Author Joanne Hillhouse on Writing Off the Map

Photo by Emile Hill

Antiguan writer Joanne C. Hillhouse shares here the effort of getting her work “out there” through the lens one whose hometown is remote from the traditional publishing world. But her discoveries, and what it demanded of her, are familiar to every author who didn’t quit. I’m so proud to share Joanne’s essay with you here. Thank you, Joanne!

–Sarah P.

By Joanne C. Hillhouse

Somewhere between Little Women, Jane Eyre, Are You There God, it’s me Margaret?, The Last of Eden and any number of foreign books I read and loved as a youngster, a seed was planted. Likely it was planted earlier than that. I’m sketchy on the details. What I do know is that there were a lot more books and films and such from outside than inside of my world; and that I wanted to be a writer but maybe didn’t believe it was possible. Today, somewhere between local calypso writers Shelly Tobitt and Marcus Christopher, and calypso giants like Short Shirt and King Obstinate in my Antiguan childhood; classroom introductions to Michael Anthony, Sam Selvon, Zora Neale Hurston, Langston Hughes, Toni Morrison and others; discovering Jamaica Kincaid and Annie John and a still evolving list of Caribbean writers; and owning up to what I really wanted to be, that seed sprouted.

That’s the first challenge for a Caribbean writer, I think – when your 108 square miles is so far from the world where books are made and dreaming impossible dreams is encouraged – even now that the West Indian literary canon is well and truly established and technology has opened up opportunities for publishing: the Claiming, capital C. I am a Writer, capital W.

The second challenge: be careful what you wish for. That’s what no one tells you.

Few things can compare with the validation that comes when you receive word that your book – after many cycles of rejection and self-doubt – has found a publisher. You feel happy and you also feel relieved and open – you’re not sure what to expect and you’re unsettled by that, but you’re also over the moon.

 Well, here’s what no one tells you. Your job is not done. See, writers, all we really want to do is write; many of us are the shy, awkward people at the party, the people whose heart thunders like a runaway herd at each invitation to step to the mic, who would just as soon write, not speak. And yet, once we’ve written, speaking is inevitable and, as it turns out, necessary; because you’ve got to sell, sell, sell. If you don’t want to be dropped, dropped, dropped.

I know what it is to be dropped. Well, technically, to have my books go out of print. That’s what happened with my first publisher, just as Antiguan school officials started expressing interest in putting one of them – The Boy from Willow Bend – on the secondary schools' reading list. And swallowing the taste of bitterness, and the bitter irony of it, persistence paid off with a re-issue with a new publisher, and a determination to work that much harder, to sell, sell, sell.

Still, all I really want to do is write, write, write.

The other challenge: Space (internal and external) to create.  There are bills to be paid and writing royalties don’t quite cut it, not for a writer still finding her legs in the vast land of publishing. So you work, and even if you’re fortunate enough to turn your skill into currency, the creativity that yielded your best work soon settles in the corner like dust left overnight then forgotten. This is compounded by the fact that there are very few writing programmes in or for Caribbean writers. I’ve been fortunate to participate in one of the best, the Caribbean Writers Summer Institute at the University of Miami on recommendation from my writing mentor at UWI, esteemed Jamaican poet, Mervyn Morris. It was during this programme that I felt my limbs stretch and grow in new directions; it was during this time that I penned, substantially, The Boy from Willow Bend. And the opportunity to interact with other writers and make lasting connections and be in a world where creativity was encouraged was – like the ad says – “priceless”.

I remember, shortly after Willow Bend was first published, I was at a Caribbean Canadian Literary Expo in Toronto listening to fellow Caribbean writer (Guyanese Literary Prize winner and Cropper Foundation alum) Ruel Johnson talk about the lack of nurseries for the literary arts in the Caribbean. That’s when I got the idea to introduce the Wadadli Youth Pen Prize to Antigua. I wanted to provide something I’d never had to young Antiguan writers. Though I’ve felt burned out enough by the work involved to put it on hiatus in the past, I still dream of making that programme all I envisioned it to be then.

