought, "I have all these great review quotes, but no one really pays attention to any of that stuff.  What do I have to do--embroider it on a throw pillow?"

Sarah: I love the pillow!

Carolyn: Of course, there's a fine line between pretending to be the person I am in the video and actually becoming that person.  Now that I actually own all this stuff, I'm not sure what to do with it.  I mean, I paid good money for a keepsake crystal block engraved with a lengthy (and complimentary) quote from the New York Times—should I put it on my desk, or is that the first step toward the dark side?

Sarah: I think that sucker should go right on your desk as a daily reminder of what every writer goes through to get her work “out there.”  And now I’m going to close with your bio blurb.  How’s this?

Carolyn Parkhurst is the New York Times bestselling author of The Nobodies Album, among other groundbreaking works.  Visit her at http://carolynparkhurst.com. 

Carolyn: Can you put that in a bigger font?

In Which I Am Unexpectedly Saved by Cookies (and a Publicist)

I should have been happy.  Instead I was scared.

The bookstore had requested Tina (my co-author) and I for a book signing.   Stacks of our freshly minted cookbook covered a small table just inside the door.  Our names, in large type, gleamed from each shiny dust jacket.  There was even a sign—three feet high—with our cover art and picture on it.

The bookstore owner handed me a Sharpie.  When the door opened to admit a customer, her artsy-but-not-too-bohemian-for-Connecticut earrings swung in the breeze.  “Just have fun with people,” she said.  “And if you get a minute, sign the rest of the stock.”  Then she walked away.

That’s when the panic set in.  We were positioned in the perfect Target Rich Environment—a fancy town where people actually stepped into the independent bookstore on a frigid Saturday, their wallets brimming with cash.  But as I stood literally in the window of the store, I realized that I hadn’t understood just how confrontational it would all feel.  This wasn’t the love fest I’d pictured.  There was no forming line of admirers. 

The truth hit me like a wobbly stack of unsold books.  For the next three hours,  as customers ran in to grab a copy of the Times, we were expected to start conversations that would end with “You can pay at the register.  Thirty dollars, cash on the barrelhead.”

I struggled with this idea as a few customers entered the store.  Smelling the fear in my shaky but welcoming smile, they plastered on a “don’t talk to me” face and accelerated to a sprint. 

These days, it’s de rigueur among authors to complain about the publicist you’ve been assigned—that elusive creature who books author events.  The bigger your publisher is, the louder you’re expected to whine.  Supposedly, publicity support for new books has declined annually since Lincoln was president, to the point where there is now exactly one publicist left in New York.  And she’s 22 years old and reads “US Weekly” all day at her desk instead of taking your call.

Our own publicist had, true to form, failed to mention one crucial detail about my weekend junket.  “I hope it’s okay,” she’d said breezily the day before.  “I told the bookstore you’d bring samples.”

“Samples…of the book?” I asked.

“No, of the recipes.  Bring something for the customers to taste…”  In the background, I heard a cell phone begin squealing to strains of Girls Just Want to Have Fun.  “Oops.  Gotta run!”

Samples?  I tried to imagine serving, among the pristine displays of a suburban bookstore, tiny cups of rapidly cooling Braised Beef with Wine, or rubbery portions of Spinach Fettuccini. 

But Tina, ever the level-headed one, reasoned that a cookie from our chapter of desserts would be reasonably tidy and mobile.  The cookies required only that she and I stay up until the wee hours of the morning baking, cleaning up, designing a cute little label replete with the book’s cover art, and then packaging more than a hundred adorable little portions.  Now they lay waiting in their Martha-worthy basket, winking up at me from their individual cellophane wrappers. 

Reader, I clutched that basket with the desperation of a Titanic passenger on flotsam.  When next the bookstore doorbell jingled, I thrust it out.  “Would you like a cookie?” I offered.  “They’re free.”

From that moment on, starting conversations was a breeze.  My publicist was clearly a genius.  She taught me something important that day.  Book signings are like love—you have to give a little something to get something back.  And while freshly baked cookies are ideal, any small offering will do.  You can give away a tiny treat, or perhaps a sticker promoting your book.  If not that, then offer a joke or a fun bit of trivia from your vast accumulation of writerly research.  At that moment of fear, when the idea of telling a perfect stranger that he should buy your book becomes impossible, offer something.  Even a compliment will do. (“Lovely bow tie.  Wherever did you find one with little tarantulas on it?”)

It is the rare author who is equally suited to spending months in isolation writing a book and to tackling passersby to make the sale.  But there’s no need to be afraid.  Offer something—anything—to the poor soul who appears in front of you.  Even a tiny act of generosity will bridge the gap.

Stones Into Book Sales

Earlier this week we heard from Jenn Northington, the events manager at a WORD in Brooklyn, who said she was always looking for "events that are out of the ordinary, that invite audience participation, that take the average reading + Q&A and make it better, stronger, faster."

Last month I attended an event at the Yankee Bookshop in Woodstock, VT, wherein I broke a piece of granite in two.  How's that for action?

This event was unique from minute one.  The author, Hector Santos,  has just published a book about his work building stone walls.  I received a Constant Comment email about the event about 10 days beforehand.  The note promised a wall building demonstration.

And so it was.  Mr. Santos brought enough stones to build a small retaining wall, perhaps three feet long, on a table in the store.  Now, my interest in landscaping extends as far as: "a pot of pink flowers would look nice over there."  So I admit that not every bit of the presentation about drainage and cap stones and seams was applicable to me.

However.

Mr. Santos wanted to show how a piece of granite is split.  It's an igneous rock (thank you, 8th grade science teacher) and so it doesn't cleave with a whack of the hammer like a piece of slate.  Mr. Santos had scored and pre-drilled a 12" x 8" x 8" granite block.  He placed some metal wedges in the three drill holes to demonstrate how clean, straight breaks were made.

Then he asked for a volunteer.

I waited a polite second to make sure nobody else was dying to break that rock.  And then (hell yes!) I raised my hand.  I got down on the floor and took up the hammer, giving each set of wedges a couple of polite whacks.

Then the nice man told me I was going to have to hit them harder.

My face turning red, I upped my game.  And then I felt the rock start to give way.  And with rice krispie-like snap crackle pop sounds, that chunk o' granite broke in half.  And I did it.  Me.  With what my mother calls skinny chicken arms.

Surely not every book signing can or should feature the destruction of granite blocks.  But I did enjoy my moment of rock breaking.  And of course I bought the book.

The End.