Not so long ago, I won a fellowship to the Breadloaf Writers Conference where I sat beside the likes of Oprah Book Club pick Ursula Hegi, my workshop leader and author of the superb Floating in My Mother’s Palm; had the opportunity to read and take workshops and learn and teach and just be in a literary space in the beautiful Vermont woods; and had people like Lynn Freed and Robert Boswell complement me on my reading – the reading I was so nervous about I fled the room as soon as it was done. It was amazing. It’s the kind of thing being a writer of and in the Caribbean I rarely get to do, but it’s awakened in me a yearning to seek out these programmes and the creative space they may offer to writers like me. And it’s re-awakened in me a desire to help create such spaces at home. And so Wadadli Pen is reborn and I do what I can to support other workshops and initiatives like the literary festival – even though it’s something else that takes me away from my own writing and, also, doesn’t pay the bills.

I’m trying to learn as I grow – another challenge, to avoid repeating mistakes of the past, to find the balance needed to write while being a literary activist and working my own literary career. It’s a work in progress. I decided to seek representation, and part of what I hoped to accomplish at Breadloaf was find an agent. 

Challenging? Hm, it’s about as easy as finding a publisher – i.e. it’s not a writer’s market. I did get to meet a couple of agents at Breadloaf but could feel myself failing to hold the interest of all but one of the three with whom I managed to get face time. Still, I’d become convinced that to get your foot in the door you needed an advocate, someone who knows the lay of the land enough to advise you and nudge some doors open. And so now I have one, not from Breadloaf but through another contact I made prior to that at the Antigua and Barbuda International Literary Festival and on the strength of the manuscript submitted; my writing always spoke better for me than I could. And, on the heels of her recent call announcing a contract offer for my next book, I’m – knock on wood – hopeful of an even better publishing experience next time around.

And now I find myself trying to make space again in my life for writing. I’m once again part of a fledgling writers group. Incidentally, one of our small group is actually a regular youth writing workshop leader and was with me and others like Unburnable author Marie Elena John part of a team of Antiguan writers who sought and won Commonwealth funding to attend Calabash in Jamaica, a highly stimulating experience. I hope to be similarly stimulated through my interactions with this small group and outside of it, to continue to strive for authenticity (and avoid self-censorship; another of those challenges for writers writing from a small place – just ask Kincaid).

How will this story end? I don’t know. And that’s the scary exciting part of it. The part I’m not looking forward to is the sell, sell, sell of publishing – that part where you have to stand up in a crowded marketplace and shout, hey look at me, in a book selling world seemingly intent on keeping the wider audience you seek just out of reach (i.e. limiting you with labels that don’t begin to capture all you could be to a reader on the prowl for new material). We are not just a homogeneous bloc, Caribbean writers; we write sci-fi and romance and romantic histories and comedies and dramas and thrillers…readers in these genres might also find us interesting, if they knew we existed.

That’s a challenge – how many is that now? – all the things you can’t really control; where you’re placed on a shelf, how you’re perceived in the reader’s mind, often even what the cover of your book looks like. For all of the dancing you have to do, the one thing you can really bend to your will – sometimes – is the writing; stepping into the deep end of publishing and trying to feel your way around that’s a crab hunt.

So much to learn, and so many pages still to be written; but then that’s any writer’s yoke I suppose, and the Caribbean writer only a little more so for being off the map.

Antiguan Joanne C. Hillhouse is the author of two books of fiction: The Boy from Willow Bend and Dancing Nude in the Moonlight. Oh Gad! – to be released by S&S in 2012 – is her third book of fiction and first full length novel. A 2008 Breadloaf fellow and announced recipient of the 2011 David Hough Literary Prize from the Caribbean Writer, her fiction and poetry have, also, appeared in Tongues of the Ocean, Small Axe, Mythium, Ma Comère, The Caribbean Writer, Calabash, Sea Breeze, and more. She was awarded a 2004 UNESCO Honour Award for her contribution to literacy and the literary arts in Antigua and Barbuda. Among her projects are the Wadadli Youth Pen Prize –She’s a freelance writer, journalist, editorial consultant, and producer. For more, visit http://www.jhohadli.com

Classy Publicity: Author Amy Fellner Dominy on School Visits

I love having children's writers visit Blurb is a Verb because they so often describe publicity experiences about which I know nothing at all. Amy Fellner Dominy was gracious enough to drop by to relate her new found knowledge of: school visits! Amy's novel for 'tweens OyMG (isn't the title awesome?) debuted six months ago.
--Sarah P.

My first novel, OyMG, debuted this past May. Like all authors, I wanted to get my book in the hands of as many readers as possible. But for me, that meant reaching kids. OyMG is a novel for tweens and teens. That means my audience is not hanging out at bookstores—they’re sitting in middle school classrooms. The obvious way to reach them: School visits.

School visits are a great way to share your book and build a fan base with your readers. (And unlike a bookstore signing, school visits guarantee you an audience!) Unfortunately, I knew nothing about them. What would I talk about? How could I keep them engaged? Beyond those basic questions I wondered what kind of presentation I should create? And how did I arrange visits with the schools?
Six months later, I’ve survived my first author visits. I’m certainly no expert, but I did learn a few things that might help if you decide school visits are right for you.

Connect with local school librarians or English teachers. Offer to come in for a career day if that’s part of their curriculum. Or work with them to create a unique program that interests them. For me, I was willing to cater to local schools for the practice and experience. Once you hit up your local schools, you can ask for referrals and recommendations, which helps in widening your circle.

Tie your presentation to the curriculum. Teachers/librarians appreciate it if you can teach something to the kids that ties into their lesson plans. Is there a writing exercise you can do? An element of story that you can teach? A life lesson of perseverance that you can focus on? Recently, I was asked to come in and talk about the revision process to eighth graders. The teacher wanted me to convince kids that rewriting is something everyone does—even published authors.

Choose a Topic Where you feel like an “Expert”
When I was brainstorming ideas for a presentation, I tried to focus on my strengths. My background is in playwriting—which is pure dialogue. It also happens to be my favorite part of writing and I have a lot of “talky” scenes in my book. I worked up a presentation on dialogue and feel very comfortable with it.

Make your Presentation Visual
I do a Powerpoint and it works great. (It’s so much better than having the kids stare at me the whole time!) Not all authors have powerpoints, but all of the ones I’ve seen have something visual that the kids can focus on. If you have a book trailer, play it. Kids love that!

Share the Stage
If you can, get the kids involved. The simplest way is to ask questions and create a discussion. Each time I shifted to a new topic, I started with a question. You can involve kids in other ways, as well. For my dialogue presentations, I created Reader’s Theater scripts of a scene in my book and had kids come up on stage and act it out.

Make it Personal
This surprised me, but the kids really responded to slides with a glimpse of my real life. For example, when I talked about playwriting, I didn’t show a script—I put up a slide of me in high school, acting in the school play. (Maybe seeing how ridiculous I looked made me seem more relatable.)

If you’re not sure, ask.
What equipment do they have? What do you need to bring? If your presentation was done on a Mac will it transfer to their system? Can I show a slide of dog poop? (yes.) Can I say the word crap? (yes.) Can I reward kids who ask questions with candy? (no.) I’m very glad I asked the teachers before I came in. Different schools have different “rules” so be sure to ask if you have questions.

Observe other authors
Before my book released, I made it a point to sit in as many author visits as I could at the nearby schools. (Just call the school librarians and inquire if they’ve got author visits set up. Ask if you can observe and they’ll most likely say yes.) I found it very helpful to see what worked with the kids and what didn’t.

Be Flexible
When you’re speaking to kids, anything might happen. They can get off on tangents, and ask a million questions about a detail you mentioned off the cuff. Also, in a school setting you never know when announcements might come over the loudspeaker, etc. So be flexible. If you run into disciplinary problems, ask the teachers to step in. So far, the worst I’ve had to deal with is chatty kids.

Visit the master of school visits. Author Alexis O’Neill runs an online site with everything you might want to know about school visits. http://schoolvisitexperts.com/. It’s an amazing resource for any author interested
in school visits. Be sure to check it out.

Good luck!

You can find Amy at http://amydominy.com/ or follow her @amydominy.

Kickin' It Old School: Author Carole Estby Dagg Reminds Authors that the Web Isn't the Only Way

By Carole Estby Dagg

For the debut of my first book, The Year We Were Famous, I was advised to set up a website, tweet, Skype, blog, prepare a PowerPoint talk, make a trailer, print bookmarks and postcards, and get active on Facebook. Trouble was, I still didn’t have a cell phone and my attempts to figure out Skype, Facebook, PowerPoint, and all the other reportedly essential elements of today’s book marketing were pathetic.

I hired out the website, trailer, and bookmark design, but decided that rather than spend any more time learning the high-tech promoting tools most new authors were using, I’d draw on what I already knew—puppet  show costuming and props, from my days as a children’s librarian back in the 1960’s.

Costume

I began by costuming myself like one of my old puppets. Clara Estby, the narrator in The Year We Were Famous, was a young woman of 1896, so I found patterns for a Gibson Girl blouse and spent a weekend sewing. I found an appropriate skirt at a thrift shop and bought reproduction high-topped shoes.

Props

Clara and her mother had walked 4,000 miles from Spokane to New York City carrying only what would fit in small satchels, so I started with a satchel I found in a catalog of Victoriana. A year before launch, I began the search to fill the satchel with replicas of everything newspaper articles mentioned in their interviews of Clara and her Mother as they crossed the country.  I combed antique stores and specialty catalogs, bid on items on eBay, and begged loans from relatives.

What I found or made for my satchel:

Authentically styled under-drawers with no seam up the middle, which made it easier to answer the calls of nature. It took a week of evenings to put in flat-felled seamed gussets and rows of pin-tucked ruffles, but this item has been the hit of every program. I did not model them.

High lace-up shoes – I did walk a mile in them just to say I did it, but would not choose to wear them every day.

Curling iron, battered canteen, linen handkerchiefs with crocheted edging, and match safe (antique stores)

Rubberized poncho which converted to ground cloth or tent (on-line Civil War re-enactment store)

First-aid kit with iodine, a roll of adhesive bandage, cotton balls, and a tin of salve (antique stores)

Paper cut-out of a pocket pistol and a rubber bulb stand-in for the insect sprayer Helga converted to pepper spray to deter attackers

Composition book and pencils

Toiletries: hand-made soap, wooden-handled toothbrush, a small canning jar of baking soda and salt they would have used for tooth powder, and a hand towel I wove of linen and cotton.

Backdrop

My backdrop was a 36” X 48” tri-fold foam board, big enough for a map of Clara and Helga Estby’s trek across the country, period postcards, copies of newspaper articles, and a photograph of my real-life characters. I covered the panel with black Velcro sold by the yard on the internet, sandwiched newspaper articles between layers of transparent shelf-liner (available at drugstores) and applied self-stick Velcro dots (available at fabric stores) to the backs of each item.

Once I had a costume, props, and backdrop, I was ready to take the show on the road! In the next few months I visited four bookstores, a book festival, two libraries, three middle schools, three book clubs, a trade show, and a museum. Ten bookings have already been scheduled next year with women’s groups and book clubs, a library, and another historical society.

The Advantages of Low-Tech: 

Realia broadens the appeal of programs. My show and tell has gone on the road to a wide range of audiences from 5^th-graders to adults interested in women’s history.

 Objects provide a crutch for an off-the-scale introvert. Just as I hid behind the puppet stage for library performances, I hide myself in my costume and use my collected props as memory aids when shyness-panic threatens to short-circuit my brain during a presentation.

I have more than a reading to offer bookstores, schools, community groups, book clubs, and historical societies. I’m not just plugging my book, I’m offering a program on the role of women in the 1890’s.

My props are relatively light-weight, inexpensive, and disaster resistant. Venues don’t have to have screen or computer projector and I don’t have to worry about bulbs burning out or cord compatibility.

Realia increases audience involvement. Attendees can come up after a program to examine the items they are particularly interested in and ask more questions.

Touchable objects and newspaper articles reinforce the point that The Year We Were Famous is based on a true story.

This approach won’t work for every book, but in the panicked rush to new technology, don’t overlook the power of old-fashioned show and tell.

You can visit Carole at www.CaroleEstbyDagg.com, see her trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32EWPJt8i_A. Her book is: The Year We Were Famous 

Would you walk over four thousand miles to save your family's home?
(Clarion Books, an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, April 4, 2011)

Readings are Passe? Authors Weigh In

Nobody reads at readings anymore? That's what this Wall Street Journal article tells me. From the article:

"We were just losing our audiences," said Ms. Jennings, the owner of Rainy Day Books, an independent bookstore in Kansas City, Kan. Finally, several years ago she made a decision: The shop would sponsor only author events that featured a conversation or a minilecture, a PowerPoint presentation or perhaps a slide show, all followed by a question-and-answer session and—at most—the recitation of a paragraph or two from the book to illustrate a point. "I tell publicists 'it's no longer a reading,'" Ms. Jennings said. "If they want their authors to come here, they'll go along with it."

The article insists that people are really there for the Q&A, a point with which I’m sympathetic. But what do other authors think? On author Meg Waite Clayton's blog, she gives an 8 step recipe for author readings. The reading itself is confined to Step Number 6: The Smallest Dash of Actual Reading. “The truth is, most people past the age of five prefer to read themselves rather than be read to. And writers don’t often make great readers; that’s why others are paid to read our audio books.”

I recently heard bestselling author Chris Bohjalian read from his new novel Night Strangers, and it was great fun. The length of his reading was 14 minutes, which I only know because he announced it as such before he began to read. I asked him about the brevity of the reading portion, and he said that he didn’t feel that the tradition has become lost. Only shortened. "First of all, book tours are much longer now than even ten years ago and readers often get the book in the first 48 hours it is on sale. That means by week two, a lot of people at my readings have already finished the book. So, it makes no sense to read for 40 minutes. Second, readings have become, in my opinion, more entertaining and less pretentious. I think that can only benefit literature.”

                                                   

The uptight parts of me are piqued to hear booksellers (booksellers!) lean away from the actual texts. But on the other hand, I too would rather an author spent his or her time on material that I can’t get between a book’s two covers. Recently bookseller Jen Northington made some suggestions right here on Blurb is a Verb about how best to make your bookstore event sing. I think I’m going to go re-read that now…

Author Donna Miscolta Makes Her Book Trailer Dance

By Donna Miscolta

“Look, Mom. I wrote a book!”

Approval from Mom. That’s all we want, isn’t it? Well, maybe when we were three and Mom equaled the world. But now, isn’t it the world’s attention we’re really after? Okay, maybe not the world. But some very modest portion of it. A sliver.

Because writers spend a good amount of time writing, rewriting and worrying over it, because we endure rejection and self-doubt, we imagine that in recompense our book will at long last arrive, if not to pageantry and spectacle, then at least to some applause, a salute, a thumbs up.

Which did happen back in June to me and Wendy Call at our joint book launch party where we felt feted, buoyed by well-wishers. But once the guests had left, the musicians had packed up their instruments, and we had folded up and hauled away the rented chairs, well, the party was over. The manager of the gallery wasted no time in pushing a broom across the floor to remove the remnants—candy wrappers, napkins, toothpicks, paper plates, and fallen petals from congratulatory bouquets. Soon the room was clean. Empty, except for the question insinuated by the pile of post-party debris: Now what?

Wendy, indefatigable and determined, was setting off on a cross-country tour backed by a publicist and her own remarkable networking skills.

With no publicist, no funds, and a small press book with limited distribution, I was staying home. I did manage to schedule some events locally in Seattle and also in San Diego where I was born and whose environs provided the backdrop for my novel. Scheduling those events was an education for me.

Here’s what I didn’t know.

I didn’t know about co-op dollars, money from a publisher that a bookstore relies upon to offset the cost of reading events. Small publishers like mine don’t have co-op dollars at their disposal.

I didn’t know about the terms of purchase most bookstores require from the publisher: a 40 percent discount, free shipping, and the option to return unsold books. Small publishers like mine can’t meet those terms.

In short, I didn’t know that, with a few exceptions, my book would not have a presence in bookstores.

It was a woeful outlook. Once I’d concluded my modest run of events, there would be no more opportunities for face-to-face contact with potential readers to let them know about a book that was generally not available in bookstores.

So I looked to the Internet. YouTube to be exact. I’d been mulling the idea of a book trailer, and more than one friend had encouraged me to make one.

The downside, of course, is that book trailers are rapidly becoming as ubiquitous as books. And as with books, trailers by the recognized and established, not to mention the celebrity, will naturally draw attention over the trailer by the unknown writer.

How effective are book trailers anyway? Do they convince the viewer to buy your book? If you’re already famous, do you really need a book trailer? If you’re unknown, will anyone care that you have one?

The answers are not very; probably not; no, but it doesn’t hurt; and maybe your mother.

Still, a book trailer offered the possibility no matter how slight of getting my book into the minds and possibly the hands of people beyond those who had some connection to me through friendship or family.

The question was how to distill the novel or the essence of it to a two-minute video. I knew the video would have to feature dance. It was my metaphor for the synchrony that happens between people when hopes or yearnings in common unite them even for a moment.

I searched for and listed all the scenes in my book that had to do with dance and considered stringing them all together with a narrative that I would write. But that seemed unwieldy, a bit contrived, and, as I studied that first scene on my list, altogether unnecessary.

The first scene in the book that mentioned dance was all I needed. I could take the words directly off the page and do a voice-over as the screen showed two couples dancing bolero. I could intersperse the dance and the voice-over with blurb excerpts on the screen that matched the music and mood of the piece. The choreography would consist not only in the literal steps of the dancers, but in the overall integration of music, narration, titles and text.

I sent a proposal to Ann Hedreen whom I know through our association with Hedgebrook, that paradise of a writing retreat for women on Whidbey Island where six writers at a time are invited and housed in her own handcrafted cottage in the woods. Ann and her husband Rus Thompson make up White Noise Productions, an Emmy-award winning film company. Among their works is Her Beautiful Brain, a video about Ann’s memoir, now in the hands of an agent.

Ann sent back a price quote and we were in business. I would be responsible for securing a site for the shoot which turned out to be my neighborhood community center; selecting the music, for which Rus sent me a link to SoundDogs.com; and hiring dancers.

Hiring dancers—how hard could that be, I thought. Seattle was full of dancers. Except, as it turned, out bolero dancers. I learned that bolero is only danced in competition, not socially, so fewer people dance it than, say, tango or salsa or cha cha.

Why not change the dance for the trailer, someone asked me. Because bolero was the right dance for the scene in the book and thus the right dance for the trailer.

Surely, there were dancers of bolero somewhere in Seattle. I did at one point resort to accosting people on the street, in restaurants and on the bus whenever I came across someone who I thought surely must dance bolero.

Finally, I remembered Rose Cano, actor, writer, director, and co-founder of Ese Teatro. I’ve known Rose for decades, but our paths only occasionally cross. I sent a message to her via Facebook and she solved my problems with two words: Vanessa Villalobos.

I immediately contacted Vanessa who teaches dance through her company Balorico. She was interested and available, so we set up a meeting. We agreed that she would be responsible for hiring the other three dancers needed for the video. We shopped together at Value Village to buy the wardrobe for the shoot. I trusted Vanessa on the clothes for the men. And though we selected some pieces for the women to wear, I wasn’t completely convinced we had the right outfits.

Though neither of my daughters lives at home anymore, many of their belongings still occupy the rooms upstairs. The night before the shoot, I rummaged around and scored two dresses, and though I had repeatedly admonished my younger daughter for her habit of borrowing my clothes without asking, I justified my own temporary appropriation of her dress as minor pay-back.

The day of the shoot, Vanessa, ever the professional, had her dancers ready a half hour ahead of time. Aside: Why are dancers always gorgeous? They all looked so graceful and sexy. And young. I wanted to applaud or bow or toss roses at their feet.

Ann and Rus arrived and set up their equipment. Earlier Rus had asked me what sort of effect I had in mind. Sort of muted, I said, even though I wasn’t sure that was the word I wanted to use. Maybe I meant subtle or restrained, understated or subdued. But none of those words came to me.

None were needed. Despite my inability to clearly articulate my vision, Rus nodded and said he had the same thing in mind. I trusted Rus’s instincts. It was a thrill to watch him work. “He’s an expert with the steady-cam,” Ann informed me.

It was an efficient operation, with the dancers fluently taking direction from Rus, and Rus open to suggestions from the dancers. We had the scripted scene as guidance, but there was plenty of room for creativity in capturing it in the dancers’ movements and from long and short camera angles. I had rented the room for two hours, and set-up, shoot and take-down all happened easily before time expired.

I’m ecstatic with the result. It’s gorgeous. Exactly what I wanted.

Will it sell books? Maybe. Maybe not. If it creates a demand for bolero lessons with Vanessa and sends clients to White Noise Productions, then I’m happy for that. And none of it would’ve happened without the support of my friend, writer Anne Germanacos, whose generosity allowed the project to proceed, and my sister Rose Miscolta who also contributed. It was this pulling together of the talents and the backing of people in my community that made this video possible.

Look, Mom! We made a book trailer!

Your Book Trailer as Calling Card: Author David Taylor's Success Story

Author David Taylor has discovered another use for the oft debated book trailer: conference calling card. Taylor’s book Soul of a People: The WPA Writer’s Project Uncovers Depression America was an award winning Smithsonian documentary film as well as a book. With help from the film’s director, Andrea Kalin, he cut a book trailer using some of the film’s imagery. Once the first round of book publicity was done, he discovered that a book-trailer-as-calling-card just might win you a few invitations that would otherwise have been tricky to secure.

—Sarah P.

By David Taylor

I felt way out of my league as I met the keynote speaker and former president of the Organization of American Historians, approaching the daïs for the opening of a conference of around 300 university deans and presidents and professors on “The Arts and Humanities: Toward a Flourishing Democracy?” I would be speaking just before her keynote address.

That’s how I discovered that a book trailer, useful long after the book’s launch, can help you fit into groups you might otherwise think are beyond you. A trailer can help make your case to organizers of conferences and get you on their program.

I had done other events with my book: book festivals, library talks, even a talk at the Library of Congress, before groups of job searchers – the book is about unemployed people finding themselves as writers, after all. But those were all events for a new book.

This conference of the Association of American Colleges & Universities (AACU) came two years after my pub date and didn’t have a built-in link to my book. But after delving into their website, I became convinced that their ideals and meeting themes fit so well that it was worth a shot. My book would speak to the conferees at the meta level: creative expression, the breaking down of divisions between history and literature, the importance of the arts in a democracy. I sent off an email with a link to the trailer and crossed my fingers.

Fortunately AACU organizer Karen Kalla got the connection immediately. She asked the keynote speaker, Dr. Nell Irvin Painter, author of the phenomenally creative The History of White People, if we could show the trailer at the opening event. That would also set up a session the next day.

So when the date came, I found myself onstage with Dr. Painter (feeling unstylish in my suit next to hers). Soul of a People was helping to frame the conference discussion, just as I’d hoped. Occupy Providence was right across the street, reminding us of the immediate importance of expression as a survival skill. Surrounded by college deans and presidents, I felt outclassed, but they applauded warmly.

It reminded me: Don’t be afraid of groups deeper than you (smarter, more intellectual, whatever). Your book may bring into crystalline focus issues and concerns that they share, in ways they haven’t yet found to discuss.

You can find author David Taylor on his blog Soul of a People.